River Bend, the city of Perthius,
as described by Perthius himself...
Whether you come north,
from Canistan, east from the XYZ Mountains, south, from Viscum
Forest, or west, from the rolling hills of Kirshan County
proper, the scene is the same. Looming up from the horizon is
the fortified city. Long before the shape of the walls can be
identified the tower of the city’s creator greets you with a
watchful gleam. It is within that tower where the savior, as
well as the bane, of the kingdom manages the vast enterprise
known as “Kirshan County”.
Though none could argue that his intellect has brought order
and prosperity to the region it has come with tremendous
collateral damage. Forests decimated, rivers rerouted and
dammed, landscape and topography altered beyond recognition have
all made enemies of the city’s benefactor. On the other hand
such adjustments were deemed necessary to feed countless
refugees and all aspects of the war-machine. Modifications were
required so those displaced could work the land, find purpose in
rebuilding a way of life, and of course, finance the insatiable
appetite for power characteristic of all leaders
Such is the world into which your caravan approaches. By day
smoke from immense furnaces mixes with the moist fog rolling off
the river. By night the city scape is illuminated by countless
orbs that neither put off smoke nor dim with the passing hours.
All manner of humanoid-creature scurry about either buying or
selling products ranging from the mundane to the exotic. Yet in
all the hustle of the common folk you are certain that there are
eyes upon you.
You have entered a world where anything is truly possible.
Everything about your surroundings evidences adventure, grave
danger, wealth, and death. You can either sample the wears of
this thriving metropolis and then move on, or pull up a seat at
any one of the many gathering places. Whatever choice you make
your life is forever changed just by your presence.
Welcome to the city of vengeance. Welcome to the city of
endless opportunity. Welcome to the city of wondrous change.
Welcome to the city of fanatic dedication to protection and
assassination in equal measure. Welcome to the city of River
Greyhawk is less a bucolic medieval analog and more a
barren depopulated post-apocalyptic wasteland.
Fletcher stood over the body of the Iomedaen crusader, his
greatsword dripping. The coppery smell of battle, alongside
sweat, smoke and the pervading smell of the Mung, filled the air
of the small room. Next to him, a large dog, with a hint of
white foam at it's muzzle, growled low and disappeared.
Bardos looked on from the doorway. his strange eyes lighting
on the crumpled body of the tiefling on the floor. "She fought
Illendar nodded. "And not without skill, far in excess of the
prowess we have encountered among the Mung."
Fflasheart harrumphed. "Is there a door? Ladder? A knotted rope?
Anything leading upward? After days down here, I am anxious to
see for myself what remains of Kenebras."
"None that I can see," Fletcher said, looking about.
"Our guests will take that poorly," Fflasheart said, his eyes
flicking to the side where Mercy made obsequious noises at Gwerm
as the older man continued alternating whine with sneer in his
demands to reach the surface more swiftly. Anevia looked on in
mixed sympathy and disdain, her healed ankle bearing up well
under the strain. .
Farina the injured huntress sat up, her face gray and eyes
rheumy. Her blood still darkened the stone nearby but Otto
emitted a loud rumble that, in a smaller cat, would be
considered a purr and wormed his way into Farina's lap. Lothar,
avoiding the panther as it rubbed it's head against Farina's
hand, continued to make adjustments to her bandages. "You'll
live, but you've lost a bit of blood and you need rest," Lothar
said. "Stay close to me, if you can, so I can help."
Farina nodded slowly and began to get to her feet.
Fflashheart broke the small silence that followed. "Well, so
long as the way upward is not that way... [he pointed to the
Mung meat locker, which even now fully closed still shed a
mélange of odors that at best could be described as
"decomposition" and at worst "nauseatingly charnal"] ... we
should resume our search! Perhaps that cleric is in possession
of something that could assist us."
"Cleric?" asked Bardos.
"Aye," Fflashheart said. "She's something to someone's church.
That spell that laid out our archeress, that was divine magic,
shaped like a glaive - that's Baphomet's weapon. And a glaive in
her hand as well, like the hard-eyed oil-spiller behind us." His
eyes widened at the memory. "Ach, I'm a fool! I'd thought about
the dubious intelligence of lighting defensive oil fires down
here - the smoke would choke us, and I'd assumed error on their
part. But if the smoke has a chimney to follow..." He snapped
his fingers. "Confound these Baphometers! If our half-elven
friend says there are no secret stairways to the surface back
there, I'd wager a night at the pub that the way out leads past
that fired barricade."
"And they're well alerted to us," Lothar added thoughtfully.
"Who knows what surprises they may have...?"
"I'll be ready to go in a moment," Farina said, slowly wiping
commingled sweat and blood from her forehead. Otto made a low
yowling sound in response to her voice. "A few moments, only,
and I'll be ready to move out..."
We're back online, only took 3.5 years.
BDC: "I'm a Paladin,
not a trigonometrist!"
"If a burning dragon fell in the woods..."
[everyone] "... does
anyone hear it?"
"I'd follow you to the end of the earth!"
"The edge of the pit will
"Hold my mead..."
BDC: Myth Drannor is
saved from the demons and fully cleared, so it's back to the Island! | LNGN:
The fight against the Mung goes well as can be expected, thanks to
kill-count leader Fletcher |
NEXT: LNGN Sunday at 9 cst