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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Kaelyn
Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time
Subject: .

What had begun with a single step, a testing of faith, resolve, morality and self worth; had ended in a frantic situation resulting in the deaths of at least two individuals, both strangers amongst the rest. One, a poor victim of a cruel fate, the other –their caller—seemed to have succumbed to his end before he could even shed light on the supposed direness of his summons.

It seemed getting out of their sundered surroundings was an agreed priority, but for some, so too were finding answers to who the mage was, as well as why they had been called. Vincente quickly went over to the fallen mage, claiming the disk that had bound the portals, and the small box upon the table, before rifling through the dead man’s robes. Peeling back the smoke-hued, almost gaseous material of his garment was easy enough; the material simply flowed over Vincente’s hands. A cursory search revealed little however. Much of the man’s body had become a conduit of power; his once elegant white undergarments scorched and singed, fused to old tight flesh and taught skin. A few pouches once strapped to a belt about his waist were melted masses of blackened leather.
There was no spell-book, much to Vincente’s dismay, all of note the quick search did reveal was a single silver ring fused to the mages right hand ring finger, a bright blue jewel set into an intricate setting of dark metal. Also, of note, is over the now still heart of the mage lay the remnants of a symbol, or emblem perhaps. It had been scorched and singed badly, but just enough could be made out to make an educated guess it had once been a blooming scarlet rose.

While Vincente searched, others moved about their surroundings. A few moved towards the clutter barring the larger front door, while Kismet sought to the windows. Janus with magical lights accenting the orange hue of the flames lashing at the roof and creeping down the support beams, headed down the back hallway.

The hallway didn’t go too far before it veered around to the right. Turning the corner and keeping an eye on the roofing and such, Janus could see the occasional flicker of flame above him as the fire raged and spread to all it could consume to fuel its wrath. Smoke hung high in the rafters, and as Janus continued on, the crackling of timber around him was not a comforting sound. The hallway ended in a second room, a storeroom. Shelves lined two of the walls stacked high with boxes, sacks, and extra typical mundane items used in the running of a taproom. What really caught his eye however were the large barrels against the far back wall, Thick oak barrels, stacked from floor to near ceiling, their pale wood burnished with various ale, mead, and other brew descriptions. Next to those were a few dozen glass bottles lining wooden racks, presumably wine or other spirits. Even with the smell of smoke and char, alcohol permeated the air in this room. In the center of the room, upon the floor lay a large rug. Approximately 4’x6’ it depicted crystal clear waters running over falls, and crashing into a basin below, while dragons flew overhead, and dear drank from the water’s edge. The quality of the stitching was admirable, but the piece would no doubt be heavy.

Meanwhile back in the common room, Kismet did her best to tear at the windows. Held shut by simple latches, she had the shutters open in no time. Pulling them wide, revealed unbarred portals to the outside, from which appeared to be nothing more than empty road and a smattering of trees about the otherwise empty darkened landscape.

As Atharam, Joseph, and soon after Vincente started to clear the obstacles barring the door, Henrik made his way over to the fallen mage as well, and hefted his frail body into his arms. Surprisingly, old or not the adult male weighed remarkably little. As the warrior of faith carried the dead over to the others, they too soon had cleared enough of the debris aside to make for the door itself. Together they lifted off the heavy wooden board which served to bar entry, and swung wide the portal to their freedom. To step outside and take a look around would reveal this quiet respite—The Copper Spigot—by the wooden sign hanging above the entranceway, sat alongside some road, which travelled in both directions far into the darkness beyond sight. The landscape held small rolling hills dotted with trees and wild grasses save for the trodden down road of hard earth and trampled grass.

As the building continued to burn, a means for escape had been made, but many questions still lay unanswered, like where the hell were they?

Posted on 2011-06-01 at 18:53:33.
Edited on 2011-06-01 at 19:49:33 by Kaelyn

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: just an update

some stuff came up last night that distracted from completing my update I aim for finishing it tonight after work,

Posted on 2011-05-31 at 18:08:03.

