For a breakdown of what's transpired, check out the Ballad of the Pigeon God Page. The "Apocalypse" starts with Episode #64.
The Mid-Afternoon of the 2nd of DecDec 1072
The Chateau d'Echleon, Outside the Village of Eding
Laying on the ground before her was the body of King William. His coronation did nothing to serve his wanderlust... or improve his administrative powers, but the group had helped him obtain The Blood-Brand from White Plume Mountain. Despite overwhelming odds, he had rallied many to maintain a thin line between the monster hordes and the rest of humanity. But now he was dead.
They were all dead from the party, save the viking Rurik from the fjords of Wyrmnal. He was impetuous, but he might have been the only fellow party member who was inherently good.
The duo stood with the last members of the estate owned by the "Pigeon Baron" Echelon. He was a deranged man with mysticism from the far off eastern lands with a disturbing interest in pigeons. And his whole party had been simply horrible at the adventuring lifestyle. William's party had earned the most coin cleaning up half-finished adventures from Echelon and company. Heck, they had managed to acquire the two ancient weapons, Wave and Overwhelm, and left an open path for William to obtain The Blood-Brand and become Emperor of the World, as per the prophecy.
His friend, Kane was also of eastern origin, and somehow manipulated water, but after nearly a full day of fighting the armies of evil, he had tapped all his abilities, using his staff more to hold himself up than for defense.
A dwarf, not the quirky one with the accent, but a stoic dwarf named Thorrin stood alongside these two, wielding Overwhelm, a flying boomerang battle axe. It had belong to the other dwarf, Norm, but he was lying motionless on the battlefield.
Lingering near the entrance to the barn besides them was a red-headed bard with a bow named Ariel, and a wolf, Pathfinder, whose wolf looked dark-red with the caked blood and gore. Both were past exhaustion, both hoping for a miraculous change, or a swift and honorable death.
That was everyone who was left... and in a few moments they'd all be dead and this cabal of mages would move on to decimate the innocents in the nearby village of Eding. From there, who knew....
As the mages began the somatic components of the spells to destroy these remaining interlopers, a divine strike from the ruins of the estate arced right into the center of the mages.
"Mohammad's alive!" Fiame could hear Echelon say in great relief. She didn't know who this Mohammad was, but any miracles were gladly accepted.
As the mages and the surrounding Iron Guardsmen recovered from the blast, a tall and lanky elf rode in on a war horse, he dove off the horse right into the dozen spellcasters, only mace in hand.
Fiame and heroes stood flat-footed, simply amazed at the relief coming from all directions. The remaining hobgoblins behind the mages encountered Ashe and his lost Winnebago tribe of elves.
Rolf Wolfsblood, a vicious tattooed barbarian, and his other heathens from Galmar met the Iron Guardsmen's right flank. And on the left, a kobold with blood soaked vestments of Akana, Dag di Velandro led his remaining kobold acolytes harassed as best they could.
The heroes moved forward, but the Iron Guardsmen seemed to take inhuman amounts of punishment, and with the help of one of the surviving mages, they pushed out into the encircling attackers.
Once again, everyone was pushed to the brink. The Guardsmen merely toyed with the hero, even once disarming Rurik of his longsword. The viking fumbled around the ground for another weapon and pulled out the sword under the body of Norm Dingleberry.
It was The Blood-Brand. And unlike all other interactions, the sword glowed bright blue in Rurik's hands.
The mere sight of the blue glowing runes on the black made made the three surviving members of the cabal to instantly flee, one by flight, one by teleport, another by gate.
More aid came over the eastern hill, near the old vineyard. Dozens of halflings on war ponies, led by Mayor A. Warren Corkbarrel, charged down the hill and into the fray!
The halfling cavalry from the nearby villages and Rurik wielding the Blood-Brand with an effect completely opposite of how it was in William's was just enough to save the day.
With the death of the Iron Guardsmen, and the ultimate rout of the hobgoblins and other lingering creatures, the monster races seemed to almost vanish instantly. Pockets of resistance could be found, but most could be seen fleeing the area at full speed.
The heroes all reunited at the barn to rejoice at the apparent (and largely unexplained) collapse of the forces of evil. Echelon, Thorrin, and Kane searched for their friends among the casualties, and to the relief of all, Norm, Felix, and Brutus were all still alive, but just barely. Markuus, the large elf, had died a heroic, if foolhardy death.
Thorrin returned Overwhelm to Norm once they took him inside the barn for medical attention.
Fiame and Rurik were still dumbstruck by what had transpired. The Blood-Brand was still glowing a light blue. The pair simply collapsed from where they were standing, each putting their head on the other's shoulder.
For the others, Rolf, Ashe, Binklen, and Dag, it was a time to catch up on lost time, and tell some tales as their followers secured a perimeter.
But it wasn't a big enough perimeter. The eastern hill had assumed secured with the halfling cavalry, but Rolf spotted a large mass coming over the hill.
Lots of cavalry, unknown markings, and worst of all, they appeared fresh to fight.
The day was not over yet....
