Punky3025
6th February 2008, 01:08 PM
The Mechanostrider puttered quietly, the uneven but dependable bubbling of its gnomish engineering a testament to the creativity and skill of a now homeless people. Shortmage sat quiet, waiting. He could feel the throb of arcane energy from the waters below. Finally Gazrankia surfaced. Unnoticed, his arcane scared eyes sharpened. Quietly he uttered the spell of seeking. Gazrankia stiffened, sensing the use of seeking magic, she dived under the water. No attack came....it was not yet time
Gazrankia knew the mage has sensed the presence of the book. How many of his kind would come. When would they realize that the tome was theirs no longer and belonged to her. For 300 years now she had had possession of the book. So many had come for it. The flesh of those practiced in the arcane arts had a distinct flavour, even that of the repugnant undead. Human mages actually tasted the best.....thank the gods the dwarfish never took a liking to magic !
As the beast submerged Shortmage felt both elated and apprehensive. This foe was far beyond him alone. He has sought this final treasure for years...the completion of his spell book and place as a master mage. Shortmage had angered the council of mages to such an extent that they had refused him access to the libraries of the master mages. It was, however, beyond even the authority of the council to deny a mage with a full spell book. "Keeping company with a Dwarf is NOT acceptable !", they had said........Shortmage focused his mind. In a blink he was in Iron Forge.
Predikant, politician, comedian was possibly one of the worst priests ever to don cloth. He was infamous for "spells going horribly wrong" because his grammar was so poor. Shortmage always told him. Poor grammar leads to poor spell casting. The advice fell on deaf ears. Predikant was just too stubborn. It was, however, time to call on this friend of friends to arrange an expedition to Zul' Gurab. Predikant could sell ice to an Eskimo and con the underwear off of a bloodelf barmaid. It didn't take him long to charm an expedition party into existence.
"What do you mean you want to share my fishing tackle ! " was the only comment that Crosseye had about being asked to go to Zul'Gurub. Tenghi sat quietly at the fire side smoking his pipe and stroking his tail. He has watched the mage and dwarf carry on for hours about who would lure the beast from the depths, whose fishing rod was best and who the best fisherman was. Secretly he knew that Zeus could out fish them both and probably would. The shaman had long resigned himself to the fact that one day he would be called upon to help his mage friend. It was the only honourable thing to do...after all a life for a life.
And so they entered Zul'gurub ready to face Gaz'rankia. Crosseye and Shortmage had come to the agreement that they would both be fishing, only after mutterings of turning dwarves into pigs and mages into archery targets. Bait in hand they prepared to face the beast.....
Gaz'rankia seduced by the fragrant mudskunk glided to the surface. The sudden, searing pain of Titan's dagger dug deep. Gaz'rankia was enraged, unable to find the rogue she focused her brutal response on Zeus. One tenth of the brutes size Zeus stood determined, resolute. Gunderstup's foul curses attacked the beast's mind, a cloud of shadow energy surrounded him. Shortmage glowed an icy blue, the released arcane energy of the frost bolts so powerful that the very waters began to ice around him. The battle was mighty and raged back and forth. Would Gaz'rankia yield her life and the treasure she possessed?
Tenghi was in a world of his own. His calm instruction of Sesilia on healing techniques was almost clinical. He was, however, beginning to grow weary. Even the bow of Crosseye was slowing. Predikant paused and gathered his remaining reserves...he then uttered a final spell "shadow word DEATH!"
Gaz'rankia's eyes glazed, her mighty body scared with a thousand dagger and sword wounds trembled. Bolts of ice and shadow had struck her flesh many times. The fiery blood streaming from her wounds ceased. Shadow magic crushed her tired bleeding heart.....
The incantation of the tome pasted over the mage's lips in a whisper. The tome crumbled into ash as the knowledge passed from it. The party sat exhausted. Predikant began to explain the virtues of shadow magic and why priests should be regarded as the "most able" casting class. Gunderstup glanced at Shortmage and whispered "Do you think you could turn that bloody meddling priest into a pig for a while....wait perhaps a turtle, they don't make any noise do they?"
Gazrankia knew the mage has sensed the presence of the book. How many of his kind would come. When would they realize that the tome was theirs no longer and belonged to her. For 300 years now she had had possession of the book. So many had come for it. The flesh of those practiced in the arcane arts had a distinct flavour, even that of the repugnant undead. Human mages actually tasted the best.....thank the gods the dwarfish never took a liking to magic !
As the beast submerged Shortmage felt both elated and apprehensive. This foe was far beyond him alone. He has sought this final treasure for years...the completion of his spell book and place as a master mage. Shortmage had angered the council of mages to such an extent that they had refused him access to the libraries of the master mages. It was, however, beyond even the authority of the council to deny a mage with a full spell book. "Keeping company with a Dwarf is NOT acceptable !", they had said........Shortmage focused his mind. In a blink he was in Iron Forge.
Predikant, politician, comedian was possibly one of the worst priests ever to don cloth. He was infamous for "spells going horribly wrong" because his grammar was so poor. Shortmage always told him. Poor grammar leads to poor spell casting. The advice fell on deaf ears. Predikant was just too stubborn. It was, however, time to call on this friend of friends to arrange an expedition to Zul' Gurab. Predikant could sell ice to an Eskimo and con the underwear off of a bloodelf barmaid. It didn't take him long to charm an expedition party into existence.
"What do you mean you want to share my fishing tackle ! " was the only comment that Crosseye had about being asked to go to Zul'Gurub. Tenghi sat quietly at the fire side smoking his pipe and stroking his tail. He has watched the mage and dwarf carry on for hours about who would lure the beast from the depths, whose fishing rod was best and who the best fisherman was. Secretly he knew that Zeus could out fish them both and probably would. The shaman had long resigned himself to the fact that one day he would be called upon to help his mage friend. It was the only honourable thing to do...after all a life for a life.
And so they entered Zul'gurub ready to face Gaz'rankia. Crosseye and Shortmage had come to the agreement that they would both be fishing, only after mutterings of turning dwarves into pigs and mages into archery targets. Bait in hand they prepared to face the beast.....
Gaz'rankia seduced by the fragrant mudskunk glided to the surface. The sudden, searing pain of Titan's dagger dug deep. Gaz'rankia was enraged, unable to find the rogue she focused her brutal response on Zeus. One tenth of the brutes size Zeus stood determined, resolute. Gunderstup's foul curses attacked the beast's mind, a cloud of shadow energy surrounded him. Shortmage glowed an icy blue, the released arcane energy of the frost bolts so powerful that the very waters began to ice around him. The battle was mighty and raged back and forth. Would Gaz'rankia yield her life and the treasure she possessed?
Tenghi was in a world of his own. His calm instruction of Sesilia on healing techniques was almost clinical. He was, however, beginning to grow weary. Even the bow of Crosseye was slowing. Predikant paused and gathered his remaining reserves...he then uttered a final spell "shadow word DEATH!"
Gaz'rankia's eyes glazed, her mighty body scared with a thousand dagger and sword wounds trembled. Bolts of ice and shadow had struck her flesh many times. The fiery blood streaming from her wounds ceased. Shadow magic crushed her tired bleeding heart.....
The incantation of the tome pasted over the mage's lips in a whisper. The tome crumbled into ash as the knowledge passed from it. The party sat exhausted. Predikant began to explain the virtues of shadow magic and why priests should be regarded as the "most able" casting class. Gunderstup glanced at Shortmage and whispered "Do you think you could turn that bloody meddling priest into a pig for a while....wait perhaps a turtle, they don't make any noise do they?"