Posted by Ulric on November 24, 1999 at 16:54:17:
In Reply to: For the storytellers out there posted by Bored player on November 23, 1999 at 23:54:18:
The old, gnarled tree sat silently under the azure sky, as winds caressed it's dry, long-dead branches. The sun began it's long descent over the horizon, and the winds grew quiet. Not a sound was heard as the moon crept up to its place in the cold, dark sky. The branches of the tree began to shiver. Slowly, the tree began to contort and writhe. As the moon beamed down it's mystical light, the tree completed it's transformation. A small, gnome stretched her arms, and walked away from the dark, wet spot that was left behind. She lifted her head to the stars and breathed deeply, filling her lungs with air, and vitality, and hope. The druid closed her eyes, lifted her arms to the heavens, and whispered a silent prayer. She seemed made of stone...for endless moments she stood motionless, calling upon the mysterious powers which guided her. Eventually, a great beast came by her side. An enormous badger, with razor claws and gleaming teeth stood by her, willing to give its life for this little gnome. Even then, she didn't move...and soon after a great rustling could be heard. A giant oak emerged from the forest, shambling along on great, gnarled roots, slowly dragging it's massive bulk to the druid's side. With her companions, the gnome began to walk to the east, to the city which she both despised and needed at once. *** Far to the east, beyond the great sea, a nightmare was occuring. Things which would send full-grown brave men screaming in terror. A great skeletal beast lumbered along, carryong in its dry, bleached bones a mage of great power. A crimson glow surrounded the beast and rider, a hellish protection of fire and energy that would incinerate lesser creatures. A low, guttural rumbling rushed from the rider's lips, ancient incantations of evil and decay. Its lip-less mouth spewed forth ancient spells of demonic roots, surrounding itself with the lifeforce of the eternally damned. The lich raised it's arms to the sky, and filled itself with the power of nature itself. One would say a smile crept across its face, if there was more to see than a grinning, leering, evil skull. *** In a dark cave, two hulking masses sat and brooded. ***
"Tis time, I tell ye. Smite him while he's down."
The larger of the two took a long drag of his tabbac, blew out a few circles of smoke, and chuckled,
"Nay, not yet. Patience. Are you so eager to embrace death, young Naevor?"
The smaller of the two, who was still large enough to equal 3 humans, simply snarled and continued to sharpen his mammoth axe, which was already glistening with a cold death.
Hmm...perhaps another bardic one will continue this tale...