Life in Temple Valley
True to Rothaide’s vision, Temple Valley was a collection of sprawling huts and tents. The dirt track roads and tarps were as accurate as the elven void disciple has described them to be. It was a little past noon when the party, clothed in travel gear and appearing to be travel worn - reached what seemed to be the merchant district of the valley.
The survivors of Temple Valley – those who chose to remain – are exhausted and in the grips of the plague. Most of them appear to be dragonshard miners too stubborn to leave. They are sprawled in the shade of doorways, watching the party with lean, hungry looks and white-encrusted eyes. Rothaide whimpers as seeing this reminds her of her crewmembers back in her old ship. Were they healthy, they might have been dangerous. Now, they don’t look like they have the energy to make trouble.
The group slowly makes its way along the road, keeping to and talking quietly among themselves as to which structure they should head to. It was then that a muscular man leaps from the shadow of a decrepit hut, his veins resembling horrible, black spider webs. His face is twisted in rage as he pulls on Rothaide’s leg.
“You!” he bellows, spittle flying from his snarling lips. “You have some! I can smell it on you! Give me the spice! Give it to me now!”
Not waiting for a reply, the huge man pulls a short baton out of his belt and lunges forward.
The survivors of Temple Valley – those who chose to remain – are exhausted and in the grips of the plague. Most of them appear to be dragonshard miners too stubborn to leave. They are sprawled in the shade of doorways, watching the party with lean, hungry looks and white-encrusted eyes. Rothaide whimpers as seeing this reminds her of her crewmembers back in her old ship. Were they healthy, they might have been dangerous. Now, they don’t look like they have the energy to make trouble.
The group slowly makes its way along the road, keeping to and talking quietly among themselves as to which structure they should head to. It was then that a muscular man leaps from the shadow of a decrepit hut, his veins resembling horrible, black spider webs. His face is twisted in rage as he pulls on Rothaide’s leg.
“You!” he bellows, spittle flying from his snarling lips. “You have some! I can smell it on you! Give me the spice! Give it to me now!”
Not waiting for a reply, the huge man pulls a short baton out of his belt and lunges forward.
This entry was posted
on 20070930 at 14:17.
You can skip to the end and leave a response.
3 Comments:
Rourke has initiative:
Devlin = 11 + 2 =13
Rothaide = 3 = 3
Rourke = 18 + 3 = 21
Urfo = 7 + 2 + 4 = 13
btw, have we been injected with the antibiotic serum or something that would protect us from the plague?
Yup. I would assume five of the ten vials have been used for the crew. The remaining five are with Rothaide.
Post a Comment