Marco Volo

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Edit: I am considering using this story in the WotC open call for novels. I am leaving this first chapter up, but the rest will have to go down due to potential legal reasons. If you are interested in getting a full copy so you can read and edit it for me, just PM, and I will oblige. Cross your fingers for me!


Here is my latest work. A note, this is not my own story idea. The story is based on a module by Anthony Pryor, available for free download at the Wizards DnD site. If you like it, I've got another two chapters done, so I could post more.


MARCO VOLO
PART 1: Departure


Original adventure by Anthony Pryor, brought into story by Smyther

Chapter 1: Invitation

The six adventurers sat round the blazing hearth, quite happily just relaxing and being content with their latest escapade. A look round the room would show the results of that last jaunt, as the lodge, in which they were staying, was quite opulent.

The walls were hung with thick false animal skins, glistening in the light of the flickering flame. The quality woodwork took on the shades of darkness and the light of fire to give a truly rustic feeling, making the adventurers feel as if they were the only ones within the inn; whereas in reality there were many more – just out of the light and looking jealously at the six that were even then sipping fine wines. There was a posh atmosphere about, making the rough men and women of the fire seem quite out of place.

As for the adventurers themselves, they were quite a colorful lot. Two male fighters, one burly and hulking, the other short and dashing, sat in prominent locations by the fire, so that only their silhouettes were visible. Two more short figures sat in a love seat, hand in hand. Those two were definitely more visible to onlookers, and features could be made out. One was a gnome that looked more like a patchwork quilt on legs than anything else; with bulging pockets that could have contained either intricate thieves tools or the components for spells. The other was a halfling lass, quite fashionably dressed and posturing herself to look the most adorable she could be for her partner. She certainly had all the telltale signs of a mage.

The other two were the farthest back from the fire, and darkness obscured their features so that they were hardly as visible as the two by the fire. Looking closely at them, they were a study in contrasts. One was an elven lady dressed up in the finery that was a paladin’s due. She looked extraordinarily relaxed, sipping her wine with pleasure and looking quite smug about something. The other was a seemingly nervous man, looking anxiously at the door, as if hoping to get outside as soon as possible. He was quite grubby, and looked displeased at the interior decorations – especially the animal skins, even false as they were.

The burly man moved back from the fire, now clasping a large clay mug of foaming ale. He slumped back into an armchair and took a great swig of the ale, the lifting of his arm revealing an enormous studded club. The bartender noticed this with displeasure – weapons were not allowed in the inn. But he knew better than to argue with these adventurers, and especially the one with the club.

They were newly rich, and rapidly rising in fame and popularity among all the people of the city, that jewel of the north, Waterdeep. The bartender looked at the only one left to be obscured, that short fighting man by the fire. Hoping to catch a glimpse of this famous adventurer, he was not disappointed.

Armitage Shanks, for that was the adventurer’s name, moved back from the fire towards a bean-filled bag on the floor in front of the fire. The bartender didn’t truly know whether he liked the dashingly dressed hero, or disliked the conniving salesperson Armitage was. He sighed and returned to wiping the glasses. He would forever regret buying from that one.

Armitage had just settled down on the cushion when the inn’s door swung open. The nervous man, a druid, snapped his head towards the open doorway, but the others paid it no attention. Until the person that had come in made her way towards the gathering and pulled back her hood.

Armitage turned his head away from the fire and gasped at the newcomer’s beauty. While still obscured by shadows, she still managed to have the most radiant and perfect face the specialized salesman had ever seen. She strode forward to the man with his gaping mouth.

She bent down, exposing a slight hint on cleavage to the awestruck man and placed an envelope in his mouth. She snapped his mouth shut, winked, and went back out again, leaving a strange silence that was only broken by the crackling flames.

Whilst Armitage still stared off into space, the burly man leaned forward and thumped the leader’s head, causing the letter to fall out in the process.

