Elgorn - the campaign has started

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(The campaign starts from Julius wiev)

You plummet out of the portal about 5 mettres above the ground, and land on some sort of altar.
It looks like some sort of cathedral.
Around you green-robed soldiers move into defensive positions, as someone tries to breach the large bronze gates.
Suddenly a beatyful nymph-like woman stands before you.
" Hurry to the gates! We don't have much time!"
Around you several strange beast's appear
(the other PC's).
You all feel compelled to do her bidding, like you were under the effects of a spell.
Suddenly the gates collapse and a horde of strange beast pour in, all chanting a horrible battle-cry.
They are human-like, but they their faces are almost piggish and they are taller and more muscular.
They are all brandishing clubs and axes and all have war-paint and tattoos of skulls on their foreheads.
Some of the robed humans begin to chant.
The first line of defense is cut down easily, but then the robed humans end their chanting and cast large missiles of green fire in their attackers lines.
Slow but sure the horde is pushed back.
But then someone begin to fire arrows at the humans. Then suddenly an explosion of black fire devastate the human line of defensive.
The survivors flee in terror to the altar.
" Ranks hold!" someone commands.
A man clad in chainmail and wearing a horrifying skull-like helmet march in, joined by 4 heavily armoured warriors.
They look like humans, but are slimmer and more lightly build.
" We meet again conjurer!" the man says.
" Who are you?!" the nymph-like woman asks.
The man takes his helmet off, revealing his identity...a pale elf.
" Lord Gairon!" the woman gasps in horror.
" Yes it is me! And this time you do not have your friends to save you.
But enough talk! Now it's your time to DIE!"

 

Azirath encloses himself in a protective spell shield, it glimmers bright silvery blue and blinds the oncoming horde. With one swift motion of his jeweled shadowy staff he decapitates the leader of the horde, and in an upward swing from his low position pushes back the rest in one long flowing fall, and out of nowhere a ring of blades is conjured, cutting a bloody swath through the horde, and disappearing just as abruptly as it had appeared, Azirath manages a slim smile, his face marred with blood...

Hearing the curse of the elf Azirath encloses the beautiful woman in a ki sphere, the quickest protective spell he could musture, suddenly a throng of warrior running his way screaming brutally and pitching daggers his way, all are plainly deflected back at the warrior who threw it disembowling half the warriors, and in a burst of exuberent energy he plows through the warriors, leaving a spray of gore in its wake, but as more rush his way he has no time to check on the woman... but just enough time to fire off a few blasts of raw energy at the elf warrior.

[This message has been edited by Azirath (edited September 23, 2001).]

 

(Hey! Remember that you can only DECLARE your actions, not write what happens.
)


The elf warrior waves his hand and easily deflects the energy beams towards the ceiling.
"Foolish child! You DARE to challenge an Arkaran MAGE?! Kill the others, I will take care of the mageling!"
The warriors charge towards the rest of the group, as the elf sends a dark beam of energy at Azirath wich strikes him directly in the chest.
The githzerai flies many metres back, until the wall stops him.
Then the elf mage begins chanting another spell...

 

(Sorry, but i would like to note I am a powerful character, and though this elf guy may be stronger, I think I can at the very least put up a good fight)

Azirath gets up reeling and shoot off a volley of magic missiles followed by a prolonged prismatic spray, he shields himself in a barrier of ki of ever-shifting colors, an almost impenetrable barrier...

 

Divine Shadow did you get my e-mail?

 

*Zey sees the soldiers trying to fight back the horde, being torn apart while they try. He barely notices the battle between the mages. At the sight of so much Soldier blood, he invokes the Blood Fury that gives him the name Divine Death. He rushes into the horde of attackers, slashing with claws, biting with teeth and slicing with a razor edged tail. Not caring who he takes down, other than soldiers, he merely kills for the sake of killing. Ignoring whatever wounds get through his dragon-like scales (there's a race of Dragon-Like creatures in his ancestry), he tears through the attackers, his eyes completely blood red.*

 

Not wanting to be noticed just yet, Julius surveys the battlescene and whips out two special made self loading crossbows of accuracy.

"that guy looks kinda mean..."

With one in each hand, Julius unleashes the entire round of bolts on each crossbow (six per, total of twelve shots) on an evil elven Arkaran Mage currently giving Azirath some grief.

"I'll try and disrupt his casting at least!"

When the crossbows discharge all rounds, Julius puts them back into their holsters and prepares his next move.

"You can stick a fork in this one... he's done."

 

Shadows spun in his vision as the grey cloaked figure sought to gain his bearings. The battle raging around him seemed to have nothing to do with him, and the nymph sought to control him.

Bristling inside, he scanned the crowd for an opponent to vent his anger upon. The pale elf would have been ideal, but was already engaged. "Ahhh, he has 4 guards. They should do fine .... lets see how many we can kill before we get inturrupted ....."


Sacrafix ran through the melee towards the bodyguard of the pale elf. Pausing 10 feet away from the closest one, he raised his two sickles in a fast salute, and dove to the attack.

His mist cloak billowed, concealing the exact motions of his weapons as he closed seeking to kill the figure quickly.

[This message has been edited by Mathetais (edited September 24, 2001).]

