Ironworks Gaming Forum - View Single Post - Part 7>>>The Shadow of Love (an LoF adventure)

Morgeruat · 12-05-2005, 02:17 PM

Morguerat

Few men truly face their fears, those that do in these realms fo fantasy are often devoured by them and leave widows and orphans behind them. The less serious fears still often break those of weak will who try to face them. But how does that compare to a man who has been broken, both literally and figuratively, by the piercing of an arrow in this tower. Helm, a stoic god devoted completely to his role as a guardian had been assigned the task of guarding the celestial realms, the very homes of the gods, from the beings who had shaped them, and made them their own. His work had destroyed several powerful gods, as well as himself, but because of his unwavering devotion to his assigned task he had been reinstated, and restored by a being as far above Helm as Helm was above humans, once restored he still did not waver, or pause when presented with the threat of fighting his brothers in power. Such was the example for those who retained the worship of Helm. Because of his devotion he expects no less from his followers, making it nearly impossible for those who offend him to regain his good graces. And yet, somehow a minor figure in the grand scheme had done so, Helm had given Morguerat back one of the abilities he gave to his paladins. And then scant moments later it all came crashing down.

A minor scratch from an arrow, the wound itself did little, but what it represented began to unravel the confidence of this champion of godly might. He thought, pushing at the haze that clouded much of his mind, as he scrambled for cover, shielded Senora with himself until he was out of the corridor. Three, three shall be the number of the counting, and the number of the counting shall be three. Thou shalt not count to four, neither shalt thou count to 2, unless thou dost immediately proceed to three, five is right out. There had been three arrows, one was broken and had been used against him by Neb, the misspaped ball he carried about his neck had come from the head of it, no he didn't carry it, it had vanished when he joined this game, but he had a shrouded memory of a sword and a withered crone in connection to it...

His thoughts snapped back to the present, there were still two tainted arrows somewhere in this game, very possibly in the possession of that thing up the stairs. The thought sent cold shivers up his spine and bolted him to the floor, white as a ghost.

12-05-2005, 02:17 PM	#52
Morgeruat Jack Burton Join Date: October 16, 2001 Location: PA Age: 45 Posts: 5,421	Morguerat Few men truly face their fears, those that do in these realms fo fantasy are often devoured by them and leave widows and orphans behind them. The less serious fears still often break those of weak will who try to face them. But how does that compare to a man who has been broken, both literally and figuratively, by the piercing of an arrow in this tower. Helm, a stoic god devoted completely to his role as a guardian had been assigned the task of guarding the celestial realms, the very homes of the gods, from the beings who had shaped them, and made them their own. His work had destroyed several powerful gods, as well as himself, but because of his unwavering devotion to his assigned task he had been reinstated, and restored by a being as far above Helm as Helm was above humans, once restored he still did not waver, or pause when presented with the threat of fighting his brothers in power. Such was the example for those who retained the worship of Helm. Because of his devotion he expects no less from his followers, making it nearly impossible for those who offend him to regain his good graces. And yet, somehow a minor figure in the grand scheme had done so, Helm had given Morguerat back one of the abilities he gave to his paladins. And then scant moments later it all came crashing down. A minor scratch from an arrow, the wound itself did little, but what it represented began to unravel the confidence of this champion of godly might. He thought, pushing at the haze that clouded much of his mind, as he scrambled for cover, shielded Senora with himself until he was out of the corridor. Three, three shall be the number of the counting, and the number of the counting shall be three. Thou shalt not count to four, neither shalt thou count to 2, unless thou dost immediately proceed to three, five is right out. There had been three arrows, one was broken and had been used against him by Neb, the misspaped ball he carried about his neck had come from the head of it, no he didn't carry it, it had vanished when he joined this game, but he had a shrouded memory of a sword and a withered crone in connection to it... His thoughts snapped back to the present, there were still two tainted arrows somewhere in this game, very possibly in the possession of that thing up the stairs. The thought sent cold shivers up his spine and bolted him to the floor, white as a ghost.