“Buck up Arm. She ain’t the only pretty woman in de world.” His husky voice grated bizarrely with the current atmosphere. The gnome quilt then bent forward and picked up the envelope and opened it. He cleared his voice, the cue for the other patrons to pretend to mind their own business.

“Dear Mister Armitage Shanks:” read the gnome Raldoth. “In light of your recent adventuring success and the notoriety you have achieved, you are cordially invited to a gathering of adventurers at Mother Tathlorn’s House of Pleasure and Healing. Festivities begin tomorrow night at sunset. Activities will include feasting, dancing, gaming, and entertainment in a variety of appealing forms. The cost to you is nothing save the pleasure of your presence, and your friendly conversation with various notables from the city of Waterdeep. Please send your response back to me with the messenger. Best wishes, Mother Tathlorn.”

Armitage looked curiously upwards. He had heard of this so-called ‘Adventurer’s Ball,’ and it had intrigued him to know who was coming. The thought that he would be invited to festivities among such people as Khelben Blackstaff, Volothamp Geddarm, and other famous people was startling to him.

“But wait!” Chirped up the halfling wizard. “It said to send answers back with the messenger. The woman left already. Oh! And because it’s addressed to you, does that mean we’re not coming?”

The paladin elf looked up sharply at this. “It better not mean that. I’m certain it would at least extend to me.”

“As for sending it back with the tram- er, woman, the look on old Arm’s face told volumes about what his answer would have been.” The burly man chuckled to himself. “We’ll just have to come too, and if we’re turned away… no problem. I’ll just smash a few heads.” He said the last part in a quiet voice.

“Well, we have a day to prepare, at any rate.” Armitage finally spoke. “A ball tomorrow night! This should be interesting.” The fighter didn’t know how right he was.


The night finally came round, after a long time of discussing plans and situations, and, unfortunately of course, clothes. The six eventually finished up their preparations, waiting in the same fireplace lounge as they had when receiving the letter. Their hired coach was due any minute.

The paladin, Lady Evandele Nailo, was dressed up to the hilt (not literally) in fancy noble’s clothing. Of all of the Company of the Arm, she was the one with most ties in higher places, and she knew how to deck herself out. Full ladies wear complete with elaborate skirt and blouse; she stood the finest of them all. As a unique touch, she had added the symbol of her god Tyr to the front of her shirt.

The short couple, Raldoth and Keriann, were in complementary fine suits. Raldoth’s was more of a patchwork second-hand suit, and Keriann’s was the most fashionable clothing for halflings at the time. It showed off her bounteous curves and accented her blonde hair and golden eyes. Raldoth still managed a fine air about him, in a standard style suit with hints of gnomish design in the seams.

The burly man, Blackjack, and the druid, Tethdas, were wearing their standard adventuring gear. For the druid, that meant earthy robes and a cape, with many pockets for herbs. For the fighter, that meant a loose-fitting burlap-like shirt and grubby pants. He was a thug by nature, trade, and appearance.

Finally, the half-elf himself, Armitage Shanks was dashingly dressed, ready for another encounter with the fair maiden of the previous night. His studded leather armor was underneath his dandified clothing, but his famed trident Kobaldskewer was left up in his room. That thing would be too big to lug around, although Blackjack made concealing his weapon part of his trade.

The coach finally came round, a great gilded thing with ample room for the six. The coach driver hopped down to open the doors and the Company of the Arm got in. They rode in silence for some time, until Tethdas got agitated with the enclosed space and opened up the curtains.

“Ah, that’s much better.” Sighed the druid as the cool air drifted in through the windows into the uncomfortably warm compartment. Armitage then began to think of the place they were going to. Mother Tathlorn’s House of Pleasure and Healing was probably the most famous of Waterdeep’s several festhalls.

The place soon came into view. It was an ornate, five-storied structure, hung with garlands of flowers and greenery for the occasion. The way along Gem Street leading up to the establishment had been lit with torches that provided soft light, reflecting off the towering walls of Castle Waterdeep, which stood nearby.