Topic: The Search for Tomorrow Q/A
Subject: Pick me..

I'll break her out.. or attempt or ... tell the midgit to do it since he's handy with his small tool

Posted on 2011-05-30 at 07:31:54.

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: |Still waiting on grugg

My next day off is monday with or without grugg I shall be posting.

Posted on 2011-05-28 at 05:30:10.

Topic: Good morning Red Dragon Inn! Or is it Evening? I am never really sure!
Subject: in this corner of existence

there is nothing good about this morning.. which is still a continuation from Monday since I haven't slept yet...

Posted on 2011-05-25 at 13:31:41.

Topic: The Search for Tomorrow Q/A
Subject: Just so its known

I didnt make any mention of approaching or touching the woman cause if shes in a cell im gathering its likely locked

Posted on 2011-05-23 at 20:13:48.

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: Dm cd points

Go towards enhancing any npc's of note that may befriend you along the way , and serve to let me know i'm still doing right by you, my players

So thank you

Posted on 2011-05-22 at 04:05:26.

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: Answers, suggestions, and information

Firstly Skye, breakfast today was an organic fruit smoothie, half a denver omelette and hasbrowns.

Second, as people have already expressed enjoyment from posts etc, please see the second post entry on the first page of this thread. If you care to allocate your point at all this weeks worth of posting feel free to say so here or in a pm if u wish to remain anonymous.

Thirdly, my next day off and subsequent time for update will be wednesday once again.

Posted on 2011-05-21 at 17:48:03.

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: answers

Now, questions. Where is most of the fire, the ceiling? Is it crumbling? If Joseph were to make a guess at how long he had in there before he had to get out what would the answer be? How high are the windows off the ground?

The ceiling is pretty much ablaze with flames slowly workign their way down the support rafters, the lowest point of flames is still about 8feet up. with most of the flames about 9' up gathered aroudn the upper rafters and thatch.

As for crumbling, bits of flaming roof or wood are always a potential hazard as they could catch alight anything below.

If looking around and making a calm rational guess as to the time you have pending some unfortunate structural flaw or break.. you likely have a couple minutes before the flames are floor bound and the entire room is engulfed....

Windows are 3' off the ground.

Posted on 2011-05-20 at 09:13:29.
Edited on 2011-05-20 at 09:14:19 by Kaelyn

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: Noones been sent flying

All the pcs are alive and recovering it was a npc eighth who was sent flying apart.

Posted on 2011-05-19 at 21:11:42.

Topic: Good morning Red Dragon Inn! Or is it Evening? I am never really sure!
Subject: good morning

For some reason I was up at 10... it was after 5am when I finished updating Nomachron.. I expect much backlash from the woman about proper sleep requirements hehe..

Time to make smoothies and start day.. Should get out for a run before the forecast thunderstorms.. I hope they're beautiful

Posted on 2011-05-19 at 16:47:19.

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: The wizard

Upon closer inspection, is not breathing, and to whomever goes to check, will find his eyes have been burned from their sockets, leaving seared bloody holes still smoking beneath the robes.... do as you wish

But searching him will require in game posting and attribution of time to be replied to in an update.

Posted on 2011-05-19 at 16:27:05.
Edited on 2011-05-19 at 16:28:34 by Kaelyn

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: Angry mob?

Currently you can't see outside, nor hear anything that would indicate anyone outside much less an angry mob lol Reaching the doors will take a few rounds to clear a path / remove all the tables and chairs blocking your exit.

Posted on 2011-05-19 at 16:18:17.
Edited on 2011-05-19 at 16:25:11 by Kaelyn

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: of course

all the Pc's are alive ... the 'focus' of the spell? Are you talking the ring? I've laid out the situation, what you all choose to do with what's been presented is up to you

Posted on 2011-05-19 at 16:17:19.

