Dark Side of the Moon: Lady Grace Rescued from Defilers
WarderDragon
We gathered at Dupre's camp.
The aging drunk doesn't seem to have grown any more popular with the cities, in spite of his rescue of Britannia from Exodus, relegated to roasting weenies around a camp fire and singing kumbaya. However, not daunted by a little bad press, Dupre called upon volunteers and mercenaries from all corners of Trammel, appealing to the one thing we all hold in common: our shared xenophobia and fear of outsiders, especially the Umbral.
We raided the Necropolis, leaving it's defenders unprepared and in awe of our mighty awesomeness. With no sign of the kidnapped woman to be found, we began to search the manors and farms of those outside of town, for surely, the rich and powerful would never stoop to such nefarious ends. And lo and behold, we were right! In a field north of town, we discovered a band of thugs and cutpurses. (And no womenfolk.)
“Search for the High Executioner,” Dupre belched. We asked the old knight how we would recognize him. “His name! Search for his name!” (Apparently the Lord Paladin believes names float over peoples heads. What nonsense!)
He would have done better to tell us to search for the Blue Man Group, because he was the one leading this shindig.
Like any good Frenchman...er, Umbran, the High Executioner rolled over and died, but not before handing out a set of delightfully pink ropes to our strongest. Apparently this Umbral has more fairy in him than Lindae on an acid trip.
When all was said and done, balance was restored to fair Britannia. Dupre got the girl, those dreadful necromancers were put in their place, and somewhere out there, a rares collector is asphyxiating himself with a frilly pink rope.
* This editorial was bought and paid for by WarderDragon for President, 2012.
WarderDragon
We gathered at Dupre's camp.
The aging drunk doesn't seem to have grown any more popular with the cities, in spite of his rescue of Britannia from Exodus, relegated to roasting weenies around a camp fire and singing kumbaya. However, not daunted by a little bad press, Dupre called upon volunteers and mercenaries from all corners of Trammel, appealing to the one thing we all hold in common: our shared xenophobia and fear of outsiders, especially the Umbral.
They listen to The Cure.
We raided the Necropolis, leaving it's defenders unprepared and in awe of our mighty awesomeness. With no sign of the kidnapped woman to be found, we began to search the manors and farms of those outside of town, for surely, the rich and powerful would never stoop to such nefarious ends. And lo and behold, we were right! In a field north of town, we discovered a band of thugs and cutpurses. (And no womenfolk.)
“Search for the High Executioner,” Dupre belched. We asked the old knight how we would recognize him. “His name! Search for his name!” (Apparently the Lord Paladin believes names float over peoples heads. What nonsense!)
He would have done better to tell us to search for the Blue Man Group, because he was the one leading this shindig.
I'm seeing a resemblance.
Like any good Frenchman...er, Umbran, the High Executioner rolled over and died, but not before handing out a set of delightfully pink ropes to our strongest. Apparently this Umbral has more fairy in him than Lindae on an acid trip.
When all was said and done, balance was restored to fair Britannia. Dupre got the girl, those dreadful necromancers were put in their place, and somewhere out there, a rares collector is asphyxiating himself with a frilly pink rope.
* This editorial was bought and paid for by WarderDragon for President, 2012.
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