The six were not the first to arrive. Several parties of well-groomed nobles, resplendent in rich velvets, brocades, and cloth of gold, walked along Gem Street or loitered around the house’s entrance and attended by servants of many races. Armitage recognized the beautiful Loene of the Company of Crazed Venturers, whom he had once attempted to woo.

Blackjack recognized the stern Velkor Minairr, the leader of the Bloodaxe Mercenaries whom he had once sparred with. As well, he knew the rogue Darrstul, a thief in service to the Hunt. The other four, who had not spotted any they knew personally, felt a mixture of annoyance and humility towards the other guests. Whilst the Lady Evandele felt slighted at such insignificant individuals being invited to the same feast, Raldoth felt incredibly humble to have been in such distinguished company.

The coach stopped and the six descended, marshalling their courage, ample in the face of monsters yet minute before nobility, to meet the cream of the crop of Waterdhavian society. They entered the building, where a stout, mature and charming woman greeted them.

“This, my dear companions, is Mother Tathlorn,” Armitage declared as way of introduction.

“Yes, yes dearie,” Mother Tathlorn interrupted. “Come in and welcome. Blackjack, Lady Nailo, Raldoth, Tethdas, and Keriann, what an honor to have you all within! And you, I suppose, Armitage,” she cheekily said. “Come in and partake of all available refreshments!”

They entered the room and began to disperse and mingle with the other guests. The interior, as far as Armitage could tell, was completely redecorated. The bar had been completely removed, and tables had been added to accommodate the crowd. Servants scurried and scuttled here and there, serving the rich and famous.

He looked about for more familiar faces, but was swamped by the sheer muted din of the ongoing conversations. After wandering about for some time, Armitage was eventually approached, and he wished he hadn’t been so hasty.

“Ahhh, Mister Shanks.” Came the oily voice from behind him. “How interesting it is to see you here. Surely your little business wouldn’t warrant an invitation?” Armitage turned round to face one his old customers.

“Oh, it’s not the business that got me here, Hejak.” He coolly replied. “It was honest valor in the field, rescuing damsels from distress and other such things you would know nothing about.”

Hejak nearly snorted his wine out through his nose with laughter. “Honest! Valor! You? Since when did a ‘installable aqueduct’ salesman ever have valor? You? Honest? I’ve seen more honest thieves by the docks!” Several nobles turned round to regard the distastefully loud Hejak before returning to their own polite remarks.

“They’re called toilets. Sooner or later they will catch on, and I’ll make a huge profit. But as for my integrity, question it not. When adventure and justice call, I answer. I can do absolutely anything I set my mind to, and so can my adventuring company. Go crawl back into your slug-hole, Hejak. I’ve better things to do than banter with you.” Armitage did not notice, but his bold proclamations brought the interested corner of a noble eye towards him.

“You will never be anything more than a dealer in filth, Shanks. I leave you and your ‘Company of the Arm’ to their petty socializing.” The man stalked off. Armitage snorted and headed for the snack table, where he was intercepted by another old acquaintance.

“Ah, my dear Armitage. How do you do?” The jovial voice of one Vahn Fletcher was a welcome relief for the warrior.

“Blooming, Vahn. I see you haven’t changed too much, just a little around the middle,” he replied good-naturedly, poking the man’s tubby belly.

“Ha, ha! That I have, but it hasn’t stopped the ladies. Say, Arm, I’ve heard rumors that you’ve been out in the field recently. Something about lost kobold treasure.”

“That’s right. Though those smelly rats don’t normally have much gold on them, my company and I happened upon them whilst searching for a missing maiden. Turned out the kobolds were in cahoots with the half-orc kidnappers and had amassed a pretty penny for themselves. Quite an interesting little venture.”

“Sounds interesting, but hardly a challenge.”

“Well, don’t tell anybody this, but… there was a little more there than kobolds and half-orcs. There was a young black dragon there controlling them. Trying to make a name for itself, I imagine. No that was a tough battle.”