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: Post is up

Admittedly it's now almost 5am.. and it trails a bit near the end, but I'm happy with the sense of urgency it's displayed..
Enjoy and Welcome to Nomachron

Posted on 2011-05-19 at 10:49:33.
Edited on 2011-05-19 at 10:49:53 by Kaelyn

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time
Subject: Out of the frying pan...

Inside the vacant common room, where once merriment and mirth were accompanied by song, smoke and spirits, now eight portals shimmered as crackles of pure magic, old magic tore asunder the very fabric of space and time, and beckoned forth a would be champion. From across the realms one by one the portals shimmered as Nomachron’s hope for a future accepted their Destiny. As each portal’s image rippled like a stone cast upon its liquid surface, a stranger appeared. With each arrival of a would-be-saviour, the enchanter’s breath grew shallower, as each successful transfer of life drew more and more strength from the remaining portals, and by consequence the life force of the mage who made the desperate call.


The man staggered, falling to his knees, fighting to keep the intricate incantation going as his fingers wagged and danced with sparks of white light. His stumble, however brief, caused the portals to flicker dangerously, their stability growing ever less.


The portal shimmered and in walked a man with the gallant trappings of a knight, though at his side a surprising addition, an equally regal steed came into being.
No, how could not foresee this. This draws too much power... The man coughed, and blood and spittle flew forth from the confines of his shifting robes as the strands of life, his ties to this world frayed and began to unravel. He could no longer maintain the precise movements and words to maintain the spell that had cost him everything to cast.
The portals began to tremble violently; the electricity arced in violent bolts, searing holes in the dark wood wherever they struck, splintering boards and where they struck the thatch plugging the rafters, embers caught and took, flames already licking their way across the closest rafters to the walls and pillars which supported them threatening to set the entire structure ablaze.

“Six...Hedrada your strength... just a few more seconds.”

Pouring every ounce of strength he had left into maintaining the portals, a man dressed in the skins and hides of the woodlands, and smelling strongly of the earth and rain appeared. Then with him too another creature appeared, this one draped in thick fur, and with cunning eyes that shone with intelligence as sharp teeth bared beneath curled lips and a low growl escaped Joseph’s wolf companion.


The casters last plea of despair was lost as the portals began to collapse as one. Seven had made it through the portals with the eighth barely making it through the dissipating portal... In a great explosion of blinding light the portals imploded, sending a shockwave of temporal energy throughout the room, the wave shook everyone to the core, threatening to rip them apart with the backlash of numerous realities all coalescing in one place as an equilibrium was fought to be restored.

Through grit teeth and steeled resolves, those called fought their first battle mere seconds after answering the call, as this torrent of sheer power surged through them . Eyes blinded shut through searing pain and intense light; everyone clung to whatever strength they could muster to resist the invasive force. Seven would find the strength within, one would not. The last to enter the portal, and the closest to the explosion as the caster collapsed to lie still beneath the table, the either had not the time, nor the fortitude to resist the dimensional pull that assaulted his recently delivered body. The portals having been significantly weakened by two unexpected additions, caught him squarely, and he was lifted from his feet as he cried out in shock and pain, carried over the spinning ring atop the table, as the eight portals blinked shut, all their energies flooding back through him like a conduit. He mouthed a silent scream, though his voice was scattered across the planes. If any managed to open their eyes, through the sting of pain and tears their last vision of him would be his very body and soul being shred apart, his anguished expression almost missed as the portal energy consumed him.

And then it was over. Crackling energy and desperate cries had been replaced by the heavy breathing of heaving chests, the soft echoes of the ring as its spin slowed and its rotation came to an end much like a coin upon the table, leaning against the small box nearby. That coupled with the first sound of a rafter splintering as flames licked around it every descending to the floor below provided a very real danger that in a matter of minutes this entire building would be a fiery blaze. An introduction, and ending to a story before it ever had a chance to be written were steps not taken and quickly.

Already Raykel was nudging Atharam towards the barred doors with his powerful neck; though the horse took no step forward himself. Tristella bayed at the flames above, fear evident in her voice and eyes as she pawed impatiently at the floor by Joseph’s feet.

