Warning: Graphic Violence
Part of our group is starting a Pathfinder campaign in an original setting of the DM's (Suleman's) creation. Here I shall record the events of the campaign from the perspective of my character, Elliott Durand.
The air crackled and took on a static charge. A light breeze began to blow through the darkened chamber, though nothing stirred, too heavy to be moved by a simple brush of wind. Sparks danced along the metallic surfaces of the room, coalescing towards a focal point in the middle of the room. A moment later, reality itself seemed to tear apart as a roaring rift opened near the ceiling. From its flashing lights a dark, humanoid shape tumbled, crashing into the floor.
“Owww…” the shape said, though the howling wind of the rift drowned the word out. After being unceremoniously dumped on the floor, the figure was left in total darkness as the rift vanished as suddenly as it appeared.
Shuffling about, the figure rose to its feet. Its clothes rustled as its arms moved about, trying in vain to cast a spell.
“Blast,” a deep and cultured voice said quietly. “Old-fashioned way it is.” More rustling, followed by a few impacts, and a torch flared to life, revealing a man with dark blonde hair and clear blue looking about. The clothing he wore was practical and dark, relatively devoid of ostentation. A shortbow and quiver hung on his back, and a rapier rested on his belt. His eyes alighted on the shining glint of thousands of coins piled around the floor, as well as hundreds of sealed drawers in the walls and shelves dividing the room into three aisles.
“Must be a vault of some kind…” he murmured to himself. He picked a coin up and examined it, his brow furrowing as he failed to recognize the markings upon it. Shrugging, he dropped the coin in one of his pouches and grabbed a handful more.
“Now then, how to get out, and figure out where I am,” he looked about, trying to see if there was a way to exit from the inside. A double-door stood at one end of the room, and he took a few steps towards it. It appeared to be made of thick iron, with an elaborate locking mechanism running through the split between the doors.
Kneeling down, the man withdrew an elaborate set of tools and began to poke and prod through the lock. After several minutes of tinkering, the locks began to clink open, followed by louder clanking as heavy tumblers and chains disengaged. The doors swung open smoothly, and the man grinned.
“Well, wherever I am, good to know some things are still the same,” he thought to himself. He confidently took a step out from the vault, only to stop as some kind of klaxon began to blare. Within seconds, the sounds of rushing feet began to echo down the hallway outside the vault. The hallway ran several meters to either side of the vault, with stairs leading up at both ends. Footsteps were echoing down from both.
Reflexively, the man ducked back into the vault, throwing his torch down to the far end, and disappearing into the shadows of a recess in the vault behind the door. After settling for a few seconds, he became nearly invisible.
A few moments later, three guards stalked into the room, their weapons at the ready. One was a human, like the man, another a tall elf, and a third appeared to be some kind of humanoid reptilian. The man’s eyebrow twitched as he tried to identify the reptile, wondering if it was a clue as to his location. It hissed and grunted something in a language he didn’t recognize, and the three guards each began to look down one of the aisles. He felt an itch within his skull as he tried to discern the meaning of the creature’s words. He would need to hear more. For now, communication would be impossible.
As the three reached the back of the vault, he silently drew his bow and notched an arrow, completely unheard by the guards. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he concentrated, glad his latent talent of always seeing where his shots could go still functioned. The arrow was loosed, and punched through the human guard’s kidney. The guard collapsed with a cry of pain and a loud clatter, drawing the other two guards to him.
Satisfied that would cause an adequate distraction, the man looked towards the door to see another guard step in as a response to the commotion. Trusting to his stealth skills, he attempted to silently edge through the doorway while the guard’s back was turned. He cursed silently as his foot kicked a stray coin, causing the guard to turn. Without a pause, he punched the guard across the jaw, sending him sprawling, and turned to run back into the hallway.
Outside three more guards waited, but his stride didn’t change. He barrelled into the one on the left, slamming him against the wall, and causing the other two to leap back in surprise. His way clear, he sprinted up the curved stairs, finding himself in another hallway that ran straight as far as he could see. Another row of guards was charging towards him from the fore.
He skidded to a halt and in one fluid motion drew a second arrow and loosed it down the hallway. It punched clean through the first guard’s head and he crashed forward, tripping the guard behind him. The latter two jumped over the sprawled bodies and charged the man with spears. He drew the rapier at his belt and prepared to strike the first one up close, leaning to dodge the clumsily aimed spear as it came at him. To his surprise, however, the guard kept running and crashed into him, sending the two tumbling back down the stairs in a clatter of armor and curses. His skull itched again as he heard more words spoken, and, although he was sure he could guess with some accuracy as to what was being said, the exact meaning still eluded him.
Slamming into the floor, he rolled free of the guard’s limbs and stabbed his rapier into the guard’s gut, using it as leverage to leap to his feet. Fighting off waves of disorientation, and an itching skull as he heard continual angry shouting from most of the guards, he lunged for the last guard coming down the stairs, though his rapier merely skidded off a frantically waved shield. Before he could recover, the guard behind him landed a blow to the back of his head, and his world went dark.
