bojjenclon

Campaign

Ciraas the Living Phylactery

Ciraas stood at the black gates of the Necropolis, taking a moment to stop and question if this was really the right thing for her to do. She'd messed up, yes, but servitude to the Lich King? Perhaps there was another way... "No," she thought to herself. This was it. This was how she'd learn to control the powers she found herself with; the powers she didn't know well enough to save her father.

Blood in the Cruek

Cruek stood by the flowing water, using his scooper to drink from it a scoop at a time. The sun sat high over head. The temperature was warm and the air heavy. The ground beneath his feet crunched with each minor move he made, the grass not surviving long enough to remain green. It was truly a beautiful day. When his mouth no longer felt dry, the rugged dwarf placed his scooper in the leather loop at his belt and turned away from the water.

Exit Gajol, Enter Jemm'bo

"Come on you orc fuck, you're slowin' us down!" Xarvir's shrill voice pierced Jemm'bo's ears despite the hushed tone he spoke in. The tiefling had a wild grin on his face as he messed with his comrade. Of course, slow and steady was often the best way to handle these sorts of missions. They both knew that. But that wouldn't stop Xarvir from giving his old friend a hard time.

Airabella's Last Stand

The princess sat on her throne, a look of deep contemplation resting on her face. She was so lost in thought, the scurrying steps of her forward scout completely evaded her attention. "M'lady, it grows closer." The lithe young man said nervously. Princess Airabella placed a hand gently on the man's shoulder, "I know Bernard... I know... Thank you for relaying your report, you are dismissed for today. Go try to relax for the night, okay?