(And there you have the introduction. There are two shuttered windows about 3’Hx4’L, six feet apart, in the southern wall, as well as the main door, a sturdy wooden board, with a few latches drawn, and numerous chairs and tables from the common room piled in front of it, whether to make room, or bar unwanted entry is unsure. The Common room has one hallway leading north, but with the portals illumination out, light has been reduced to that of torchlight as the flames spread and smoke grows thicker with each passing round. Feel free to pose any questions in the Q/a and I will answer them asap)

Posted on 2011-05-19 at 10:48:33.
Edited on 2011-05-19 at 10:57:12 by Kaelyn

Topic: Good morning Red Dragon Inn! Or is it Evening? I am never really sure!
Subject: Good morning

It's my 'weekend' as I'm off today and tomorrow... Today holds, a Physical with bloodwork , groceries, cleaning, Gaming, Donating Blood this afternoon, then Drinks and Wings with friends afterwards.. (See how cost effective a night out is when you're a pint of blood down?)

THEN I get to come home and update Nomachron.. Should be a good day..

Posted on 2011-05-18 at 17:01:50.

Topic: Good morning Red Dragon Inn! Or is it Evening? I am never really sure!
Subject: lol Skye

It's not the Country it's the industry...

Posted on 2011-05-17 at 19:45:54.

Topic: Good morning Red Dragon Inn! Or is it Evening? I am never really sure!
Subject: Good morning

This morning sees a quick shower then off to work for another double shift, but at least i have the next couple days off.. see ya later innmates!

Posted on 2011-05-17 at 17:11:22.

Topic: The Search for Tomorrow
Subject: Hmmm

As Kresimir pushed open the door, it's moisture wracked hinges squeaked a shrill cry that the Gano swore would wake the dead. Cursing softly under his breath, and holding the torch aloft to repel the darkness within, he realized the corridor bore holding cells, and to his surprise one was not empty.

Inside one of the cells was a lithe woman who despite the cruelty of the marks and bruises etched into once fair skin, held some beauty about her.

Seeing the large, and unfortunately often mistakenly brutish figure in the doorway, the captive's reaction was less than optimistic.

Trying to calm her, spoke as softly as his typically boisterous voice would allow. He approached the cell, but was more than his arms reach away from it to seem less threatening.

"Calm now scared one. I'm not to be hurtin' you, nor will anyone else now. My companions and I be crackin a few skulls to get in here, and we'll be crackin a few more before we leave there be no doubt, but for now you're safe. Can you stand lass? What's your name?"

(While information is important, it's not a priority for the Gano despite their predicament. He's focused on trying to ensure the woman he's not a threat to her, appeal to her hopeful aspirations of rescue and survival etc)

Posted on 2011-05-17 at 06:17:02.

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: one more

just waiting on chessik. Hopefully he get's one in and I can update tomorrow, if not, I'l update wednesday with or without his post.

Posted on 2011-05-16 at 06:50:05.
Edited on 2011-05-16 at 23:17:05 by Kaelyn

Topic: The Search for Tomorrow
Subject: Tired... bloody... oooh shiney thing

Kresimir followed the others down the corridor as it descended into darkness. Only Nick's divine light illuminate their way, casting off the enveloping shroud which seemed ready to swallow them up. As they cautiously entered what would be identified as a storeroom, people began looking through various things in search of supplies, or some clue as to where the refugees may be or who they were up against.

Koriss was playing in the closest, and the Gano's gypsy mind had a chuckle as the small fellow came back out from reaching into the wooden armoire, sporting a rather fashionable pair of gloves.

Turning his head he chuckled a bit and began checking a corner as of yet unrifled goods.

When a thorough search of the room was agreed as being complete by those present, he pointed to both of the still closed doors before him and shrugged at Tobias.

"Pick a key any key, and prithee this time key not be me"

Posted on 2011-05-12 at 21:45:10.