Part of our group is starting a Pathfinder campaign in an original setting of the DM's (Suleman's) creation. Here I shall record the events of the campaign from the perspective of my character, Elliott Durand.
The air crackled and took on a static charge. A light breeze began to blow through the darkened chamber, though nothing stirred, too heavy to be moved by a simple brush of wind. Sparks danced along the metallic surfaces of the room, coalescing towards a focal point in the middle of the room. A moment later, reality itself seemed to tear apart as a roaring rift opened near the ceiling. From its flashing lights a dark, humanoid shape tumbled, crashing into the floor.
“Owww…” the shape said, though the howling wind of the rift drowned the word out. After being unceremoniously dumped on the floor, the figure was left in total darkness as the rift vanished as suddenly as it appeared.
Shuffling about, the figure rose to its feet. Its clothes rustled as its arms moved about, trying in vain to cast a spell.
“Blast,” a deep and cultured voice said quietly. “Old-fashioned way it is.” More rustling, followed by a few impacts, and a torch flared to life, revealing a man with dark blonde hair and clear blue looking about. The clothing he wore was practical and dark, relatively devoid of ostentation. A shortbow and quiver hung on his back, and a rapier rested on his belt. His eyes alighted on the shining glint of thousands of coins piled around the floor, as well as hundreds of sealed drawers in the walls and shelves dividing the room into three aisles.
“Must be a vault of some kind…” he murmured to himself. He picked a coin up and examined it, his brow furrowing as he failed to recognize the markings upon it. Shrugging, he dropped the coin in one of his pouches and grabbed a handful more.
“Now then, how to get out, and figure out where I am,” he looked about, trying to see if there was a way to exit from the inside. A double-door stood at one end of the room, and he took a few steps towards it. It appeared to be made of thick iron, with an elaborate locking mechanism running through the split between the doors.
Kneeling down, the man withdrew an elaborate set of tools and began to poke and prod through the lock. After several minutes of tinkering, the locks began to clink open, followed by louder clanking as heavy tumblers and chains disengaged. The doors swung open smoothly, and the man grinned.
“Well, wherever I am, good to know some things are still the same,” he thought to himself. He confidently took a step out from the vault, only to stop as some kind of klaxon began to blare. Within seconds, the sounds of rushing feet began to echo down the hallway outside the vault. The hallway ran several meters to either side of the vault, with stairs leading up at both ends. Footsteps were echoing down from both.
Reflexively, the man ducked back into the vault, throwing his torch down to the far end, and disappearing into the shadows of a recess in the vault behind the door. After settling for a few seconds, he became nearly invisible.
A few moments later, three guards stalked into the room, their weapons at the ready. One was a human, like the man, another a tall elf, and a third appeared to be some kind of humanoid reptilian. The man’s eyebrow twitched as he tried to identify the reptile, wondering if it was a clue as to his location. It hissed and grunted something in a language he didn’t recognize, and the three guards each began to look down one of the aisles. He felt an itch within his skull as he tried to discern the meaning of the creature’s words. He would need to hear more. For now, communication would be impossible.
As the three reached the back of the vault, he silently drew his bow and notched an arrow, completely unheard by the guards. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he concentrated, glad his latent talent of always seeing where his shots could go still functioned. The arrow was loosed, and punched through the human guard’s kidney. The guard collapsed with a cry of pain and a loud clatter, drawing the other two guards to him.
Satisfied that would cause an adequate distraction, the man looked towards the door to see another guard step in as a response to the commotion. Trusting to his stealth skills, he attempted to silently edge through the doorway while the guard’s back was turned. He cursed silently as his foot kicked a stray coin, causing the guard to turn. Without a pause, he punched the guard across the jaw, sending him sprawling, and turned to run back into the hallway.
Outside three more guards waited, but his stride didn’t change. He barrelled into the one on the left, slamming him against the wall, and causing the other two to leap back in surprise. His way clear, he sprinted up the curved stairs, finding himself in another hallway that ran straight as far as he could see. Another row of guards was charging towards him from the fore.
He skidded to a halt and in one fluid motion drew a second arrow and loosed it down the hallway. It punched clean through the first guard’s head and he crashed forward, tripping the guard behind him. The latter two jumped over the sprawled bodies and charged the man with spears. He drew the rapier at his belt and prepared to strike the first one up close, leaning to dodge the clumsily aimed spear as it came at him. To his surprise, however, the guard kept running and crashed into him, sending the two tumbling back down the stairs in a clatter of armor and curses. His skull itched again as he heard more words spoken, and, although he was sure he could guess with some accuracy as to what was being said, the exact meaning still eluded him.
Slamming into the floor, he rolled free of the guard’s limbs and stabbed his rapier into the guard’s gut, using it as leverage to leap to his feet. Fighting off waves of disorientation, and an itching skull as he heard continual angry shouting from most of the guards, he lunged for the last guard coming down the stairs, though his rapier merely skidded off a frantically waved shield. Before he could recover, the guard behind him landed a blow to the back of his head, and his world went dark.
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