The Pursuit of Tal Lorvas


Guys hey, hey, hey, guys listen, hey, listen, guys

More RP :(

Tal Lorvas' Crypt

And so we kept going while we stayed close to each other. A silhouette of sone kind started to stalk us down the hallway. Stealthy as I was I fired an arrow against the creepy thing, but the arrow went right through it hitting nothing but air, darkness and the floor far behind us. Whispers from the walls began crawling into our ears and we felt a white face behind the wall staring at us, but whenever we turned our heads to stare back at it, it was gone. The thick darkness lay around us in thick layers then…. we were blinded in a completely black…. thing. It didn’t take long before I realised that I had lost track of the others – where were they? Completely trapped in eternal darkness – deafened as well I tried to call the others, but I couldn’t even hear the words coming out of my mouth.

To panic is always an option, but never the solution. Totally freaked out I ran around in this new universe of nothing but black concealing darkness. I ran. I ran a lot, but it wasn’t any good. It wasn’t. PANIC! Totally mind freaked – no sense of reality – no sense of anything other than panic and fear. I was there. I don’t want to think about it. Not at all – and yet I’m still writing about it.

Somehow I returned to the universe I was borned in – in Tal Lorvas’ Crypt, yes, but it was THIS world at least – our world. Tim was gone and a weird halfling called Marach stared fully satisfied at me – looking kind of hungry I think. After this experience I must myself: Why am I writing this down? I don’t want to remember it, but I’m doing it any way.

The confrontation between me and Tal Lorvas

I’m writing this down in hope for some kind of salvation/peace. We finally figured out how to open the strange door to the lair of Tal Lorvas. It really gave me the chills when I walked down a giant stair for ages completly covered in darkness and the feeling of something empty inside my heart. It was great having my friends and companions with me. Siralos took care of me down there – our big metal guy who I find a bit weird. One time he helped a guy selling traveler’s dust because of the shelf that’s hidden deep in his chest. So we walked down the stairs trying to follow Sir Marshall and the soldiers he brought with him. After something that felt like a lifetime we finally reached the end of the almost endless stair.

We now had three ways to go and three options – Sir Marshall was gone. I hate it when there’re too many options. Options equals responsibility and I don’t want responsibility – it might cost the life of my sister who I believe is trapped down here somewhere. So we continued our task after deciding to go left. Then – really freaky things started happening around us. After researching the black, strange glass-stone-walls around us, which we believe were made by magic we started walking. All of a sudden a completly pale and insubstantial corpse of somekind came out of the walls white as a sheet. There are no words for the fear that ran through my body as it yet came closer to us…. living. I felt a cold wind as it passed us with horrific eyes screaming in madness. Shortly after it disappeared into the wall behind us and silent whispers started occuring from the walls. For some reason I’m sure the “guy” was with Sir Marshall earlier this…. whaveter it is – hour? Day? Year?

Tal Lorvas you better be down here and you better show up quickly so I can get out of here right away. SHOW YOURSELF…..! – Please….

Whoa nelly

Shit we haven’t used this for ages. HOT DAMN

RP, woo

RP at my house saturday the 6th at 11am.

Bring a lvl 8 AND 9 character sheet just in case you level up.

Siralos' notes

On the subject of halflings and addiction.

Today was most eventful. I’ve logged this because of the behavior of one my companions. The subjects name is Tim, though I know that that’s not all he is, but I’ll get on to that later. We were watching a man called Mr. Rosenfield, conducting researches about his daily goings, when I got the unique opportunity to watch something quite out of the ordinary. Tim had gone to knock on Mr. Rosenfields castle door (after robbing him, countless times – he is very handy. I should credit him for this at the closest opportunity.) As said he chose to knock on the castle door. The waiter appeared. He closed the door due to Tim’s size. This happened 3-4 times or so. Tim then chooses to let his bodily fluids flow out upon Mr. Rosenfield’s door. (Maybe this has something with marking territories to do? I shall have to study this closer on a later account.) Mr Rosenfield’s guard appears but Mr. Tim does not move or suspend the steady flow of urine. The guard is drenched. Mr Tim runs and bolts are shot at him. He avoids them. This is where his addiction is playing in. Would a sane humanoid do anything of this sort? I do not know yet and will conduct more research on the subject later.

- New moons month 56. day of the 1476. year.

Class guides

Do check these out I don’t know why I haven’t posted them before, but seriously, I use them a lot and it certainly can be quite helpful especially for players not quite into the game.

