RPG - new session
Posted: Mon Jan 18, 2021 10:42 am
Janick woke up abruptly. Streaks of sweat on his burning forehead indicated that it was not a peaceful night once again. Which time has he been plagued by the same nightmare? The boy, knowing that he would not fall asleep, sat down on the bed.
“I'm 14 years old - I've had the same nightmare for the last 3 years. Night after night I am in some terrible battle. It does not look like in the stories of my grandfather - there are no knights in fighting armor and disgusting, filled with fear of the impending end of their miserable orcs' lives. There is nothing in it of the overheard atmosphere of a solemn event and the subsequent glory for the winners, which by some strange coincidence in my grandfather's stories were always the forces of good. In my grandfather's stories, the battle seems to be a solemn, cleansing event, after which the bad guys always run away in panic. In my dream, the battle is completely different. On both sides there are representatives of all races - dwarves, elves, humans, but also goblins, orcs, and trolls. The scarlet sky, torn by lightning, emphasizes the unnatural nature of the whole situation. After some time, as if at some silent signal, both armies hit each other. The faces of the warriors express only one feeling - hatred. Kill, destroy, annihilate the enemy at all costs. There is no honor, glory or righteousness. There is only a fight to the death.
The first ranks clashed with each other. A terrible scream rose over the battlefield. This scream foreshadows the terrible harvest that death will reap today. Only now do I notice that the two armies differ in one detail. One of the armies on the armor has a snake's head painted in red, the other one has blue paint. The "blue" squad of dwarves broke into the ranks of human archers. It's hard to see the movement of the short, stocky, ax-wielding dwarven hands - everything happens so fast. The only evidence of the effectiveness of their attack is the body parts falling onto the grass soggy with rain. Suddenly a blinding flash. The dwarven commander looks at his unit in amazement, watching the spark of life fade in the eyes of his companions. He looks reproachfully at the sky and, praying, falls to the ground - the burned bodies of his companions fall to the battlefield to the accompaniment of the mocking laughter of the "red" elven wizard. It does not last long, however - it suddenly breaks off with a loud rattling sound. A blue arrow pierces the wizard's throat.
More fights, more minutes of killing. There are no wounded on the battlefield - they are immediately finished off as if some force did not wish for the triumph of life over death. It was to be a one-sided victory for the grim reaper. The stench hovering above the battlefield is unbearable - a mixture of blood, excrement, sweat, ozone, slowly decomposing corpses. The survivors, however, do not feel it - they have only one goal - to destroy the enemy from the face of the earth.
The last two branches are fighting with each other. Human swords, crisscrossing dwarven axes, elven and goblin arrows wreak havoc on opposing ranks, red and blue wizards casting and disabling their most terrible spells. Every second brings death, the ranks thinner. Two of them remain. A red man wielding two hand-and-a-half swords and a blue elf with a katana and a short sword. They both look at each other, panting heavily. They look around and see piles, a veritable sea of corpses, limbs, abandoned weapons. They know that this is the end - that there is only one opponent in their way, who can be killed for the sake of their own preservation. A flash in the eye and the singing of the blade. Parade. Half-turn. Crockery. Blood drops from a severed arm. Feint. Riposte. Another endless combat cutting and blood mixing in close quarters. A moment of hesitation ... end of the duel. The man falls down with his head bowed to his knees. Raindrops drip from his hair and soak into the studded jacket of the dead elf lying in front of him. A man raises his head, sticking his unseeing eyes into the void. At this point, she feels like she is becoming him. Enormous pain spreading from the base of the skull to all limbs, the smell of ozone, a blinding flash and then darkness.
I wake up in my bed. I play the same battle every day. Every day with the same result. I didn't tell my grandfather about it because he'd think I'm crazy. I have to cool my hot head somehow. I think that if I leave my house for a while, nothing will happen - we live in a remote area. It is true that my grandfather told me to stay at home and wait until his return, but he will not find out - he will be back in 3 days at the earliest. Where would I go? It's too noisy over the waterfall - he needs some quiet, peaceful place to gather his thoughts. Yes - this clearing definitely works. "
Smiling to himself, Janick put on a warm sheepskin caftan and walked towards the clearing where he often heard his grandfather's stories. He wore no weapon - his grandfather scolded him for making himself a wooden sword. He explained to Janick that he did not want any weapons in his house - he assured him that they had nothing to fear. It did not take Janick long to reach the clearing - it was some 800 steps away from the house. To his surprise, he discovered that the usually empty clearing was occupied by several figures. They were dressed like the beggars from the city of Attia - only the sheer number of weapons in a different profession showed. One of the characters - a woman, as it turned out later, was apparently a sorceress, as she played with a little flame crawling on her hand. Janick approached the edge of the clearing cautiously, wanting to listen to the loud dispute.
“We've been wandering in this wilderness for over a week. It's been a good month since I left this damn temple. Were it not for our new companions who made their healing potions available to us, we would probably all end up as food for forest animals. In addition, we still don't really know what happened in that temple or what happened to Thorin. Do I alone remember anything? "
“Calm down, Illaifenie - we've already talked about it. Neither of us remembers those events. We don't know what happened, but it won't do us any good by studying those events. We need to reflect on our future. Our bellows are still empty. For something, you will have to buy equipment, potions in the nearest town, dress better, because now we look like beggars. First of all, you have to finally get to some city. "
“I agree with Henn - no need to feel sorry for your fate - you have to act. Tomorrow, at dawn, we set off in the direction given to us by our new companions. We should reach Adria in a few days. "
Suddenly, Janick carelessly stepped onto the branch, which broke with a loud crash. After a few seconds, the boy was surrounded by everyone who had sat by the fire earlier ...
