Andragar

Who is he?!
The Wraith

You are walking through your living room, going about your regular daily activities. The T.V suddenly flashes on in the background, alerting you to a public service announcement from the local news station

 

“It was horrible…” said Mrs. Garcia said, talking with us on the scene.

 

Mrs. Garcia was the sole witness to the third crime this week, committed by the one we are now calling The Wraith.

 

“I went to take out my trash, in the little area behind my house. It has an alley that’s connected to the fountain square near the center of our neighborhood. I saw a few figures. 4, Maybe 5 local mafia boys. They usually make sure we pay our dues on time and also collect special ‘Taxes’ from time to time. I didn’t pay much mind but as I was walking back inside I heard a muffled scream and the scraping of metal on stone.’”

 

Mrs. Garcia’s eyes looked down at this point, remembering the traumatic experience.

 

“He was upon them in mere seconds. He came from the sky, like he had been flying or like he’d been on the roof. He landed on one of the men. I heard his bones crunch under the weight of the landing. After that, he fought the rest of them, knocking them all out.”

 

-What follows may be suitable only for a mature audience-

 

“I ducked behind the trash cans of one of the houses and watched. He started tying the men up. I thought it was an arrest… It was a message.”

He tied their hands to the walls of the buildings, all 5 of them. With a nearby bucket he drained their blood and producing a brush, he painted wings like those of an angel onto the walls on which they were strung. It was a grisly scene. After he had finished the last stroke of the brush, he turned to me, slowly, as if he had known I was there the entire time. He placed his finger to his lips.”

 

“Shhhh…….”

 

“He had a blade on his arm, attached with leather. He started walking towards me, and I was paralyzed with fear. I fell to the ground, gazing up at the specter of a man. He reached into his pocket and produced a tan envelope sealed with red wax. He handed it to me and crouched beside me. He leaned close and said,

“Evil is not safe here. Not anymore.”

 

“After that he stood up and walked away without another word. I walked over to the bodies on the wall, and written in blood above each of the five bodies head was a word.

 

EVIL         IS         NOT          SAFE         HERE

 


 

Mrs. Garcia handed the letter from the masked man over to the police, who have just released it’s contents. The following is a copy of the letter.

 

Far away now are the days

When crime runs rampant

Unbridled and crazed

 

The wind you have sewn

Will soon bloom vibrantly

Into a whirlwind of retribution

Emanating from the will of the people

 

Noctum will be cleansed

The corrupt will be cast down

The oppressors will be bound

With shackles made from their own greed

 

The Reaping has Begun

-W-

Upon further investigation, Noctum City Police discovered that all five of the victims were still alive upon arrival at the scene, and are now in critical condition. It is interesting to note that 3 of the five victims were known criminals wanted for murder and the robbery of a local hardware store.


Any information regarding this masked figure should be taken straight to the police, or to our news station: Mongoose Times

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Fun Times in Noctum City
Special Event for Victor

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It was Thursday night in Noctum City.

Victor sat outside Le Cafe Noir, a new cafe a few blocks away from the station, sipping his coffee.

 

It was a Thursday in Noctum City, But it didn't feel like one. It was one of those days that feels like a Friday, because of how laid back it feels.

 

He made a note in his journal. Review for Le Cafe Noir: Coffee is Grade A, Probably from Galeron. The good stuff. Service was good, and the decoration is Aesthetically pleasing to me.

 

He took out his camera, took a shot, then a bite of his Pastry. I ordered the Cannoli. Exquisite. I'm not sure if they knew I was here for a critique or if they’re just that good. Perhaps i’m just easily pleased. Definitely not about the Coffee though. It’s for sure Grade A.

 

The air was alive that night, It was warm and the streets were filled with people.

 

While finishing his review, Victor drank the rest of his coffee, but as he stood up to leave, he heard something that would turn this laid back, Seemingly-Friday Thursday into an Investigatory Seemingly-Saturday Thursday: The best kind of Thursday.

 

“Yeah man, I saw them down on Thirteenth and Broadway, behind the deli”

“There’s no way that five guys could haul that much product in the middle of the night. They’d be seen!”

 

“That’s the genius of it, Mike. They used the sewers”

 

Without a second thought Victor left the tip on the table, and walked toward Broadway. Walking briskly down the sidewalk, with an air of business. Turning down Broadway, Victor walked with the crowd until he got to Thirteenth Street. Looking ahead, a deli’s light shining bright. Victor ducked into a nearby alley and re-stocked his camera film, Just in case.