“Why wouldn’t you want anybody to know? By my knowledge of you, I’d think you’d be bragging about till the moon went down.”

“I would, but I’m not interested in having an adult black dragon hunting me down for killing one of her children, would you?”

Vahn nodded knowingly. “Of course, I see your point. Maybe you are a little wiser than I had thought. And stronger too. Ho, hum, but I must be off. Can’t spend the night with just one person, unless it’s a special lady.” Vahn smiled and ambled off, leaving Armitage quite glad how his little lie had worked. It would never do for it to get out that he had actually merely smashed the egg of a black dragon found in the kobolds’ belongings.

He finally made it to the snack table and began to munch down on gourmet delicacies with abandon. However, he stopped when he noticed the bemused gaze of the messenger girl. Quickly stuffing the half-eaten miniature sausage in his mouth, he made his way over to make a move.

He was stopped when he saw the company the woman was in. Hanging on to the arm of the vision of a goddess was a foppishly dressed dandy clutching a lute in his other arm. The lady smiled and waved at Armitage before picking up a bowl of caviar and wandering off with the foolish looking man by her side.

Armitage was heartbroken. All his imaginings about the woman came crashing down. She was with someone else; she liked fish eggs, and had absolutely terrible taste in men. He sighed and went to sit down at a smaller table, where Lady Evandele promptly joined him.

“Enjoying the festivities, Armitage?” She asked casually. He sighed and made no returning comment. “Ah, the famed ‘I’ve lost a woman’ sigh. How often I’ve heard of it.” The paladin paused to take a sip from her wineglass. “So who was she? Prettier than I, I imagine, or you wouldn’t be after her.”

“The lady from last night.” He mumbled in reply.

“Well, I guess you have some taste then.” She stated calmly. Just then a bell rang out and Mother Tathlorn stepped out into the parting crowd.

“Greetings once again, distinguished guests. I apologize for interrupting your socializing, but I have left the feast as late as it could go. Please, find a seat and food will be served shortly.” She left to a smattering of applause, though what it was for Armitage did not know.

The crowd began to thin as tables were filled, and the rest of the Company of the Arm found their ways to the table. The two short ones were chatting happily away together, whilst Blackjack and Tethdas made their farewells to their respective acquaintances. All were seated when the jaunty individual that had been with the messenger woman approached; the only one left without a seat. Armitage wearily looked at the open chair next to him at their table for seven.

Away from his girl, he was tall and spare, moving with the grace of an acrobat. Keriann looked at him somewhat approvingly, drawing an elbowing from a snickering Raldoth. Armitage didn’t know what she liked, as the man was dressed in fanciful doublet and hose, with his lute on his back and a now visible poignard at his side. He didn’t know whether he was a nobleman or a fellow adventurer, until he spoke.

“Hail, fellows!” He declared, bowing elaborately. “Marco Volo, bard and traveler, at your service. I’m afraid all the seats at the other tables are taken. Mind if I join you? Thanks so much.”

Before Armitage could respond, Marco seated himself at their table. Blackjack began to rise to eject the impetuous intruder, but a calm hand from Evandele and a whisper of how Mother Tathlorn would be displeased at such brawling; he sat back down, glowering.

“So how do you all do?” He asked bouncily, and not waiting for an answer he went on. “Quite fine, myself. Love this ball, but it’s not nearly as good as the one I went to with the Pashas of Calimport that one time. That was a dream come true, with the ladies I wooed and the food I sampled. How about you, druid? Been to any good balls lately?”

Tethdas looked startled at being singled out, and that this fop could tell he was a druid. “Well actually, there was a nice one a while back –”

“Oh, I’m sure we don’t want to hear about that,” Marco interrupted. “But how about the food they have here? Pittance compared to the feasts I went to at the court of King Azoun. There was a man that knew how to feed his guests! And these decorations, I’m sure they’re splendid enough for the common rabble here, but at Castle Neverwinter, Lord Nasher himself did up the rooms in the most fantastic designs you could ever hope to see. Outshone the Lady Aribeth at being in a festive mood, he did!”

