Dusty Paintings

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Molded Scrolls

Our first installment of one of them story-type thingies...

The Dark Savoir
By Laudanum Incendium

The stalactite-adorned ceiling of Darkness Falls reverberated with concussion blasts as I threw my spells at a plated fiend.  I was there for the same reason so many venture into the maw of Darkness Falls – I was after power and riches.  Unfortunately I found myself grouped with a stranger with whom my particular style of combat did not seem to gel.  We had tried several attempts to work our skills symbiotically; each time death threatened with sharp, pointy, nasty teeth.  I was close to giving up. My hands were sore from casting and my feet from running.  It was then that the cry went up like a banshee’s wail, “The Hibs are coming!”

Confusion ensued.  Brave warriors in resplendent armor dashed boldly into the depths of Darkness Falls, while less experienced adventures ran for the portal and safety with all haste.  I watched the numbers of my fellow Albions grow smaller and the number of potentially profitable monsters increase.  A greedy smile spread across my lips.

“Shall we stay? There is still much to be gained here,” I asked my unlikely companion.  He shrugged and offered a reply of, “Sure.”  With the chamber at our disposal, we continued our futile extermination of plated fiends.  The dungeon grew quiet, except for a few death cries floating up to us from the nether chambers as our fellow Albions died at the merciless hands of Hiberian warriors.  The tension was palpable.  Then it happened.

Somehow my unfortunate partner has brought the wrath of an entire troupe of malicious apprentices upon him.  I am pleased to tell you my partner fought valiantly.  He relentlessly hacked those sadistic mages with a dazzling array of moves with his trusty sword.  I cast like a mad woman.  Fire exploded everywhere and the stench of charred and burning flesh was unbearable.  But there was just too many of them.  My partner fell to their onslaught with a cry that do this day wakes me from my sleep with a cold sweat upon my skin.  I was now alone, bleeding and facing two very enraged apprentices.  I poured all I was into those spells.  The first enemy fell after delivering to me a most damaging wound. I found it hard to concentrate my spells on the last aggressor as my lifeblood drained from me. I was getting woozy and the familiar incantations seemed to run from my mind as my feet longed to run from the death before me.  But there was no time to run, no one to help.  I felt this would be my last stand and I was going to fight as bravely as my fallen partner.  I had not the concentration to pull even the most elementary of spells so I turned to my last resort:  my staff.  I swung my staff with all the resolve of a fanatical friar converting a heretic.  Still, my lifeblood flowed, and my arms grew heavy, my strikes slowed. I knew this was the end.  The next attack from the apprentice would kill me.  I knew it.  Knew it in my bones.  The next attack never came.

Like a dark angel a figure appeared before me and slew the apprentice with one blow.  From the richly ornate armor and the pointed ears I saw that my savior was a very powerful Elf!  Dumbstruck, I bowed to him before he vanished again before my eyes.  I sat or rather fell to the ground in shock.  An elf had saved me from a gruesome death in the unforgiving chambers of Darkness Falls!  It seemed far too surreal.  Perhaps the loss of blood had made me delusional… but no, it was true.  I shook with terror and uncertainty.  Why?  Why did the elf not just let the apprentice end a life that would surely be taking the life of his comrades in the future?  Why did the elf not slay me?  Why was I permitted to live?  Finding strength again I ran from Darkness Falls with the fear that any moment an Elven blade would find its way between my shoulder blades.

To this day those questions haunt me.  I do not know the name of my dark savior.  It is the thought that perhaps I may one day slay the very Elf that saved me that leaves me wakeful in the late hours of night.  There is no way to repay him without being a traitor.  There is no way to let him know that in all the carnage and hate of our war torn realms there is one Albion wizard that owes him a debt of gratitude.

Editor's Note:  I've seen this happen more than you would think...  Seems the Hibernians have a warped sense of honor, or something.  Both Olyvar & Arahn have um, taken advantage of high level Hibbies rolling through DF -- when I know I can't win, I run screaming towards the entrance...  They almost always get me before the monster does, and I appreciate it greatly -- but I wish we could tell them this just as much as Laudanum does.  Oh well, time to go "convert" some more Lurikeens! :)