Topic: Good morning Red Dragon Inn! Or is it Evening? I am never really sure!
Subject: Yawn Stretch*

Good.. *Checkls clock* Afternoon... THe pleasant trickling of coffee into the pot stirs life in these stiff muscles... Oh well, time to stretch, grab a cup, and post to The Search.

Posted on 2011-05-12 at 18:12:17.

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time Q/A
Subject: The Game is Live!

Feel free to post, and use this Q&A for anything else you may need. I'll put Skye's Character up in the morning.. I'm beat.

Posted on 2011-05-11 at 10:13:10.

Topic: Nomachron: Tides of Time
Subject: Nomachron: Tides of Time

It is in the darkest hour that a person comes to term with their true self.
Only when one peers into the blackness of oblivion is the imageless reflection beyond clear in its capture of the viewer’s true character. It is when faced with insurmountable odds, pain, sorrow, or loss that one sheds all pretences and lays bare the only pure emotion of any sentient being… fear. Fear is the proverbial double edged sword. Two sides of the same coin, where one is a crippler, robbing its victim of strength and focus. The other is a profound motivator, propelling those stricken to tap into unknown and remarkable reserves of courage and resolve, propelling those few to acts of heroism and valor.

I fear the Trician Kingdom, nay, all of Nomachron has been thrust into the blackness of her darkest hour. I tremble at the realization that too many will succumb to the disease that will stricken our people when fear wracks their minds, and steals any hope they have, and I pray to the Gods above that the coin will spin and fall in the world’s favor but a handful of times to deliver us the heroes we so desperately need.

Icarius, Royal Scribe


While most slept under veils of security, or delusions of safety this night in the quiet Trician Kingdom, many others reveled in the dark of night. Here the dry hilltops danced with fire, chasing away the blackness with their spiteful glow. Throughout the heart of the untamed badlands civilization had come to call the Wyrmrest, great bonfires had been kindled high atop the ridges overlooking Tres’mir Vale. There thousands of warriors had gathered—hobgoblins in armor dyed crimson, thick-hewed bugbear berserkers, goblin worg riders and skirmishers and archers, and the scaled ones as well, who often towered over the rest. For so long they had fought each other, tribe against tribe, and race against race, engaged in the endless test of battle, feud, and betrayal in an effort to establish some form of supremacy.

But tonight… tonight they stood together, hated enemies shoulder-to-shoulder, shouting together as brothers. And they saw that they were strong, and together they danced tribal steps and sang in guttural tongues and shook their various blades and weapons at the smoke-hidden stars overhead.

“We are the Kulkor Mor’!” they shouted, and the hills shook with the thunderous resonance of their voices. “We are the Children of Mormo! Uighulth na Hargai! None can stand before us!”

One by one the tribes fell silent, as though a mass spell swept over the gathered horde, stealing their voices. Armor creaked as thousands turned to look to the hilltop above, to the Pinnacle of Voice. There, a single champion emerged from the assemblage and slowly climbed the ancient stone stair hewn from the side of the hill. A hundred bright red banners stood beneath him like a phalanx of spears, each marked with a great black hand. The war priests holding the banners chanted battle-prayers in low voices as the champion ascended.

On the hundredth step he stopped and turned to face the waiting warriors. Looking down amongst the throngs of those gathered for one cause, his cruel lips curled into a wicked grin. He was tall and strong, one of the hobgoblin chieftains, but ashen scales gleamed along his shoulders, and jutting horns swept back from his head. “I am Kraith’r Zul!, Son of the Serpent!” he cried. “Hear me warriors of the Kulkor Mor’! Tomorrow we march to war!”

The warriors gathered roared their approval, stamping their feet and clashing spear to shield, blade to helm, or fist to chest. Kraith’r Zul waited, holding his hands aloft until they quieted again. “The war priests of the Serpent Mother have shown us the way! They have taught us honor, discipline, obedience—and strength! No more will we waste our efforts spilling the blood of each other. We will take the lands of the elf, the dwarf, and the human, and make them ours! Their Gods are weakened by their struggle with the Titans, but our Mother defeated has not abandoned us! Her blood strengthens us, empowers us! Under the banner of the Black Claw we will march to victory and conquest! Remember that you stood here this night my faithful warriors, my brethren of Kulkor Mor’! For a hundred generations your sons and your sons’ sons will sing of the blood spilled by your blades, and the glory you win in the nights to come! Now my brothers—to WAR!”
The burning hills of the vale were too small to hold the thunderous shout the Kulkor Mor’ gave in answer to their warlords call.