“Oh, would you bloody well pipe down!” Snarled Blackjack. Marco gulped and sat further down in his seat for a minute, but soon he was back chattering away again.

“So, have you heard the latest on Shadowdale? The bard herself there, Storm, was singing one of my songs! Oh, she did well enough, but it was only one of my lesser-known ballads. Did you know that my composition, Ode to a Block of Blue Cheese, was sung in the court of the Simbul? Extraordinary taste, that woman. Ah! The dinner finally arrives! This waiting reminds of me of the time I went to sea off to Maztica…” He droned on and on as the food began to be borne out of the kitchens.

The six adventurers paid no heed to the prattling bard, instead sampling the various roast meats, exotic cheeses, unusual vegetables, and the many different types of alcohol. Raldoth even broke out some of his tobacco and began to smoke a pipe, having first offering to share with the disgusted companions.

“It’ll be the death of you some day,” nagged Keriann, “but at least with a pipe it doesn’t foul the taste of your mouth.” She giggled and kissed the gnome on the cheek.

“Ah, my friend gnome, you haven’t had tobacco until you’ve smoked the weeds of Thay! There’s a place where you can truly relax with a pipe…” Marco came on to the subject and just as quickly got sidetracked onto another one. Armitage was beginning to get thoroughly disgusted with the bard’s unflappable exuberance.

Marco took a long swig of wine from a golden goblet and picked up his lute. “Oh, my friends, this is a grand night, is it not?” He said, completely forgetting his earlier derogatory comparisons about the festivities. “I must share my latest work with you. It’s called The Glorious Death of Sir Trolivus.”

“Excuse me bard,” snarled Evandele, “but I knew Sir Trolivus, and his death was anything but glorious. The bastard fell from grace and ended in the pot of troglodytes.”

Taking no notice of her comments, he strummed on his lute and launched into song. “Sir Trolivus was a noble bold
“Of him were many stories bold,
“He was brave as the knights of old,
“His exploits brought him lost of gold.”

“Damn right his exploits brought gold – and little else.” Muttered Evandele. But her mutterings were masked by the noises of distaste the other guests were making. The song and its singer were truly awful. Raldoth looked slightly green over the bad singing. But the companions and the other guests were spared the continuation of the song by the arrival of the watch.

Marco broke off with a squawk and looked at them with wide eyes. Armitage turned his head to watch the squad of city watchmen approach, clubs at the ready. They began to look around, drawing the gazes of the other guests. One pointed at the table the companions were sitting at.

“There he is! You! You’re under arrest in the name of the Lords of Waterdeep!” Armitage jumped as he thought that the guards were calling to him, but realized his error when Marco leapt up on to the table. He launched his lute through the air to smash over the head of the lead watchman and then bounded to the floor.

“Delay them while I escape, friends!” He shouted over his shoulder to the company. “I’ll be back for you!” He leaped for a door. Armitage frankly had no idea what the man was talking about, but a shake from Blackjack made him realize the ruse the clever bard had just planted. The sound of a crash shook him out of his thoughts as he saw Marco stagger across the floor, trailing the shards of pottery from the vase he had landed on. The entire focus of the assembled group was now on Marco and the table of the companions.

The guards rushed forward towards the group, forcing them to stand up quickly, overturning the table. At this, all the other people surged up and onto the ballroom floor, beginning a mass fray of epic proportions.

Marco began to seek a way out that wasn’t the now blocked door, running round in circles and leading the guards on. Several adventurers moved to assist in the capture, whilst others gave a hand in helping the excited bard escape. Still others moved towards the Company of the Arm, drawing steel and uncovering spellbooks. More people just took the opportunity for a brawl and went at it with their neighbors.

The nobles stood off to the side, having a great time; just making sure their drinks didn’t spill.

