(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.
:nono: )


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.

Ducking under the swing of an orcish axe Azirath whips up his staff to bash the orc square in the face. Azirath proceeds to fire off volleys of magic missiles in a swinging back and forth motion as he tries to cover a large area.

Even though the orcs are cut down in great numbers, they still press forward. This greatly boost' the morale of the remaining elven swordsmen, and they cry praises to their goddess.
As lord Gairon enters the melee, the battle swings in favor of the arkaran and his minions.
Still the mage and the 3 remaining warriors seem nervous about something...as if they were in a hurry.

Azirath tenses, sweat dripping from his forehead and fear swimming lazily in his eyes, and for the first time... He fires off a wave of emerald flame engulfing many of the orcs and whipping at the elf mage, he proceeds to bring up a globe of blue light to blind the elf, and any remaining orcs

Blue blood ran down Sacrafix's chest from the jagged hole torn by the elf-lord's blade. The blood slowly turned red, then black as it pooled beneath him, causing his feet to slip a little on the stone floor. His mind raced and he knew that his present strategy was doomed to failure.

Opening his mouth to speak for the first time to his new companions, he said in a winded voice, "We'll never defeat this host if we keep fighting seperately. Zey lets use Azirath's flash bolts as a distraction to form up around that mage and the nymph. Perhaps if we can defend them long enough, their magics can help even the odds.

While he fought his way closer to Azirath's position, his multifaceted eyes scanned the room for anything that might be used in his defense .... anything.

Having successfully dodged several attacks by the fiends clambouring to rip out the very heart which beats within Julius's chest, the bard looks about for the most convenient place to gather his wits. With his longsword in hand, emblazened with the symbol of fire (for indeed it is a flameblade), Julius gains the altar and leaps upon it. He stabs his sword into the altar itself and rushes to pull out his harp from his satchel. As though by magic, the battle stops momentarily at the sound of the bard's clear voice rising above the clash of metal. His music fills the ears of all present and his music rushes into the battle as though wind. Julius's song is now resonating throughout the halls. The battle resumes more fervently than ever, but there is a sense that the enemy is becoming desperate while the party gains ground.


VICTORY IS OURS
by Julius Skull

"From the vales of Aryador
Where the swords of evil fail,
And the hearts of heroes soar
Where courage billows like a sail,
And the scent of fear airborne
From the enemies of good
Renews the grass where it was shorne,
And the onslaughts all withstood,
Where the orcen blood does run,
Like rivers on the forest floor,
Victory I do summon
From the Vales of Aryador.
Victory is ours
From the vales of Aryador."

The arkaran mage easily turns the magic upon the gith himself and his warriors prepare to deliver the killing blow.
But suddenly an arrow strikes one of the warriors in the chest, and another elf falls as an arrow hits him in eye.
Then the orcs are engulfed in a rain of arrows.
" No!" the mage screams.
"This is not over Mithura! Your petty god WILL fall before the might of Arkara!"
Then he lobs a fireball at the ceiling and
his large cloak turns into a pair of wings
and he flies away."
The last warrior desperatly charges his unseen enemy.
Moments later a large group of elves in blue robes enter the cathedral.
" Oh thank the gods! You arrived at the last moment Fandoren!" the nymph-like woman says.
" Fortunely my summoned creatures were very adept at holding him at bay."
An old elf steps forth.
" He is growing powerful. His tactics are brilliant! We might not be so lucky next time."

Azirath sighs in weary relief, appauled at the elf's power, and his own weakness. He scant speaks but to say "Well lads, pleasure to make your acquaintance." He smiles thinly as he slumps on to his knees and begins a ceremony to heal his companions' wounds...

*Zey looked around for an enemy, but seeing none the blood fury lost hold. The red Pupils of his eyes contracted to normal size and his wounds were flowing freely with black blood. He looked around, then tracing an un-identifiable shape in the air, his wounds closed, but didn't heal. Then, Zey promptly passed out from exhaustion.*

Mathetais dropped weary arms to his sides and reviewed the wounds he had garnered in the battle. They were savage, but he would live.