 

Camera around his neck, he walked out of the alley, looking for a venue. Above would work best, he thought, walking across the street.

 

He burst into the building beside the deli, wearing a face of panic and concern.

 

“Oh god!” he said, clutching his gut. “I really REALLY need to use a restroom. Ah, uh, do you have one around here I could use??”

 

The receptionist gasped, alarmed. “Oh, of course right this way sir!”

 

Leading him to the nearest bathroom, he ran inside, calming himself. Works Every time, he thought.

 

After sneaking out of the bathroom and up the stairs, Victor came to a locked door. Not good. He took out his Thieves Tools, which he liked to more lovingly call Detectives Tools. After a good 5 minutes of picking, Victor was on the roof. There was that nice warm breeze, but even nicer to Victor, the smell of sewer water drifting up into the air. Bingo. Peeking his head over the ledge, figures in the alley behind the deli came into view. One of the figures held up a large bag, and pulled a string attached to the bottom. After a few moments, the bag grew a inflated ring around the bottom. Dropping the bag into the manhole opening, a splash was heard as well as laughing among the men. Bingo.

 

Victor turned the flash off, zoomed in, and started taking pictures, listening for names or locations. After a solid hour, his work was done. Crawling backwards, he cringed. A piece of the roof had broken off and was now sailing toward the pavement.

 

He knew that he had to act quickly, running down the stairs like a madman.

 

“Is everything alright sir?!” asked the receptionist, but her question was met only by the rushing of feet and yelling of men.

He made it outside just as two of the men stepped out of the alley a few yards from the door. Victor smiled disheartenedly, shrugging his shoulders. “Bird watching?.. He.. he.”

 

Running for his life, Victor dodged through alleys and past cars, followed in hot pursuit by the men he had just taken pictures of. Pushing over trashcans and pallets, he sprinted towards the only place he could think to lose them: The Casinos. Climbing a fence at the end of the alley they were racing down, he ran toward the lights in the sky, the music playing, and the laughter of tourists. Turning the corner he saw his target, a street sprawled with people, bright and loud. He started making his way through the crowd, looking for one of the Ritzier joints, because they had dress codes.

 

Walking into the Casino, the guards at the door looked him up and down, nodding in approval at his black vest and pinstriped slacks. It pays to dress nicely. Hanging around the coat check, Victor waited until he heard that the coast was clear.

 

“Ay, buddy! Get back here! We don't allow slobs in here!”

 

“Get ya fuckin hands off me, prick, Do you know who I am?! Get off me man!”

 

A fight broke out, and as the bouncers restrained the thugs, Victor walked out, hat tipped down. Jogging to the police station, he knew it was a successful night. When he arrived, he requested to see the police chief, and with a little bargaining and the permission to accompany the police on their bust of the Sewer System Drug Bust. The evidence given led to the arrest of 4 men, and The StormCrow got the whole story.

 

Another Successful Thursday Night.

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Interesting Event with Ale
You wanted this I guess

You told us to write something that happened to our character in our world since we won't be able to play any time soon. So, here goes.

Because Ale was from Earth, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. However, as Ale was reading The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King for the fifth time, there was a noise outside. The pages of his book were lit only by the small reading lamp to his right. His father and mother were asleep, as it was very late at night, but Ale was still up, unable to tear himself away from the novel. The noise grew louder, and began to sound in rhythms, like a large drum. Ale had never heard this sound before, and considering he was in the forest, this was highly unusual. There had never been any other inhabitants in this forest, at least to his knowledge. Because of the abnormality of the situation, Ale had decided to investigate. He closed the epic-fantasy novel with a resounding thud and placed it upon his carved nightstand. With stealthy footsteps, he sneaked downstairs and moved past his parents' bed. This was a small home, being made entirely of wood, which made stealthy navigation difficult, but, thankfully, his mother was a heavy sleeper, and his father was exhausted from a good day of tracking that buck he had been trying to kill for two days.

