Where we are
In the prologue to the first story, a group of particularly unlucky slaves of one of the most despised ethnic groups on the continent were working at back breaking unskilled labor in the despoiled tombs of a nation of money-lending wizards. Unnatural weather presaged the arrival of a particularly nasty group of desert dwelling death cultists, who proceeding to herd the rapidly diminishing group of survivors into a recently re-opened tomb. There, a magical chalice in a room full of skeletons promised immortal life to the first person to drink from it. As it happens, only two people in the room apparently spoke the dialect the chalice was using, and the linguist from the group of slaves decided that the offer was just too dodgy, leaving the leader of the necromantic dervishes free to accept. He did so, and the last thing of the slaves see in this life is their skeletons exploding outwards from their bodies while their viscera catch fire and crackle merrily away.
Not to worry. As the men with funny voices say, “they got better”.
In the prologue to the second story, the apparently resurrected slaves having made their way to the center of a vast labyrinth dotted with catacombs and tunnels that seem to stray into the underworld , wander into lands outside both time and death (or Time, and Death, if you prefer). There they meet a beautiful yet entirely unhuman goddess with a penchant for cutting implements, and the pre-human race of three eyed sword-crazed and honor bound nobles that still serve her. Half of the group become decent swordsmen after spending a mere few hours (or was it? See above) in their presence. Several of the slaves abruptly become religious (don’t worry, it won’t last), and a very few, stubbornly individualistic, receive other, more esoteric boons.
In the prologue to the third story, the slaves, having temporarily set aside their quest to venture northward to one of the most extensive (and extensively protected) ancient libraries in world have succeeded in avenging the butchery of some of the most decent (non-people) people the slaves have yet encountered. Along the way, and in the aftermath, they’ve discovered a few more things about themselves. The “don’t worry, you won’t even need to eat unless you’re wounded” guidance that they had received had only been mildly worrying to a few, but once they realized that this entirely left out WHAT they would need to eat, tensions escalated. Likewise, tensions have reached a fine pitch by the time they finally discovered the answer to that conundrum through the scientific method.
Most seem entirely glum at the prospect of practically endless supply of tasty healing potions I've placed in the story (the more combat encounters they have, practically the more healing that is available!). Their once terribly scrawny bodies are admittedly a bit slimmer now (gaunt, even), but they seem to bustle with newfound vigor, and that unhealthy jaundice that poor nutrition brings has resolved itself into a quite fetching by moonlight pallor! If their eyes are a bit bloodshot, surely that’s a result of victory celebrations (and it's totally unnoticeable on one of the slaves, due to the shadows obscuring his eyes and features, day and night).
One thing seems certain, though; the thickening and darkening nails on their hands are a bit unseemly. Still, gloves are cheap. Let’s see how much worse off they’ll be by the time we get to the prologue to the FOURTH adventure. I bet it’ll be hilarious.
Oh, hells. I completely left out the bit about the entirely uncertain outcome of the none, some, or most of the slaves independently bargaining with a devil bound in brass and silver, and hiding it from each other. Although I suppose if it was "none", there isn't really anything to leave out.
Not to worry. As the men with funny voices say, “they got better”.
In the prologue to the second story, the apparently resurrected slaves having made their way to the center of a vast labyrinth dotted with catacombs and tunnels that seem to stray into the underworld , wander into lands outside both time and death (or Time, and Death, if you prefer). There they meet a beautiful yet entirely unhuman goddess with a penchant for cutting implements, and the pre-human race of three eyed sword-crazed and honor bound nobles that still serve her. Half of the group become decent swordsmen after spending a mere few hours (or was it? See above) in their presence. Several of the slaves abruptly become religious (don’t worry, it won’t last), and a very few, stubbornly individualistic, receive other, more esoteric boons.
In the prologue to the third story, the slaves, having temporarily set aside their quest to venture northward to one of the most extensive (and extensively protected) ancient libraries in world have succeeded in avenging the butchery of some of the most decent (non-people) people the slaves have yet encountered. Along the way, and in the aftermath, they’ve discovered a few more things about themselves. The “don’t worry, you won’t even need to eat unless you’re wounded” guidance that they had received had only been mildly worrying to a few, but once they realized that this entirely left out WHAT they would need to eat, tensions escalated. Likewise, tensions have reached a fine pitch by the time they finally discovered the answer to that conundrum through the scientific method.
Most seem entirely glum at the prospect of practically endless supply of tasty healing potions I've placed in the story (the more combat encounters they have, practically the more healing that is available!). Their once terribly scrawny bodies are admittedly a bit slimmer now (gaunt, even), but they seem to bustle with newfound vigor, and that unhealthy jaundice that poor nutrition brings has resolved itself into a quite fetching by moonlight pallor! If their eyes are a bit bloodshot, surely that’s a result of victory celebrations (and it's totally unnoticeable on one of the slaves, due to the shadows obscuring his eyes and features, day and night).
One thing seems certain, though; the thickening and darkening nails on their hands are a bit unseemly. Still, gloves are cheap. Let’s see how much worse off they’ll be by the time we get to the prologue to the FOURTH adventure. I bet it’ll be hilarious.
Oh, hells. I completely left out the bit about the entirely uncertain outcome of the none, some, or most of the slaves independently bargaining with a devil bound in brass and silver, and hiding it from each other. Although I suppose if it was "none", there isn't really anything to leave out.