Shadow War campaign In-Game: Chapter 69- Manor of Death

[chrysalis]

"Donovan, you do realize that if he destroys the amulet, the future will not be the same. We will have never met. I will be nothing more than a lonely farm hand never to meet her prince. I love you, and I'm sorry to sacrifice so much to save our world. How can I not though? How can we not?"

"Lets go home."

I extend my hand out to Donovan, hoping he follows me as I walk through the portal.

[Navarre]

Donovan places both arms around your shoulders and holds you tightly. He leans over you, placing his chin on your shoulder. You feel the warmth of his cheek against yours as his lips brush your skin.

"You are everything to me. I am only sorry if I never get a chance to show you that, but I know you feel it the same as I do."

"I haven't forgotten about your proposal in White Grove. If we live through the next five minutes, I promise not to let another day pass where you might slip away from me."

"I love you, Liv."

The portal opens wide to a cascade of energy. You fix your mind on your home in Union Point. You can see your parents' living room, where you grew up, in your mind as clearly as if you were there.

You can only hope you will be as Donovan and you walk through the portal together. His arms remain firmly around your shoulders, never letting you go, as the two of you vanish from Moonshadow Manor.

Bedlor, you can only hope the past remains better than you left it and that there is a present to which you can return. You and your friends run through the portal.

Trapped in the past, you have found yourself leaping from universe to universe, hopefully putting things right that once went wrong, and hoping this time that this leap will be the leap home.

[Gaumer]

"Oi, boy!"

[Navarre]

{First floor grid and initiatives for the next round (including the now vacant players)}


There remains no doubt that Moonshadow Manor is on fire now. Thick smoke rolls in beneath the windows as you hear the sound of men outside.

"In the name of Aurora and Celestryn! For Good and Peace! Bring down that door!" comes a command from outside.

The door shudders visibly as something hard impacts it from the other side. The bar holds, as does the strong mahogany door.

From outside you hear other cries.

"Shining filth! The Shadow Lord will feed on your souls this night!" comes a snarling voice, followed by the sounds of blade on blade and the screams of rending flesh.

From across the foyer, the witch Helsbeth looks to you, Tren.

"Be remembering, boy," she warns. "Pact all made and my promise kept. The first of many."

"Stop that Druid!" she cackles, pointing toward Anbar as he stands just inside the parlor with the Totem of Sashca in one hand and the knife that can break it in the other.

{Tren, you have initiative.}

[Strifeter]

"Lyric. If he destroy that totem everything changes. You may never exist. I may never exist. Absolutely everything changes. The choices I have made in my life I stand by and no one has the right to change that. Anbar seems to think he will be a hero by changing it. He is lost. You must understand I cannot allow him to destroy that totem."

[Navarre]

Lyric makes a small weeping sound behind a face made of shadow. She nods.

"I want to go home, Tren. I don't want to be hurt any more."

"I lost my mommy and daddy and now Anbar is going to take away Bronwyn's. Everyone is being mean to the children."

"I'll help you do whatever you need to do."

[Strifeter]

"Lyric we must take the totem from him."

{I quick draw a scroll and cast hold person.}

"Quick Lyric while he can't move. Take the totem and throw it to me."

[Navarre]

You quickly draw a scroll from your pack. Though it came from the archives of Mordelus Arkane you know it is not one of his.

More the pity, as his level of power would have ensured success. Still, there is no minor magic in Hell and you hope this does what you require.

{Anbar, Will save vs Hold Person, DC 25}

[sab39]

Will (1d20+14=18)

[Navarre]

Anbar, you grit your teeth and use every ounce of your will to fight the paralyzing charm. But that measure is found wanting as your limbs betray you.

You stiffen to immobility where you stand as Lyric flies quickly to you. Only your mad dash into the parlor prevents her from being able to cover the distance to you and disarm you as well.

Lyric moves SW, SW, SW, SW (30ft) to E25


{Tren, your move action is still open. Do you want to move?}

[Strifeter]

Tren moves up.