Looking at the clock on his wall illuminated by the low fireplace, it was indeed very late in the night, being 3 AM. The witching hour? Ale thought to himself. I stayed up too long reading… Distracted by his own thoughts, he had forgotten why he even went downstairs in the first place. The return of the drumming sound, now growing louder but still a low hum in the distance reminded him of his decision. He returned to the mission at hand, pushing the door forward to travel outside. He felt the cool summer breeze against his skin, reminding him of his favorite season. The lighting was near-pitch black, only illuminated by the full moon in the sky. Ale allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, taking a few moments until he began to see the treeline. His nightvision was up to par, and Ale himself would tell you it was better than his fathers, allowing him to see fairly clearly in the darkness. Nonetheless, he reached back inside to grab the old metal flashlight hanging from the wall. Returning to the outside world, he clicked the rubber button placed near the end of the flashlight, producing a satisfying clicking noise. The batteries inside the flashlight appeared to be still going strong, even after years of usage by the two hunters. The flashlight illuminated through the blue darkness, bringing an enhanced level of vision for Ale, better than his nightvision would treat him.

Before moving another step towards the treeline, Ale trained his ears to tune the source of the drums. They had stopped for a few minutes but began again shortly afterward.

Thud… Thud… Thud… . . . Thud… Thud… Thud… . . . Thud… Thud… Thud…

The sounds came in trios, pausing for three seconds before the next set of three. After three sets of three, the sounds appeared to stop for a full three minutes before beginning the sets again. Three? What's up with that number? Isn't that biblical or something? Ale didn't know much, being raised in the woods, but he was at least familiar with literature, including biblical motifs and themes. He decided to pursue the noises, walking forward, masking the sounds of the drums with his own footsteps in the grass. He trod lightly in order to pay attention to the drums, trying to scope out the direction which the music was coming from.

Ale traveled west of his home, walking three hundred feet through the trees. Before walking further, he noticed a shining object caught by the reflection from his flashlight. Aiming at the object in question, he noticed it was a mask pinned to a tree. The mask was reasonably minimal, only consisting of a white marbled surface and two slits for the eyes. Upon closer inspection, there appeared to a tribal pattern chiseled onto the surface of the mask, along with a protrusion for one's nose.

Though the surface appeared to be made of marble, a highly reflective material, the mask did not reflect all of the light given, instead absorbing part of it, as though it were made with some matte coating. As Ale grasped the mask, the noises grew louder, as if they were moving towards him. He began to feel fearful, which was abnormal for him, causing him to freeze. The drums grew in intensity, sounding as though they were directly behind him. Steeling his courage, Ale threw the direction of his flashlight behind him, illuminating the suspected noise. However, much to Ale's relief, there was nothing behind him but the same trees he had passed by. He sighed through ragged breath, a wave of reassurance coursing through him. The solace was shortly replaced with concern and confusion as he realized the noises had completely stopped. Ale took this moment to further inspect the mask, noting its subtle intricacies and symmetry. It appeared to be hand-chiseled, but to a degree of mechanical perfection. On the inside of the mask lied a felt surface colored in red. For some reason unknown to Ale, he felt compelled to put the mask on his face. It was difficult for him to resist the temptation, but he eventually fought the compelling urge, as he was familiar with the concept of curses and old wives' tales, and he did not wish to be cursed by some magical object.

He trekked back to his house, which was only a few hundred feet away, feeling accomplished with his feat of courage. As he opened to door to his home, the fire had been completely extinguished, prompting Ale to re-stoke the flame using his flashlight to see through the pitch-black darkness. His father and mother were thankfully still asleep. Ale stealthily moved back upstairs, which was illuminated by his reading lamp. He hung the mask on a nail against the wall, removing the photograph which resided previously there, placing it on his nightstand. He reopened his novel, deciding to at least finish the rest before sleeping. As he finished the last few pages, he went to turn off his lamp, but he noticed that the mask was no longer hung against the wall, instead residing on the nightstand in place of the photograph. Ale could have sworn he placed it against the wall. Pinning the disparity on his sleep deprivation, he simply moved the mask aside so he could turn off his lamp.

Ale had kept the mask in his rucksack ever since, never taking it out. He had never felt compelled to wear it again, but it always seemed to call to him, speaking his name three times. He never told his parents about this secret, opting to keep this to himself.

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Alice, an Introduction
Short story

Hey everyone, I have a little teaser short story to post since we won't be able to play for a few weeks, and I want to keep the hype fresh. This is actually my first attempt at writing a story in first-person viewpoint, so leave me some feedback on what I might be able to improve upon for my next attempt. Thanks!

