((Authors' Note: This thread follows "The Clock is Ticking". The following was written collaboratively by Renna's and Howe's Players. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did playing it!))
Prelude:
Howe had a good evening at Dickie's Dirk and Dagger; his meetings went smoothly and everything seemed to be going his way. His vengeance was lining up just as he anticipated and it brought a smile to thin, cruel lips. In his eyes, he'd made it; he truly had become the Black King facing down Corwyn's White. Howe was in an excellent mood. He wanted to crow and cackle. He wanted to rub it in the faces of all his enemies, whether in Rhy"Din or not. Where better to do that than the well-known Red Dragon Inn " a place he knows they will all be watching.
He never anticipated running into Lucy Ravenlock, nor did he dream it would land him smack dab in the thick of it with Renna, Lucy's wayward, (if stunningly beautiful), mother.
What was meant to be a triumphant "in-your-face" flaunt turned into a twisted kidnapping. Howe found himself caught up in a web of the unknown in a dimension unfamiliar. The pride that brought him to the inn could well mean the end of him.
Part I
Welcome to her own personal hell, where she controlled the four corners of its reality.
It was a dark and strange place where no wind blew, where no noise was made out of trepidation, and where the only welcoming sensation would be the warmth that the scorched black land appeared to radiate.
The land was suspended over a vast darkness, shattered and broken, all linked by precarious looking wooden bridges that appear to have seen many thousands of years of use, but yet still somehow manage to hold together despite its age far beyond that of the archaic.
Each landmass was big enough to hold a small town, but all looked eerily similar with its dead trees, blackened earth, and jagged rocky outcrops. So, it was no wonder the lost souls that had the misfortune to wander these island wastelands found themselves doubling back, thinking they had gone around in circles.
These strange, floating islands, however similar to one another, were all leading towards an epicenter of power " towards an aura so strong and so twisted that it could send chills through the hardiest of heroes, and stubborn of villains, for in the distance, a gigantic monolith of darkness sat.
This mysterious tower " the apparent root of this hellish place, appeared to have a life of its own as it slowly rotated upon its spot, pulsing with the rhythm of an unheard heartbeat. No matter how many floating lands were trodden upon to get to it, no matter how many bridges were crossed, it never got any closer.
This labyrinth " this limbo of madness, did not come without its inhabitants.
For during the terrifying silence, often, a soft whisper " or a scowling snarl would suddenly appear " and out of the corner of the eye, just beyond sight and mind but just close enough to glimpse, is always the shadow of some hulking, shadowy beast that simply vanished when fully regarded.
Howe " stolen from the Inn by none other than Renna herself, was quite rudely deposited on one of the islands from a portal of azure quite some distance above the ground. The portal screamed open with swirling, infernal energies, and simply spat the lawyer out like a sickly treat with an overdeveloped and perhaps, over matured taste.
'Welcome to limbo.' The land itself seemed to whisper. Where the pit below was black and the sky above was as dark as the ground. Set against the shadowy canvas a single, gigantic disembodied blood red eye writhed about in search for something.
Howe was livid; anger contorted his face nearly to the point of revealing his true nature. He'd lost his footing when he was so rudely dropped, leaving him flat on his back against the hot blackened ground. Howe stood, brushing at his tailored suit in short, harsh swipes, intent on demonstrating just how furious he was.
"What in the Hell"!" He snapped as he turned to glower at the fear-inspiring nightmare surrounding him. "Who the fuck do you think you are"! You have no idea who you are dealing with!"
Howe knows his weaknesses, he knows his strengths, but he has a devastating disadvantage; he's overconfident. For him he had already decided to treat this moment as any other he's been challenged by. Beefy body straightened and broad shoulders squared as if he were preparing for a battle. He lifted a fist to the eye filling the darkened sky and shook it hard; projecting all the outrage he could possibly muster into that gesture.
"This is no way to treat your guests! I demand more appropriate, civilized encounters!"
Feeling as if he had made himself clear to his Host, Howe smiled coldly busily thinking out how he might turn this situation to his advantage. Truth is someone of this magnitude of power could be useful to his cause. Perhaps yelling and throwing a temper tantrum wasn't the best way to win them over. Instead, Howe took a new tactic. Master of many tricks he waved his hand summoning a chair and table, all very civilized and decorous. Atop the table appeared a decanter of wine, two glasses and an oversized ashtray. With an air of indignation Howe tugged his suit straight before taking a seat in one of the wing-backed chairs. His face was smudged, his clothing soiled and yet his arrogance remained untouched.
"A gracious host would join their guest in a glass of wine." Howe picked up the decanter and began filling each glass.
The angry discontent of the victim turned 'guest' had left the eye above quite impasse, even when the guest had gone to shaking his fist right up at it.
It was in fact looking for something of far greater interest, but it was not without noticing the alteration to the reality that this unholy place was based upon. The eye did though finally turn towards him as he sat and offered his invitation.
The eye looked at him, unblinkingly, and barely budged from its eternal entrapment up on high.
But something else did answer his call.