Tren moves SW, SW, SW, SW (30ft) to E26

[Navarre]

Helsbeth stares with an expression midway between greed and fright but perhaps wisely decides to save herself. She warps through the floor and disappears.

{Grid for next round}


{Tren, you have initiative.}

[Strifeter]

Tren takes the totem from Anbar.

"I am sorry but the risk does not warrant your death. I pray the others left the door open for you to leave."

"Lyric. I know you want to go home. If you are able please take Anbar with you. I do not know how long my spell will last."

Tren prepares to teleport and focuses on the shard.

[Navarre]

Tren, you hold Inoke's knife and the Totem of Sashca. Lyric tilts her incorporeal head.

"I can't carry him. He's too big."

A voice comes just at your left ear.

"I can save your friends, dearie," whispers Helsbeth.

"I've checked the house. Everything is going just swimmingly. You've kept your word to me like a good boy."

"We can go now. Where are we going?"

Anbar, you feel the heavy wooden walls envelope you as you see Tren Moonstride working alongside the witch from Hell. They disappear from sight and, as the walls open to reveal light to you again, you find yourself upstairs.

You stand, still immobilized, in front of a set of double doors. One presents an aperture that must be a portal open by Liv. It should lead you home.

The other half of the doorway opens into a bedroom. Here you see Bronwyn and Canus, next to another pretty blonde girl with a cat at her feet.

They are in a bedroom with two individuals sleeping next to each other in a large bed. Bronwyn is talking to the other girl.

"Mommy! Daddy! Wake up!" yells Bronwyn.

Tren, you can hear this as well, even over the din of the battle outside. The front doors give now, bursting open as a small force of Knights, some barely on their feet, rush in over the bodies of Moonshadow's defenders.

They stare at you and the Shadow Lord's servant, now rushing toward you from across the foyer yelling epithets of justice as they raise their swords against you. You look for any sign of the Legends but see only the Knights as the fire now melts the windows and catches the drapes ablaze.

Upstairs, Bronwyn looks at her friend in panic.

"Why won't Mommy and Daddy wake up, Serena??" she trembles in true fear.

"That would be my doing, child," comes a voice from the ether.

All eyes turn to the deepest shadows of the room, where figures now appear. The man speaking is no one you have ever seen.

Clad in a long robe of jet black trimmed in brilliant white contrasts with billowing sleeves and a high white cowl, the robe itself seems to extend in impossible tendrils of shadow, drawing its wearer and his companions into the room from the beyond. The man has long black hair, a hard narrow face that seems fraught with both determination and something you would almost take to be anguish. His eyes are large and glowing, the first thing you see from the darkness.

Standing with him are two other men. One is an Elf. He wears Yollana-Thar, the sacred armor you know to be worn by Sir Peter Carrigan the Protector of Elves. In his hand is the bow now carried by Tren.

The bow crackles with energy as a lightning bolt shimmers on the drawn string. The Elf turns his chestnut-locked head toward the children, warning them back by action without word.

On the other side of the man in the robe is a tall man, at least by most standards. Standing six and a half feet tall, his armor is pure silver that shines of its own accord even in the dark shadows of the bed chamber and the darker shadows surrounding him.

His helm bears a phoenix with sweeping wings of fire that rise on either side of a white plume. On his left arm is a shield, silver with a white symbol; a cross with an upward-curving crosspiece.

In his right hand is Valor. The legacy weapon whines with magic, casting a divine aura about the man that defies the shadows of the dimensional portal that has carried him.

Bronwyn looks squarely at the man with a sense of recognition.

"Grandpa?" she says fearfully.

{Tren, your actions are open.

Anbar, I need a new Will save, DC 25 to break the Hold Person.}

[sab39]

Will (1d20+9=25) {I accidentally rolled that with the wrong modifier, it should be +14, so the correct value is 30; passes either way, though}