            In front of me sprawls a beautiful landscape; Endless, rolling fields of trees and flowers stretching out as far as my eye can see. In disbelief, I stroll through this dreamscape, stopping to kneel in front of a patch of red and white colored flowers. Picking one from its home, I inhale deeply, experiencing an aroma of fruity scents. I feel a smile creep across my face, as I’ve dreamed this dream many times before, each time walking through the same location. Usually, old friends warmly greet me, collectively agreeing to walk with me across the fields. This time, however, something was wrong. My friends were missing, and the bright, summer sky slowly morphed into a pitch-black darkness.
            Feeling uneasy, I rose from my crouching position, noticing a light breaking through trees in the distance. Approaching this light, I look in horror towards the spectacle before me. Directly ahead are the remains of a burning village, flames roaring into the night sky. Scattered around the blazing buildings lie the bodies of its inhabitants, all of them charred to a crisp, faces twisted in agony. I feel sick, and I panic, but I begin to walk through the fire mechanically, unable to stop myself. One foot after the other, I reach the center of town, gazing towards a woman standing within a ring of fire. She is a tall elf, purple-skinned, with white hair and narrowed green eyes. Her gaze locks with mine, and a malefic smile stretches across her face. “Well, well, well.” she says, slowly. “If it isn’t the guest of honor. You’ve kept me waiting long enough, dear.” My panic turns to pure terror. Without hesitation, I sprint out of the village, running as fast as my legs will take me into the woods nearby.
            A knot forms and twists inside my stomach. Who is this lady and why do I feel like I’m in such danger? This is a dream, right? My breathing becomes ragged and my side pounds uncontrollably, every inch of my body begging me to stop. Suddenly, I feel my foot connect with a stray branch, sending me crashing onto the forest floor. Everything becomes dazed and blurry, making it difficult to concentrate. As my vision comes into focus, I freeze. In front of me, the elf advances forward, sword in hand. I try to get up, but without warning, my legs refuse to move; feeling as if someone placed weights upon them. I crawl backwards, but make little progress as I feel a hand grab my shoulder, forcibly turning me upright. The elf woman positions herself overtop of me, and brings her face close to mine, letting loose a hideous cackle. An exploding pain resonates throughout my abdomen, and I scream as I feel blood spilling out onto my dress. The world around me fades and I slowly lose consciousness, the elf’s jovial expression burning painfully in my mind.
            A dull pain washes over my body, waking me. The events of my dream flood into my thoughts, and I cry quietly, pulling the bed covers over my eyes. From the darkness, I hear a door open, followed by footsteps nearing my bed. Peeking from underneath my nest, relief washes over me as I spy a familiar individual now seated in a chair to my right. I know the features all too well. Though his tall, looming frame appeared intimidating to me at first, I am always put at ease by the deceptively young and angular features of his face, betraying a kind of softness. His coal black hair had grown, stopping just short of his shoulders, and I cannot help but once again be drawn into his strange eyes: ruby red, and slashed through, like a cat. He glances over my figure, stopping to meet my gaze. “Alice,” he said, his tone heavy with concern. “are you alright?” His voice snapped me out of my daydream, and I take stock of my surroundings, confused towards how strange he is acting. The area is large, every wall lined with a bookshelf and strange paintings. Along the back wall rests a large oak desk and a fireplace, crackling warmly and giving off a radiant amount of heat. The realization dawned on me that I was no longer in my bedroom where I had gone to sleep last night, but now resided in my father’s study, my bed haphazardly placed in the center of the room.
            “Dad—” I started, moving out from underneath the covers. I gasp; my stomach burning in pain at the movement, urging me to halt. “What… is going on? Why am I here?” The look on my father’s face briefly flashed into anger as he rose from his seated position. He began to pace the room, turning his back towards me. “Alice. You mean to tell me, that you have absolutely no recollection of the events that transpired last night…?” His voice trailed off into a whisper, which worried me. All I can remember of the night before was wishing my mother goodnight and heading off to bed. There is a long pause before I muster the courage to reply. “No, I don’t. I went straight to bed.” My father turned towards me, his hair morphing into a pale, white color, which is a trait that both my father and I possess when entering a highly emotional state. He walked towards the bed and seated himself once again, gazing deep into my eyes. “I want you to look into a mirror, and tell me what you see,” he said, expressionless. I was puzzled, and a familiar feeling of nervousness swelling inside of me, tightening my throat. I struggled against the pain of my stomach and forced my body out of its horizontal position, using Dad’s shoulder as a crutch. We walked to the nearest restroom, and I propped myself against the sink as I peered towards my reflection, searching for the disparity my father hinted at.
            My appearance, I thought, had always been lackluster. My skin is pale, my body small, and my blonde hair always too long and messy to do anything special with. My one redeeming quality lies in my eyes, large and blue, the pupils slightly vertical, like my father’s. It wasn’t long before I noticed what was different about me. The mirror did not show the girl I am most familiar with, instead reflecting an image of me with white hair and ruby-red eyes. I felt sick, my unease continuing to deepen. “I—I don’t understand,” I said, disbelief coursing through my body. “This has only ever happened when I use magic. Why now? What are you not telling me?” My father seemed to be fixated on something beyond the walls of the small bathroom, and it took a moment for him to reply. “Something very terrible happened to you last night. You were—” Before he could finish speaking, an enormous, thundering pain resonated throughout my body, causing me to cry out in agony. I felt my balance waver, and before I knew it, I was tumbling into the floor, my vision beginning to darken. “Alice?! ALICE!! WESTON, SEBASTIANANYBODY, PLEASE!” I could hear my father screaming out for help, but his voice sounded distant, as if he were far away. A low drumming sound beats in the back of my mind, growing louder as I slip into unconsciousness. I recognize it as the mad cackle of the elf from my dream, terrifying me as I fade into the darkness.  