“I'm 14 years old - I've had the same nightmare for the last 3 years. Night after night I am in some terrible battle. It does not look like in the stories of my grandfather - there are no knights in fighting armor and disgusting, filled with fear of the impending end of their miserable orcs' lives. There is nothing in it of the overheard atmosphere of a solemn event and the subsequent glory for the winners, which by some strange coincidence in my grandfather's stories were always the forces of good. In my grandfather's stories, the battle seems to be a solemn, cleansing event, after which the bad guys always run away in panic. In my dream, the battle is completely different. On both sides there are representatives of all races - dwarves, elves, humans, but also goblins, orcs, and trolls. The scarlet sky, torn by lightning, emphasizes the unnatural nature of the whole situation. After some time, as if at some silent signal, both armies hit each other. The faces of the warriors express only one feeling - hatred. Kill, destroy, annihilate the enemy at all costs. There is no honor, glory or righteousness. There is only a fight to the death.
The first ranks clashed with each other. A terrible scream rose over the battlefield. This scream foreshadows the terrible harvest that death will reap today. Only now do I notice that the two armies differ in one detail. One of the armies on the armor has a snake's head painted in red, the other one has blue paint. The "blue" squad of dwarves broke into the ranks of human archers. It's hard to see the movement of the short, stocky, ax-wielding dwarven hands - everything happens so fast. The only evidence of the effectiveness of their attack is the body parts falling onto the grass soggy with rain. Suddenly a blinding flash. The dwarven commander looks at his unit in amazement, watching the spark of life fade in the eyes of his companions. He looks reproachfully at the sky and, praying, falls to the ground - the burned bodies of his companions fall to the battlefield to the accompaniment of the mocking laughter of the "red" elven wizard. It does not last long, however - it suddenly breaks off with a loud rattling sound. A blue arrow pierces the wizard's throat.
More fights, more minutes of killing. There are no wounded on the battlefield - they are immediately finished off as if some force did not wish for the triumph of life over death. It was to be a one-sided victory for the grim reaper. The stench hovering above the battlefield is unbearable - a mixture of blood, excrement, sweat, ozone, slowly decomposing corpses. The survivors, however, do not feel it - they have only one goal - to destroy the enemy from the face of the earth.
The last two branches are fighting with each other. Human swords, crisscrossing dwarven axes, elven and goblin arrows wreak havoc on opposing ranks, red and blue wizards casting and disabling their most terrible spells. Every second brings death, the ranks thinner. Two of them remain. A red man wielding two hand-and-a-half swords and a blue elf with a katana and a short sword. They both look at each other, panting heavily. They look around and see piles, a veritable sea of corpses, limbs, abandoned weapons. They know that this is the end - that there is only one opponent in their way, who can be killed for the sake of their own preservation. A flash in the eye and the singing of the blade. Parade. Half-turn. Crockery. Blood drops from a severed arm. Feint. Riposte. Another endless combat cutting and blood mixing in close quarters. A moment of hesitation ... end of the duel. The man falls down with his head bowed to his knees. Raindrops drip from his hair and soak into the studded jacket of the dead elf lying in front of him. A man raises his head, sticking his unseeing eyes into the void. At this point, she feels like she is becoming him. Enormous pain spreading from the base of the skull to all limbs, the smell of ozone, a blinding flash and then darkness.
I wake up in my bed. I play the same battle every day. Every day with the same result. I didn't tell my grandfather about it because he'd think I'm crazy. I have to cool my hot head somehow. I think that if I leave my house for a while, nothing will happen - we live in a remote area. It is true that my grandfather told me to stay at home and wait until his return, but he will not find out - he will be back in 3 days at the earliest. Where would I go? It's too noisy over the waterfall - he needs some quiet, peaceful place to gather his thoughts. Yes - this clearing definitely works. "
Smiling to himself, Janick put on a warm sheepskin caftan and walked towards the clearing where he often heard his grandfather's stories. He wore no weapon - his grandfather scolded him for making himself a wooden sword. He explained to Janick that he did not want any weapons in his house - he assured him that they had nothing to fear. It did not take Janick long to reach the clearing - it was some 800 steps away from the house. To his surprise, he discovered that the usually empty clearing was occupied by several figures. They were dressed like the beggars from the city of Attia - only the sheer number of weapons in a different profession showed. One of the characters - a woman, as it turned out later, was apparently a sorceress, as she played with a little flame crawling on her hand. Janick approached the edge of the clearing cautiously, wanting to listen to the loud dispute.
“We've been wandering in this wilderness for over a week. It's been a good month since I left this damn temple. Were it not for our new companions who made their healing potions available to us, we would probably all end up as food for forest animals. In addition, we still don't really know what happened in that temple or what happened to Thorin. Do I alone remember anything? "
“Calm down, Illaifenie - we've already talked about it. Neither of us remembers those events. We don't know what happened, but it won't do us any good by studying those events. We need to reflect on our future. Our bellows are still empty. For something, you will have to buy equipment, potions in the nearest town, dress better, because now we look like beggars. First of all, you have to finally get to some city. "
“I agree with Henn - no need to feel sorry for your fate - you have to act. Tomorrow, at dawn, we set off in the direction given to us by our new companions. We should reach Adria in a few days. "
Suddenly, Janick carelessly stepped onto the branch, which broke with a loud crash. After a few seconds, the boy was surrounded by everyone who had sat by the fire earlier ...