 

Azirath amazed at the sheer power displayed by his companions continues to cast protective spells on the nymph-like woman and his companions, while at the same time fortifying his own barriers with his mind... He begins to reel, the barriers are to hard to hold at the same time, he drops his own for the sake of the party, the protective magicks of his cloak and robe, and the crsuhing power of his enchanted staff should be more than enough to brush off the hordes of warriors, and the attacks of the soon to be dead elf mage...

[This message has been edited by Azirath (edited September 24, 2001).]

 

The elven warriors charge Zey and Sacrafix with military precision, delivering several nasty wounds.
Meanwhile the orc warriors try to surround the group, but are stopped by the remaining conjurers storm of magic missiles.
The woman desperatly tries to cast spells, but apparently she has already used too much of her magic power.
Julius bolt's cause the mage to loose control of his spell, and he angrily shouts an order to one of the elven knights, who immediatly leap out of combat and into melee with the bard.
Then the mage draws a rune-covered sword and looks at Azirath.
" Let's see how much your staff is worth against my blade!" he taunts.

 

Azirath smiles thinly, a truly wicked smirk. The mage gasps, his seemingly rock hard exterior penetrated, Azirath begins weaving his next spell.... The elf mage recognizes it immediately, it is the summon shadow form spell, Azirath planned to summon a shadow to invelop the mage and disrupt his very being, "Bah!" bellowed the elf mage, a hint of fear for the first time in his voice. Azirath finsihed the spell in an intricate gesture tracing gold runes in the air, and muttered the final part of the spell under his breath, a curse following it abrubtly afterwards. The shadowy figure cloaked in wisps of black threads shot up out of nowhere and inveloped the mage in its deep, unrelenting blackness. The mage broke free in a burst of light, but he was visible shaken, and his eyes glazed over, "Well" Azirath thought... "At least it did part of its job..." While the elf mage was recovering Azirath shot off a simple volley of acid arrows, melting several holes into his once gleaming armor. With that opening he shot off a precise magick missile into the largest of the holes, and it was met with a shrill screech, it had hit its target, blood was streaming from it, and he was gasping for breath, but he stood strong, and a blue glow was forming in his hands, Azirath recognized as a cure critical wounds spell, he quickly batted off a fireball interrupting the casting, and sent a conjured blade of mithril spinning the elf's way, it met with armor in a clang and he found it cut right into it, and halfway into his arm, a high pitched yelp was all the elf managed. Azirath smiled and in a last effort to bring down this elf he pushed a prismatic wall his way, and the elf was left a sizzling heap of ashes. Azirath smiled deftly and managed one last gasp before collapsing, all that casting and energy spending exhausted him...

[This message has been edited by Azirath (edited September 25, 2001).]

 

OoC: One thing Azirath, just type out your actions, not the effects of them. That's the DM's job, not yours.

ICL: *Zey could see nothing but his enemies, completely enveloped in the blood fury. He could feel his wounds, but they were distant and insignificant, all that mattered was killing. leaping onto a knights chest he tried digging until his claws and lopping off his arm with his tail*

 

Xal tried generate a field to create a portal, but failed. His psionic abilities are not strong enough yet. He begins to walk through the chaos when he is attacked. Quickly he creates a psionic blade and decapitates the weakminded beast.

 

Sacrafix watch with horror as the four elves gathered in a well practiced formation and met his charge. Their blades slid into his body and a voice inside his head roared with pain and frustration.

Dropping into a crouch, he spun one sickle towards the crease in the greaves of one of the elves while the other sickle sought to disembowl a second.

 

Damn, whoops, sorry again. Just decide the effect and disregard what i wrote....

 

The elven warriors gracefully dodge Zey and Sacrafix' attacks, but they are now in the defensive and seem to have lost their battle-lust. But meanwhile the remaining orcs cut a swath through the conjurers and slow but sure, they are surounding the group...

The look of horror on the elf's face turns into a wicked smile.
" THAT was a mistake. We arkarans are the masters of the land of the dead!
The very essence of shadow runs through our veins!"
As he speaks the shadow turns upon its master. The mage then conjures a shield of solid shadow, and charges with a chilling battle-cry. Momentarily the visage of a woman appears on the shield.
She is extremely beatyful, but her gaze burns like fire. She laughs and then dissapears.
The acid arrows rain down upon the elven lord, but he doesn't seem to even notice. Even though the magic missiles burn large holes in his flesh, he continues his advance.

 

*Zey continued to attack the elven gaurds, all that existed was them. His entire essence was devoted to destroying them, regardless of the cost. Relentless in his attacks he was in a vicious fury of rage*

 

Casting a doubtful look at the surrounding orcs, Sacrafix redoubled his attack on the elven warriors.

Tendils of noxiousvapor leaked from his nose and mouth as his body warmed to the battle. Blowing it towards the orcs, he hoped the mild poison might be enough to hold them at bay, maybe even render a few unconsious and even the fight.

Seeing the elves grow more defensive, he pushed attacking in a furious style resembling a bezerker. However his mind remained rational as he slowly opened up false holes in his defenses, waiting for one of his foes to over-extend his reach. Then he would strike to kill ...

 

Zey's attack pierces the defense of one of the elven warriors who fall lifeless to the ground.
Sacrafix's manuevre succeds and he cuts the hand off one of the elven warriors.
Unfurtunely for the half-dragon he is impaled by the elven warriors sword in the process.
To make matters worse the orcs finally breach the line of defense and charge.

 

Xal sees the charging orcs and lengthens his psionic blade to an appropriate length to take 3 of the large, less intellegent creatures in each swing.