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What is happening?
Introduction to Andragar

For added effect, please listen to the following song while you read: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tjt2EZA_Yg

 

The dark sky loomed overhead as Sebastian sprinted along the cobblestone streets of Oloran. At this time of night, one would be lucky to find a civilian out and about, but that was no concern to the man in question. Sebastian was used to being up at this time; as the Pendragon's master spy, one could expect poor Sebastian not to sleep much. As of late, and much to Sebastian's relief, crime has been relatively low. Less murders, robberies, business collusion… virtually every category had been quiet…up until about an hour ago, when Alice Pendragon was abducted from the castle.

Buildings flying past, Sebastian was so furious he couldn't even think straight.

How did they find Alice? 

How did they reach the castle?

What happened to all the guards?

Where is the king?!?

Finally, Sebastian reached the magnificent Oloran gate and quickly began following tracks leading into the Vastwood. It wasn't long before he stumbled upon an altar, dripping with freshly spilled blood. This is not good, he thought, taking a sample. Panic quickly washed over Sebastian as the realization struck him like cold iron.

"T-t-this…is.." he looked around frantically, finding a trail of blood leading deeper into the woods. Sebastian suddenly ripped off his shirt, revealing an array of magical symbols and shapes.

"Alfuros, nihilas mevalan tellos!!" First, a flash. Then a cloud of smoke. And then, Sebastian found himself soaring through the blind eternities, flung prone and breathless to his destination. Sebastian's panic turned into pure terror as he surveyed the area before him. In the middle of the room stood a tall, female Drow with spider-like facial features and a malefic grin. Directly beneath the Drow was the figure of Alice Pendragon, occasionally emitting ragged breaths as blood gushed from a wound on her chest, her body centered in an upside down star of david.

"You monster!" Sebastian screamed, drawing out his staff.

The drow turned from Sebastian, walking slowly to the back of the jagged cave."Ahh, if it isn't the King's favorite little pet! I was going to formally invite you to tonight's proceedings, but…"

"QUIET, BITCH! You will pay for this transgression!" Raising his staff, Sebastian gestured the sign of a maximized fireball before being violently knocked to the ground, a vortex opening behind the drow.

"Too late, Sebastian. Pendragon blood is quite powerful, you know. I've been trying to get my hands on it for years." She looked towards Alice, and then, to the portal. Within appeared to be multiple different worlds and realities colliding together, thousands of people going on about their lives unaware of the drow's long gaze.

"I'll be going then. The girl won't last long, so you best act fast." Stepping through the portal, the drow split into six copies and vanished. Crawling to the body of Alice, Sebastian cursed his bad luck. Brushing her white hair aside, he struggled to his feet and lifted her up onto his shoulder.

I have to fix this, he thought, walking slowly into the twilight.

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