Sheathing his blades he addressed the nymph and the heroic elf who had seemingly saved the day. Clearing his throat to get their attention the wind carried his voice to their ears.

"Your summoned creatures seek an audience with your august personages. Please deign to inform us why you called us hence and what service you will graciously ask us to perform." The sarcasm dripped from his voice like the blood from his wounds, but his clear gray eyes were earnest.

Azirath chanted the final holy word and traced a rune in the air and with that healed the wounds of his companions. He stood and asked "Yes, what is it that we are to do?"

(I realize this is not dnd but i would like to give my stats just so that i can better define my character)

STR: 10
CON: 11
DEX: 18
INT: 20
WIS: 18
CHA: 17

Level 18 Mage/Sorcerer/Cleric/Druid/Arcane (yeah it is strange but consider my character a dabbler in various magical/divine magicks, especially those of arcane nature)

[This message has been edited by Azirath (edited September 28, 2001).]

The battle now over, Julius surveys the room which is littered with the corpses of the fallen. He checks his own body to make sure the adrenaline of the battle which still courses through him does not obscure any great wound. Satisfied of his state of being, Julius removes his sword from the altar and sheathes it, reloads his crossbows and returns them to his sides, and covers his harp, placing it carefully inside his satchel once again. He speaks cautiously,

"I am Julius Skull, a bard. If my song has helped thee, then thou art friend, if it has hindered thee then may ye be fallen or preparing to pass into the next life. Should ye dislike my words, then thou art mine foe."

With a deliberate, almost practised, look about the room, Julius continues,

"My sword and my harp then is at thy bidding. Whomever the coward was who summoned us in unison to this spot must pay for this insult. I will not rest until I discover his motives and may sing of his death. My qualities are not so much in brute force, but I am quick and evasive, While i may not be the brightest of these lands, I am no fool, and I might need my comforts sooner than most, my wit has need of rest to be effective. In laymen's terms:


Bard, High level

S: 11
D: 19 (read a manual)
CN:12
I: 13
W: 15
Ch:19 (gift from the gods)

"May our story be heralded throughout the ages!"

*Zey was sleeping so deeply that, to a casual glance, he appeared to be dead. If one were to watch him while he slept, one would see his wounds mending before their eyes.*

STR: 19
Con: 19 (Raczeranoc regenerate)
Dex: 19
Int: 6
Wis: 3
Cha: 6

I'm not sure what Sacrafix's stats are. He's never been a P&P character and I didn't think of him in those terms.

There was a class released in Dragon Magazine years ago called the Duelist (similar to the kensi) and he is loosely based on that.

I don't want him to be a power-player, but he is old and a survivor, so here it goes ....

STR: 17
DEX: 19
CON: 15
WIS: 12
INT: 16
CHA: 9

...don't stick me to that. An overview is that Sacrafix is stronger than average, very fast and mentally sharp. Diplomatic skills can be very high if he wants to, but he normally doesn't care what people think of him.

" I apologize that I did not contact you, before I summoned you, but I was desperate.
I am sure you can understand. Very well...
I am Mithura, mistress of the conjurers of the land of Eliacort. An hour ago lord Gairon and a large horde of orcs attacked my citadel.
With king Fandorens elves nearby, he would only have an hour to defeat me, so therefore I needed a diversion.
Be glad that you have served a noble goal.
I serve life and the arkarans death.
When I regain my power I shall send you back...with an aproriate award of course."

Azirath smirked irritatingly and added in acidic tones "I am quite displeased with these events, and I cannot help but wonder why me? why us? surely there are greater heroes, please tell me more..."
(Yes I did change my dnd stats above, as it seemed all the rest of the characters were far stronger, and I wanted to better fit the campaign, it seems like it may be quite a high level one)

[This message has been edited by Azirath (edited September 28, 2001).]