“I say Johk, I’ll bet you ten gold those two barbarians over there will take down that wizard!”

“You’re on, Usader! They don’t stand a chance against magic.”

“Go on Redlar! Beat the stuffing out of that rogue!”

“Boo! No fair! Detrius, you can’t use a move like that!”

“Show them a taste of natures power! Come on Zander!”

The nobles continued to place bets and encourage or discourage the combatants. Meanwhile, a wizard managed to get off a sonic spell, sending waves of disruption throughout the crowd and revealing some disguised guests for who they were.

Armitage dodged the blade of a bulky fighter, swinging out with his fist to catch the unarmored man in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of the man, and Armitage turned to defend himself from the next person intent on his displeasure.

Raldoth darted into the shadows and stabbed out at the nearest person, neatly dropping the human to one knee. He quickly cast a spell of holding while the woman was vulnerable, disabling her for the rest of the fight. Then, in rapid succession, he cast out a spell of sleep, sending several combatants into magical slumber, then a spell that coated a small area with slippery ice, and finally a spell that sent a couple of magic missiles spinning out to break the concentration of a rival mage. He ducked a blow from a monk’s fist and disappeared behind a curtain, glugged down a potion of invisibility, and then proceeded to cast more disabling spells and illusions.

Keriann was having the time of her life, matching spell for spell with what must have been the only other halfling mage for miles. The enemy cast out a spear of white light, which she neatly deflected with a counterspell of her own. She then cast out an acidic arrow which finally pierced the other’s magical defenses. Whilst the mage was preoccupied shedding the melting clothing, Keriann dashed off to cast a small fireball over the heads of a thick mob of combatants. Many screamed and ducked, whilst others got caught by some of the fiery fallout.

Blackjack finally had a reason to use what had earned him his nickname. His huge club was of little use in the packed area, and too damaging, despite the demands of the secret cult he belonged to. So he drew his blackjack, a small lead-filled sack that he used to great effect knocking people unconscious. He wouldn’t kill anyway, as that would gain him prison time. He sacked a few more people, until he came face to face with one of his old rivals. There was no time for words, just a quick smash across the face of the enemy and to turn on to the next.

Lady Nailo drew out her powerful longsword, a dragonslayer, which in an ironic twist had been Armitage’s weapon when smashing the dragon egg. She whirled it round and round, clearing a circle of people around her before she saw what she wanted. The sonic spell had disrupted the disguise of an uninvited half-dragon. She rushed forward, calling Tyr’s name as she slashed at the beast. It staggered backwards and recovered enough to rake her across her light dress, exposing some inoffensive flesh, but it angered Evandele all the same. She thrust forward, letting the enchantments of the sword pierce the flesh of the enemy. It fell to the floor, clutching the flowing green blood from its side. A slash across her arm brought her away from the half-dragon and into a battle with a miscreant from the docks.

Tethdas tried to stay out of the battle as much as he could, but eventually he was forced to fight. He slung off a few hold spells, stopping a few advancing opponents in their tracks. He noticed the increasing intensity of the battle beyond him, and decided to pay later for the damages he was about to inflict upon the building. He called upon his goddess Eldoth for a spell not normally granted by the goddess of the waters, but it was granted just the same. Vines erupted up through the wooden planked floor, twisting and turning and ensnaring all the people within the spell’s range. The vines grew and held the arms and legs of the people in place, effectively holding them to their places. But there were still areas where the fight raged on.

Armitage was in one of the areas that had escaped the spell’s effect. He knocked his latest opponent out and turned to face his old rival, Hejak. Hejak grinned and drew a rapier that he menaced toward Armitage. Arm jumped back, though he highly doubted Hejak knew how to wield the weapon properly. He brought his fists together and swung out for his old foe, but Hejak dodged it and jabbed the rapier outwards, piercing Arm’s arm. He did know how to use it.
Before he could recover, the rapier went straight for his heart – Hejak was obviously not caring about the penalties of killing. But the studded leather beneath Armitage’s shirt stopped the unenchanted blade, for which he quickly thanked the goddess Tymora he had decided to wear. He swung back at the greasy man and managed to land a blow on the opponent’s elbow, forcing him to drop the rapier. Armitage quickly snatched it up and held it point-first towards Hejak.

