After 350 years of blizzards and crushing ice, there is a slight lull in winter's fury, as if Mulcarn is distracted by something. The Children of Kylorin the last great Archmage take up their swords and seek to bring about The Thaw and save mankind!
But some hope remains. The goddess Nantosuelta, who loved Sucellus, whispered to her most loyal follower, an archmage kept alive from a previous age and told him what he must do.
Kylorin was unique among men, the first to be trained in the art of magic by the evil goddess Ceridwen, whom he later betrayed to follow Nantosuelta. Directly instructed by both the evil goddess of conjuration and the good goddess of enchantment he was the most legendary figure of his age, and for now he is the most legendary figure of another age as well.
For decades he has spread knowledge, learning and civilization among the Amurite tribes, leading them from the cold darkness of ignorance, to the warm light of enlightenment. Yet among all his teachings he left behind something more important; his children.
Born of the various tribes of men, and elf, the Children of Kylorin have slowly been gathered by Kylorin's own follower Saeldur of the Sylvanhel. Some have willingly joined the quest, while others have broken away on their own paths.
Kylorin has vanished but winter has taken a slight down turn, and the signs in the sky aligned, Kylorin's plan is in motion, and he must now rely on his children to pick up his torch and burn away the frost.
Perhaps it was seconds ago, perhaps days, but your last memories are of fleeing Parth Ernil through the Slyvanhel Moon Gate. The last to step through the gate was Saeldur, and he will be the last living person to set eyes on that ancient stronghold. Macalanios never arrives, he remained behind to secure your exit and hold the gate open for as long as he could. A noble sacrifice and one that may weight heavy on the hearts of those he saved. Are the Children of Kylorin truely worth such a sacrifice?
Expecting to exit the Moon Gate to arrive in another, everyone is shocked to find themselves deposited into the middle of a blizzard in the middle of nowhere. All around you is the swirling screaming howl of blinding snow. The exit from the magical portal is rough, and most find themselves landing in knee deep snow toppling over from the blasting winds.
Lehros the first one through is on his feet, the Rod of Khendrajan held tightly in his hands to ward off the bitting cold of the storm. He turns and watches as Saeldur arrives last waiting for Macalanios to arrives, but the Anhel never does. The swirling power of the vortex begins to fade, and is consumed by the storm vanishing from sight. Lehros shouts over the screaming wind, his voice barely audible over the storm. "We need shelter!" A hand to his brow he tries to look through the snow storm, "We need it now!"
Welcome to Chapter 3 Ill Made Graves of the Age of Ice game. You have escape Parth Ernil to find youselves in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a terrible blizzard. You have not rested or anything like that so stats and buffs from the last fight are still in effect. Luckily everyone has Endur Elements currently up.
Last edited by Vardaen on Thu Nov 17, 2011 1:05 am, edited 2 times in total.
Saeldur looks around through the uniform whiteness around him. The shock of Macalanios's death, the destruction of Parth Ernil, and now their transport to the middle of nowhere was almost too much. For just a moment he feels the crushing weight of responsibility that is on all their shoulders, and wonders at how they can possibly succeed. But then he remembers how Kylorin had shown strength in far worse times. And that memory gives him the strength to carry on.
"I'm nearly out of spells," he shouts, though it comes out barely audible in the wind. "And none of what I have left will create shelter." He looks back and forth for any sign of tree, rock, or anything that might help as a makeshift shelter. "I've a small tent," he calls out, "but that's it."
Take ten on a Survival check (result=18 ) to try and figure out what we can do for shelter. That should cover me and three others. It's not everyone, but it's close. Hopefully someone else has Survival too.
Vibrika lands and looks around her, her face a mask of shock as she would have thought they'd land in civilization- even a dead one like the one they left.
She pushes the negative away from her, knowing they much work quickly to survive out here. She looks around trying to guage where they are and if there is any natural shelter around.
When Saeldur speaks she remembers the woman's body she dragged through and begins to search for anything of use in this situation.
Finding some goggles, Vibrika slides them on and looks around again hoping they allow her more visibility.
We will find this f-ing troll, and kill it's f-ing ass.
Stumbling almost drunkenly, Flint Striker's delighted whoop at their survival is drowned out by the howling of winds. Looking around, he too seeks some kind of shelter; even burrowing in the snow might be preferable in this condition.
Egbert has seen some snowstorms, but has never travelled far and has no experience in surviving the wilds. He looks at his siblings, especially Lehros, and says, trying to keep calm: "Holy Lugus, where are we here? Can you find some sort of shelter?"
Lehros pushes through the blinding snow, "This isn't natural!" His voice is shouting, but you can just barely hear him. The young Half Anhel moves in close to Saeldur and the two scan the snow, there is nothing to suggest anything around you is more than more and more snow. "Stay here!" He points at the ground right here he's standing, "Dont get seperated!" Lehros then marches off into the snowstorm and after fifteen feet he is eaten up by the swirling blinding snow storm.
For what seems like hours he is gone; the rest of you huddle together, your magical wards the only thing keeping you from freezing to death exposed as you are. Vibrika has put on the snowblind goggles of the dead woman she brought through the gate, and they help reduce the stinging blinding snow by covering her up her face a bit.
The whiteout of the blizzard is disorienting, and the howling wind begins to grow in strength and noise. Soon the blizzard's dangers become all too real as the snow around your legs begins to pile up as drifts of snow blow around you, threatening to bog down ant movement whatsoever.
The howling wind begins to grow, louder and louder, and everyone starts to look worried. The Howl of the Mulcarn, a long time legend about the voice of the God of Winter Mulcarn comes to mind. They say when the winds howl during a blizzard that it is the voice of Mulcarn seeking the death of all those that hear his wintry voice. Perhaps you escaped Parth Enril only to be killed out in the wild lost and disoriented.
Then a hand grabs Vibrika's shoulder, "This way sister!" It is Lehros, he has returned. He holds his hood over his head with one hand, "I found some shelter." In his other hand is the Rod, planted firmly in the earth, it seems to be lending the scout some aid among the deepening snow.
Egbert is relieved to see his half brother and smiles at him as he returns. "Blessed Aedon, good to see you." He follows Lehros to wherever he leads them.
"Oh thank goodness!" She briefly hugs Lehros then turns to the others, "Come on." She begins to move in the direction Lehros came from, ready to follow and get out of the cold and windy storm quickly.
We will find this f-ing troll, and kill it's f-ing ass.
Saeldur takes up the rear. For despite his scholarly training, no Sylvanhel that ranges outside of their enclaves leaves without receiving some training in surviving in the arctic world outside. But before they all depart, he pulls from his pack a length of uncommonly thin, yet strong, rope.
"Take hold of this!" he shouts to the children of Kylorin over the screaming wind. "Hold tight or wrap it around yourself. We can't afford to get separated."
Keep darkened goggles on if things are too bright. (Usually snow blindness is more of a danger when it's sunny.) Also, if skis would make a difference (and it was possible to put them on) I'll use them.
Saeldur produces some fine elven rope and hands it out, stringing everyone together to prevent from being lost. He leaves his goggles on to help against the force of blowing snow. Then he unstraps those ski's he's been lugging around, stapping them to his feet. They are short skis, only about four feet in length. They will help the Sylvanhel glide through and over the snow allowing him an increased speed. He realizes that Lehros too wears a pair of the same style skis. The two elves bookend the group, one leads, and one follows, everyone tied together on a rope. The three humans have no footgear to aid in the blizzard and so trudge on in the freezing snow.
But some hope remains. The goddess Nantosuelta, who loved Sucellus, whispered to her most loyal follower, an archmage kept alive from a previous age and told him what he must do.