*Zey stirs and finally gets up, looking up at Mithura, his wounds almost fully closed. He bears his sharp teeth and hisses in anger at being ripped away from his world, where he was busy training. The Raczeranoc is obviously unhappy and looks ready to take on everyone at once if he must.*

Startled at the beast's reaction Azirath places his hands up in a "stop" gesture and says calmly and coolly "Hold... it is in all of our best interests if we hear the lady out." With that he places a wall of reflection in front of Zey should he charge and attack

[This message has been edited by Azirath (edited September 29, 2001).]

Xal, his mind quite exausted, looks at the other strange creatures that were fighting with him and wonders what they are saying. If his mindwere strong enough he would try to enter theirs and learn the language, but alas he is exausted and sits in ignorance as the others talk amongst themselves.

*Zey sense the presence of the wall and turns his gaze on Azirath, his eyes oddly glowing red, as if reflecting an inner fire. He hisses low and menacingly, his hatred at the attempt to keep him from attacking.*

Xal begins to feel dizzy, sounds distort, and he passes out.

"By the gods! Are you sure you can control these fiends?!" Fandoren says.
Mithura quickly steps between Zey and Azirath.
" Enough! You will stop this nonsense at once! Obey me! OBEY ME! Oh no!"
" Mithura! Send these demons back whence they came NOW!"
" Something is wrong! I can't control the spell anymore!"

Azirath feeling the anger building all over the room shields himself in a shimmering sphere of silvery-white ki that destorts his form as if it were water. He quickly weaves a spell of major warding, and floats smoothly into the air. In his mind he readies a spell of line of sight teleportation should the need arise to use it. With a snap of his slender fingers a shimmering blue throwing dagger of pure energy appears in his hand, he readies his staff in the other, and glares piercingly at Zey...

*Zey growls lowly at Azirath, ignoring Mithura. His eyes begin turning completely black and Azirath feels a force begin draining away the energy from his magical shields, as if leeching them. As the energy drains, the black glow in his eyes begin to encompass his body, turning him into a spot of blackness before the eyes of the onlookers*

"Enough!" Screams Azirath piercingly, he feels power surging from the creature more powerful than most of the adversaries he has faced. He continues to feed power into his shields and wardings and sets up an impenetrable barrier of ever-shifting red and silver around himself. He snaps his fingers and the energy dagger is gone, and he holds his staff back behind his back, and holds out one hand in a "halt" gesture, with that he moves slowly toward Zey all the while holding out his hand, hoping that this does not turn in to a battle as he first suspected...

*Zey looks at a large rock near him, then concentrates on it. A thin black beam snakes out to it, then suddenly turns into a huge beam and then a flash like lightning followed by a sound akin to thunder. As vision is restored, the rock is seen only in many parts, having been blown to shards by the destructive beam of released magic energy.*

The conjurer desperatly tries to regain control over the githzerai and Racseranoc, but falls exhausted to the ground.
The elven king quickly takes her in his arms,
and orders his army to run like mad.

Mathetais allowed a tendril of his cloak to attach itself to the feeling elves.

Turning to the battle about to begin, he shouted, "Stop this at once! The enemy is not among us! Together, maybe, we can win our way back to our homes."

"That is precisely what I am trying to do!" Azirath drops his magic shields and wardings in an act of good will and to prove he wishes no ill towards Zey.

*Zey sits down on the ground, like a dog sits. He watches the rest in silence, waiting for the next line of action.*

Sacrafix growled to himself, "I'm not leadership material! Thank Gallians that these two are pulling themselves back together."

Turning to his companions he allowed the hood of his cloak to melt away, revealing the scarred face of a demi-human. His ancestery looked uncertain and most people wrote him off as a multi-bred mutt, such as were becoming more common with the intermingling of the races.

Sighing he said, "I know not what worlds you come from, but it appears that we are now companions of necessity. I attached a trailer to our Nympho-summoner. Shall we follow her and her elven consort so that we can begin to unravel this mystery?"

*Zey sits silently, waiting for orders, as a good soldier does.*

Xal comes around and sees nothing of what he had when he was last lucid. He feels somewhat refreshed, and his mind is concentrated once again. Now as the others talk he is able to understand the language.