Rules ;)

So I found this ruleset:

  • these rules are written on paper, not set in stone tablets
  • rules are suggested guidelines, not required edicts
  • if the rules don’t say you can’t do something, you can
  • there are no official answers, only official opinions
  • when dice conflict with the story, the story always win
  • min/maxing and munchkinism aren’t problems with the game; they’re problems with the player
  • the game master has full discretionary powers over the game
  • the game master always work with, not against, the players
  • a game that is not fun is no longer a game – it’s a chore
  • this book contains the answers to all thingsp.
  • when the above doesn’t apply, make it up

Sounds about right ^^

And so, it begins!

Part 1: Tentacle face guy

With the aid of Sir Marshall, our intrepid adventurers Evaron, Khitaro, Nit the Changer, Siralos and Storm battled their way through Tal Lorvas’ improvised headquarters. They fought life-leeching wights, sword- and firewielding skeletons, ice cold zombies and a hulking zombie monstrosity (who packed one hell of a punch, nearly flattening Nit). And so, they ended up finally facing the man himself; a tall, bald and slightly silly necromancer with tentacles taped to his face, to make himself resemble an illithid. Or an octopus, who knows.

After a somewhat fierce battle, he was defeated. He fled through a portal, Sir Marshall hot on his heels. The portal closed before our adventurers could follow. With Tal Lorvas gone, the undead army literally crumbled around the party’s feet.

Before anyone could catch their breath, Nit had grabbed the spoils left by Mr. Lorvas. She was persuaded to hand them over, and gems and gold coins alike were handed out. Besides the shinies, they found a mysterious ring, the color of ashes, and a set of papers. The ring holds some sort of divine power, but is apparently dormant at the moment. Siralos currently has it tucked safely away somewhere on his metallic and wooden body. The papers were just as mysterious. Filled with the ramblings of a madman, written in something disconcertingly alike human blood, it revealed little. But they did get one thing from the papers: the word “Allswell” kept appearing. Hints of another hideout in the city of Allswell was enough to send them on their way.

But not before resting at the local inn, of course. At the Small Pig’s Tail (for that was the inn’s name), they were greeted by a pleasant young man. He invited Siralos to play a hand of cards with him, and he grudgingly accepted the challenge. With his own inhuman guile and the some “help” from Storm, they almost managed to get their hands on alot of money. But before they could finish, a strange woman sat down at the table, promptly won the entire pot, and took off. This left them slightly perplexed and a little poorer, so they decided to turn in. Evaron, apparently the only relatively normal person of the lot, bought a room. Storm camped just outside the city, too greedy to pay the very reasonable price for a room a the inn. He would regret this choice of location. Siralos, on the other hand, simply asked the innkeeper if he could borrow a closet. After promising to not leave any stains, he was shown to one, stepped in and powered down. Khitaro simply drank himself into a stupor, falling into a drunken sleep on a bench. Nit was nowhere to be found.

As I suggested earlier, Storm would regret not resting at the inn. As it were, he was subject to a rude awakening. An awakening involving a a tip of a sword resting on his throat, and a band of mexican (that’s right, mexican) desperados. They grabbed his clothes, armor and precious sword (which, unbeknownst to the them, was cursed) and took off. Needless to say, Storm was furious. He rushed to the inn, waked his companions (the ones he could find, anyway. Nit was still gone) and explained the situation to them. They rushed after the desperados, Khitaro thrown over Storm’s shoulder. The desperados’ tracks were easy to find and, luckily enough, on the road going to Allswell.

After half a days ride, they came upon a gruesome sight. More than a dousin mexican men, presumably the desperados from earlier, lay in the middle of the road, dead to a man. Closer inspection revealed that they had not killed each other. It looked as if they had been taken by surprise, cut down before they could use their superior numbers to their advantage. Some of them had clearly been trying to flee when they were killed. Amid the carnage, Storm found all his belongings. Except for his sword. Tracks led away from the field of mayhem, but not, as they might have hoped, toward Allswell. The tracks, those of a single human, lead towards the small town of Ashenport. As the adventurers approached the town, they were assailed by a terrible storm. Black, ominous clouds rushed in from the sea, quickly turning day into night. The whipping rain felt like needles on their skin and the cold, howling wind numbed them to their bones. But ahead lay hope. Hope and shelter. A few, orange lights appeared in the darkness, just a few hundred meters away. They pressed on through the storm, wading through what appeared to be a veritable river of mud. As they entered the town, the wind eased a little, but the downpour was still breathtaking.

More to come soon.


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