But he was stopped from striking his foe by a hand that grabbed the side of the rounded weapon. Armitage turned to see the stern face of the city watch civilar Lusker. He lowered his weapon and submitted, as an armar named Sydar took custody of Hejak. Two more guards came up to report to the guard captain, each holding a person captive. Armitage recognized both the captives, one being a small thief named Dorn that belonged to a group of criminals called Mane’s Band, and the other a fuming Shasslan Timtrane, the leader of the adventurers called the Hunt who had evidently been relieved of her flaming sword.

“The woman was caught seriously wounding a druid opponent, sir.” One of the guards said. “And the other was lifting purses so rapidly you’d think it was magic.”

“Good work men. These two will also go into custody. The short man is the one who started the brawl and the other is already wanted for crimes of fraud. See if you can gather the short one’s companions so they can be brought in for questioning as well. Pity Wands escaped.” Armitage had no idea who ‘Wands’ was, but he certainly needed his party with him for support.

[ December 24, 2004, 06:18: Message edited by: Smyther ]

 

Nice.

If you don't mind a small tip, rather than saying:

it is more elegant to avoid the hanging preposition and say something like:

"..as the inn, in which they were staying, was quite opulent."

Alternatively, it might sound better to say:

".. if the opulence of the inn in which they were staying was anything to by."

Picky point, I know, but it is little things like that give a solid story a real polish. Although in this case you might want to find a synonym for "inn" so that you don't get stuck with "inn" and "in" so close together in the same sentence.....

 

Hmm... interesting, albeit a touch confusing.
Please do post more, as the CS desperately needs new writers and stories...
Keep it up

 

Smyther, would you mind putting spaces every few lines, it's funky on the eyes if you don't, and a lot more people on the Boards will tak the time to read it.

 

Edited out.

[ December 24, 2004, 06:19: Message edited by: Smyther ]

 

I don't get the joke, but this is a really great story.

 

Yeah, this is nice... I don't get it either tho'
Anyhow, keep it up

 

I get it. Armitage Shanks is written all over your taps and toilets. I was pissing myself laughing when I first read that .

 

Edited out.

[ December 24, 2004, 06:19: Message edited by: Smyther ]

 

Keep up the good work.

 

Yes! Still wonderful, the fighting is once again superbly phrased, the plot is thickening... I can't wait till the next chapter comes out... I'm putting this one on E-mail notification and am thrilled to see such quality again.
My congratulations, you have an admirable talent.
*does a silly yet happy dance*

 

I'm finished the first draft of chapter 4, but I'm looking for some more input first. You've been very supportive, but what would you like to see next? What don't you want to see? I have the storyline set out for me by the published module, but anything would be welcome. I still have... oh... around nine more installments after ch 4. So there's alot of room for manueverability. Tell me what you think.

 

I would like some more innuendo. There was some, but more is better. And also a little more focus on the familiars, and the happy little couple.

 

Edited out.

[ December 24, 2004, 06:20: Message edited by: Smyther ]

 

Marco seems a little smarter then we had first been led to believe.

But can you stop switching between Marco and Marcus? It is terribly distracting.

 

Edited out.

[ December 24, 2004, 06:21: Message edited by: Smyther ]

 

I am no druid, but that can't be healed can it?

 

Edited out.

[ December 24, 2004, 06:21: Message edited by: Smyther ]

 

Now I wonder. Are the baddies after the wand, or Marcus? I would guess Marcus now, but who would want to kill him that badly, and why?

Oh yeah, good story. More soon. And love the descriptive battles.

 

Edited out.

[ December 24, 2004, 06:22: Message edited by: Smyther ]