"Yes" says Azirath in slick tones. "I think good sir, that would be a wise decision." He stand waiting and at ready...

Julius awakens from his long nap and takes a look around.

"A fine mess i'm in today.... I'm getting hungry, perhaps a feast is in order.... shall i hunt some rabbit?"

*Zey stays silent and watches the rest talk. In his mind he considers who to trust and not, liking the mage, he has proven his worth. Unsure about the rest, Zey decides the Mage (Azirath) would make a good leader and moves over to him and sits near him, watching the rest.*

"Azirath is as good as any other", Sacrafix growled. "But I suggest we let our hunger pangs rumble a while longer and hunt the people who got us into this instead. I'd like to sink my teeth into that rabbit ..."

Azirath moves back and puts his hands up reluctantly "I am honored that you both find me worthy of being your leader... but I fear that my worth would be more as a... strategist than any kind of leader. I don't feel I have the leadership qualities of some others here. Sacrafix or perhaps the bard there, or the psi warrior, but not I..."

[This message has been edited by Azirath (edited October 03, 2001).]

Sacrafix began walking after the nymph and her elven companions.

"Leadership is best determined by action, not by votes. We're not casting lots to see who gets to be the Sha of Pergaborg! We are facing certain death in an alien enviorment. Let us move or let us rot.

"As for me, I shall follow her and begin solving this mystery."

"I shall follow where she goes as well." Says Azirath boldly. With that he begins casting a plethora of protective and reflective magicks upon himself, and in a wink of light his ruby topped staff of dark wood is gone, and in a second flash a large druish walking staff of grey-blue wood with runes carved all along its surface takes its place. "This is my enchanted staff which i forged from a thick branch which fell off the Tree of Solitude, a landmark of my homeland. It is quite powerful, and obviously magical"

(A D&D description of my staff so that you know its abilities and uses)

Druid's Staff +4 "Arcane Instrument"
Enchantments: Indestructible, Infinite casting of "Minor Heal", Ability to cast "Command Word: Die" at the cost of sapping all my energy, Increased speed and accuracy in combat when wielding it, Usable and wieldable only by me

*Zey leaps into the air and spreads his wings, gliding above the group. He watches for anything hostile, taking close looks at the shadows. His night vision penetrates the darkness, while his ability to see heat and movement augment his searching.*

OoC: Divine Shadow; please reply on the Attn RC DMs thread.

Azirath looks around the room, and in the corner sees an orc pulling his arm back to throw an axe at the nymph-like woman, in a swift downward slash of his staff and a mystic word he is in front of the orc, and in a second upward motion, the orc's head is off its body...

[This message has been edited by Azirath (edited October 04, 2001).]

As you step outside there are no signs of the army that was here moments before.
From the mountop the monastary is placed upon, you see a great wood-land surrounded by mountains.
Far away there is an enourmous white tower.
The other way you can see huge grasslands and even more mountains. Suddenly a feeling of terror overwhelms you.
Whatever is behind those mountains, it is an evil you have never experienced before.

[This message has been edited by Divine Shadow (edited October 08, 2001).]

*Zey flies above the trees, heading towards the mountains, looking for danger.*

Azirath casts a silent divination spell, but discovers nothing of immediate danger...

You can't either see or sense any danger, but it still feels like you are being watched. Something isn't as it seems.

Azirath promptly says "I can *sense* that there is something about, but my divination reveals nothing..."

If you are waiting for me...don't.
What is about to happen is entirely dependant on your actions...

*Zey landed on the ground and disappeared into the foliage like a shadow. Staying low he stalked his lunch, still looking for something to eat.*

Suddenly the forrest is alive with savage elven warriors who quickly overbear the racseranoc.
" Throw down your weapons and surrender...or else!"

*Zey can't seem to understand the elves, and viciously tries to bite and claw the ones holding him, heedless of the consequences*

Sorry everyone but I'm leaving this site.
Check my post in whatnots.
Maybe I'll return to continue the campaign sooner or later...