"I wouldn't sit there,? came a child's voice from somewhere behind him.
To be continued...
Prelude:
Howe had a good evening at Dickie's Dirk and Dagger; his meetings went smoothly and everything seemed to be going his way. His vengeance was lining up just as he anticipated and it brought a smile to thin, cruel lips. In his eyes, he'd made it; he truly had become the Black King facing down Corwyn's White. Howe was in an excellent mood. He wanted to crow and cackle. He wanted to rub it in the faces of all his enemies, whether in Rhy"Din or not. Where better to do that than the well-known Red Dragon Inn " a place he knows they will all be watching.
He never anticipated running into Lucy Ravenlock, nor did he dream it would land him smack dab in the thick of it with Renna, Lucy's wayward, (if stunningly beautiful), mother.
What was meant to be a triumphant "in-your-face" flaunt turned into a twisted kidnapping. Howe found himself caught up in a web of the unknown in a dimension unfamiliar. The pride that brought him to the inn could well mean the end of him.
Part I
Welcome to her own personal hell, where she controlled the four corners of its reality.
It was a dark and strange place where no wind blew, where no noise was made out of trepidation, and where the only welcoming sensation would be the warmth that the scorched black land appeared to radiate.
The land was suspended over a vast darkness, shattered and broken, all linked by precarious looking wooden bridges that appear to have seen many thousands of years of use, but yet still somehow manage to hold together despite its age far beyond that of the archaic.
Each landmass was big enough to hold a small town, but all looked eerily similar with its dead trees, blackened earth, and jagged rocky outcrops. So, it was no wonder the lost souls that had the misfortune to wander these island wastelands found themselves doubling back, thinking they had gone around in circles.
These strange, floating islands, however similar to one another, were all leading towards an epicenter of power " towards an aura so strong and so twisted that it could send chills through the hardiest of heroes, and stubborn of villains, for in the distance, a gigantic monolith of darkness sat.
This mysterious tower " the apparent root of this hellish place, appeared to have a life of its own as it slowly rotated upon its spot, pulsing with the rhythm of an unheard heartbeat. No matter how many floating lands were trodden upon to get to it, no matter how many bridges were crossed, it never got any closer.
This labyrinth " this limbo of madness, did not come without its inhabitants.
For during the terrifying silence, often, a soft whisper " or a scowling snarl would suddenly appear " and out of the corner of the eye, just beyond sight and mind but just close enough to glimpse, is always the shadow of some hulking, shadowy beast that simply vanished when fully regarded.
Howe " stolen from the Inn by none other than Renna herself, was quite rudely deposited on one of the islands from a portal of azure quite some distance above the ground. The portal screamed open with swirling, infernal energies, and simply spat the lawyer out like a sickly treat with an overdeveloped and perhaps, over matured taste.
'Welcome to limbo.' The land itself seemed to whisper. Where the pit below was black and the sky above was as dark as the ground. Set against the shadowy canvas a single, gigantic disembodied blood red eye writhed about in search for something.
Howe was livid; anger contorted his face nearly to the point of revealing his true nature. He'd lost his footing when he was so rudely dropped, leaving him flat on his back against the hot blackened ground. Howe stood, brushing at his tailored suit in short, harsh swipes, intent on demonstrating just how furious he was.
"What in the Hell"!" He snapped as he turned to glower at the fear-inspiring nightmare surrounding him. "Who the fuck do you think you are"! You have no idea who you are dealing with!"
Howe knows his weaknesses, he knows his strengths, but he has a devastating disadvantage; he's overconfident. For him he had already decided to treat this moment as any other he's been challenged by. Beefy body straightened and broad shoulders squared as if he were preparing for a battle. He lifted a fist to the eye filling the darkened sky and shook it hard; projecting all the outrage he could possibly muster into that gesture.
"This is no way to treat your guests! I demand more appropriate, civilized encounters!"
Feeling as if he had made himself clear to his Host, Howe smiled coldly busily thinking out how he might turn this situation to his advantage. Truth is someone of this magnitude of power could be useful to his cause. Perhaps yelling and throwing a temper tantrum wasn't the best way to win them over. Instead, Howe took a new tactic. Master of many tricks he waved his hand summoning a chair and table, all very civilized and decorous. Atop the table appeared a decanter of wine, two glasses and an oversized ashtray. With an air of indignation Howe tugged his suit straight before taking a seat in one of the wing-backed chairs. His face was smudged, his clothing soiled and yet his arrogance remained untouched.
"A gracious host would join their guest in a glass of wine." Howe picked up the decanter and began filling each glass.
The angry discontent of the victim turned 'guest' had left the eye above quite impasse, even when the guest had gone to shaking his fist right up at it.
It was in fact looking for something of far greater interest, but it was not without noticing the alteration to the reality that this unholy place was based upon. The eye did though finally turn towards him as he sat and offered his invitation.
The eye looked at him, unblinkingly, and barely budged from its eternal entrapment up on high.
But something else did answer his call.
"I wouldn't sit there,? came a child's voice from somewhere behind him.
To be continued...