RIP: Markuus Brighthelm
Next: #72 Ascension
The Mid-Afternoon of the 2nd of DecDec 1072
The Chateau d'Echleon, Outside the Village of Eding
Fiame Runyon had been a simple farm girl from the village of Agtir in Crosedes. She was ardent follower of Akana, becoming a cleric in her nineteenth year. With her faith, skill, and years of networking, even the most conservative clergy knew she might one day become the first female Bishop of the Duchy of Draloite, but first she fell in with Prince William.
She disliked being relegated to a "healing check" in a party full of warriors, but she performed her role, and most of those inconsiderate bastards were dead. She was still here.
But now, her best friends and the last line of defense for the realm was face to face against the Cabal of Anon-Maxis, the twelve most ruthless, most powerful mages on the continent. Defended by one hundred of their Iron Guardsmen, they had just disintegrated what appeared to be an avatar of the rumored God of Goodness and Light, and now only needed to push the remaining heroes mere feet to fall down a steep cliff and out of the battle.
They were all dead from the party, save the viking Rurik from the fjords of Wyrmnal. He was impetuous, but he might have been the only fellow party member who was inherently good.
The duo stood with the last members of the estate owned by the "Pigeon Baron" Echelon. He was a deranged man with mysticism from the far off eastern lands with a disturbing interest in pigeons. And his whole party had been simply horrible at the adventuring lifestyle. William's party had earned the most coin cleaning up half-finished adventures from Echelon and company. Heck, they had managed to acquire the two ancient weapons, Wave and Overwhelm, and left an open path for William to obtain The Blood-Brand and become Emperor of the World, as per the prophecy.
His friend, Kane was also of eastern origin, and somehow manipulated water, but after nearly a full day of fighting the armies of evil, he had tapped all his abilities, using his staff more to hold himself up than for defense.
A dwarf, not the quirky one with the accent, but a stoic dwarf named Thorrin stood alongside these two, wielding Overwhelm, a flying boomerang battle axe. It had belong to the other dwarf, Norm, but he was lying motionless on the battlefield.
Lingering near the entrance to the barn besides them was a red-headed bard with a bow named Ariel, and a wolf, Pathfinder, whose wolf looked dark-red with the caked blood and gore. Both were past exhaustion, both hoping for a miraculous change, or a swift and honorable death.
That was everyone who was left... and in a few moments they'd all be dead and this cabal of mages would move on to decimate the innocents in the nearby village of Eding. From there, who knew....
As the mages began the somatic components of the spells to destroy these remaining interlopers, a divine strike from the ruins of the estate arced right into the center of the mages.
"Mohammad's alive!" Fiame could hear Echelon say in great relief. She didn't know who this Mohammad was, but any miracles were gladly accepted.
As the mages and the surrounding Iron Guardsmen recovered from the blast, a tall and lanky elf rode in on a war horse, he dove off the horse right into the dozen spellcasters, only mace in hand.
Fiame and heroes stood flat-footed, simply amazed at the relief coming from all directions. The remaining hobgoblins behind the mages encountered Ashe and his lost Winnebago tribe of elves.
Rolf Wolfsblood, a vicious tattooed barbarian, and his other heathens from Galmar met the Iron Guardsmen's right flank. And on the left, a kobold with blood soaked vestments of Akana, Dag di Velandro led his remaining kobold acolytes harassed as best they could.
The heroes moved forward, but the Iron Guardsmen seemed to take inhuman amounts of punishment, and with the help of one of the surviving mages, they pushed out into the encircling attackers.
Once again, everyone was pushed to the brink. The Guardsmen merely toyed with the hero, even once disarming Rurik of his longsword. The viking fumbled around the ground for another weapon and pulled out the sword under the body of Norm Dingleberry.
It was The Blood-Brand. And unlike all other interactions, the sword glowed bright blue in Rurik's hands.
The mere sight of the blue glowing runes on the black made made the three surviving members of the cabal to instantly flee, one by flight, one by teleport, another by gate.
More aid came over the eastern hill, near the old vineyard. Dozens of halflings on war ponies, led by Mayor A. Warren Corkbarrel, charged down the hill and into the fray!
The halfling cavalry from the nearby villages and Rurik wielding the Blood-Brand with an effect completely opposite of how it was in William's was just enough to save the day.
With the death of the Iron Guardsmen, and the ultimate rout of the hobgoblins and other lingering creatures, the monster races seemed to almost vanish instantly. Pockets of resistance could be found, but most could be seen fleeing the area at full speed.
The heroes all reunited at the barn to rejoice at the apparent (and largely unexplained) collapse of the forces of evil. Echelon, Thorrin, and Kane searched for their friends among the casualties, and to the relief of all, Norm, Felix, and Brutus were all still alive, but just barely. Markuus, the large elf, had died a heroic, if foolhardy death.
Thorrin returned Overwhelm to Norm once they took him inside the barn for medical attention.
Fiame and Rurik were still dumbstruck by what had transpired. The Blood-Brand was still glowing a light blue. The pair simply collapsed from where they were standing, each putting their head on the other's shoulder.
For the others, Rolf, Ashe, Binklen, and Dag, it was a time to catch up on lost time, and tell some tales as their followers secured a perimeter.
But it wasn't a big enough perimeter. The eastern hill had assumed secured with the halfling cavalry, but Rolf spotted a large mass coming over the hill.
Lots of cavalry, unknown markings, and worst of all, they appeared fresh to fight.
RIP: Markuus Brighthelm
Next: #72 Ascension
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