ACT I: The Ebb and Flow

16th of Madrot, Charday 10:22pm –The Copper Spigot

The typically bustling inn with adjoined tavern house lay locked and unassuming to outside onlookers, its thick oaken doors sealed and barred by a sturdy crossbar, its windows shuttered and lights dim. Tonight, no thick smoke billowed and flowed amongst the rafters, no scents of smoked meats, strong tonics and brews, nor the occasional addition of blood, sweat, tears or vomit permeated the air. Instead, gathered in the common room stood eight chairs along the points of an octagon carved into the hardwood floor and filled with a fine white powder, with each chair facing the center of the room. At the octagons center stood a strong mahogany table, with intricate woodwork of animals and monstrous beasts of myth and legend scrawled into the legs. The center of the table was a finely polished mirror, bordered in golden filigree and more mahogany framework.

Standing behind the table, stood a man garbed in dull grey robes, the loose fitting material seemed to writhe and snake around his form with the consistency of a thick smoke. To look upon him directly would provide a hazy silhouette of a man, whose facial features were kept deep within a hood of the foggy material sheathing his visage from view.

From within the folds of his attire he produced a large golden ring about a foot in diameter. Setting it upon the table next to a small intricately carved box of dark wood and iron, it began to whirl and spin of its own accord increasing in velocity as the shrouded figure began to mutter indecipherable words in the arcane tongue. The ring spun faster and faster, and within the rotating ring images began to flash, images of places near and far, as eight different individuals came and went with each mesmerizing turn of the ring. The loop itself began to crackle with blue-white energy, and the robed figure increased the tempo of his incantation.

The darkness of the room was illuminated by the crackling energy which sparked chaotically about the room now, bouncing off an unseen ward. Within minutes, the veiled Mage seemed to be standing amidst a fantastical display of energy akin to that of a tesla coil. As the energy arced, he channeled the images of those eight with all the concentration he could muster. His hidden brow was drenched in sweat, his voice raspy and his hands gripped the table ledge for support as they trembled. As the gathered energy coalesced into a magnificent lightning storm confined to the small quarters, Bolts shot forth from the ring to each point of the Octagon, tearing open the fabric of reality and forming a shifting, dimensional portal in a constant state of flux. Through it he could see each of the Eight he had chosen. Looks of fear, bewilderment, Awe and the like splayed upon each one, caught unawares from the sudden intrusion into their life.
His strength waning, he could but conjure a simple message to be sent forth to each of them as he desperately tried to hold the portals open.

“Insert Full Character’s True Name Here,” Your life as you have known it changes this night. Nomachron is in great peril, and you are all that stands at the brink of her destruction, capable of bringing her salvation. I implore thee, for whatever reasons may guide your step, enter now the portal before you, accept your part in the world’s destiny, and carve out your own.

(Each PC can be wherever they figure they’d be on a cool Charday’s eve, when the portal and message appear before you, sending arcs of energy this way and that, If there are others nearby, they scamper away in fright, None can hear the message, as it appears clear as day in each of your minds, in any language you speak. The words ring with a sense of urgency, absolute truth, and peering back through the portal each can see the single robed figure at the table, pleading with you to take the portal while you still can. (Lest you be left out of the adventure lol)

(Here’s a perfect opportunity to allow for a character introduction, perhaps a bit of background or their day to day lifestyle before being whisked off to adventure etc. will post next when each person has entered the portal.)

Posted on 2011-05-11 at 10:07:36.
Edited on 2011-05-19 at 10:38:18 by Kaelyn


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