From: Darswinkle (Darswinkle_at_Darswinkles-Delights.com)
Date: Wed Apr 09 2003 - 17:47:16 BST
Shalandra steps up to Kaleb and puts her hand on his shoulder. "Kaleb, what do you want me to do with the prisoner?"
She pinches him with her nails (without it looking like she is) to wake him from his stuper.
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----- Original Message -----
From: Naron
To: PBeM 2
Sent: Wednesday, April 09, 2003 3:44 AM
Subject: Earthdawn PBeM BN 2.2
Your group travels, following behind the pair of orks for some time. Kaleb can offer no more insight and begins to get nervous with every step closer to the bandit stronghold. Pean also falls silent as he focusses his time on preparing his spells in his spell matrices. Temorya settle on the horse beside Meraerth and talks softly to him of Barsaive and its legends, hoping to spur his memory. Shalandra leads Shalamar ahead, stroking the horses nozzle, pondering the strange rider that had led her back.
Lost in your thoughts it seems like only minutes pass before the cliff face rises up ahead of you. Several burnt out wagon shells litter the ground around the front of a huge cave mouth that stretches only shallowly into the rock face. You see a couple of human sentries by the first wagon, drinking from a wineskin and laughing at an unheard joke. Beyond, you see at least another half dozen figures, mainly of human or dwarven countenance, wandering about another wagon that has been set alight. Each seems to be laughing or dancing around as an elf sitting close to the burning wagon plays the lute and sings a tale of a siren who had her heart stolen by an Ork.
The human sentries you pass stare at you curiously, but say nothing as the orks lead you amongst the remains of the burnt out caravans. Steering clear of the burning wagon, the Orks wait for you to catch up. As you meet them you see before them a chair that can only be described as a throne. Red satin seat, with rosewood base, slightly charred by damage it must have sustained when the bandits stole it off a merchant.
Almost comically wedged in the chair, that lookd to made for a human or elf, is a troll of immense proportions. A long blonde beard, braided into three strands comes to rest on his lap. His body swathed in the spider silk that marks your villages finest export. Looking around from a young orkish maiden he had been travelling on he smiles widely until he lays eyes on Kaleb.
"What is the meaning of this?!" He stands quickly, the throne clinging to his body for a brief second before falling back to the earth. Standing at least 9' tall, he stares at Kaleb. "The deal is done. And who are these?" The troll seems incensed at your presence as he waves an accusatory finger across you.
You look to Kaleb to continue the masquerade and find him jaw open, staring at the huge troll in abject terror. Completely lost for words......
<Moves please>
<Mark>
If you are into role-playing, check out http://users.bigpond.net.au/naron/
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