Since my current hobbies kinda keep me from keeping a regular pace with things, i thought i maybe could still fit in this and that every then and then.
So i decided to open up a project that has been brewing in the back of my head for a while now: writing about Harkemar the Paladin.
Harkemar is a fairly fresh character in my selection of PCs. He started otu as a randomly generated name i came up with for a few fanfic quizzes over at the attic.
Hmm, in fact, i think i'll start with that, CnP those little bits here first, so you'll know who i'm talking about here...
In non-chronological order.
Potions
"Ahhh! The magic. I feel much better now... But i'd better swallow another, just in case..." Harkemar poured himself another mouthful.
"C'mon now, we should be going already."
"Ims, you know what they say... "Victorious warriors win first, and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first, and then seek to win", hmm? you remember that, yes, now it's a clear fact, preparation is key to victory!"
Imoen shrugged in a frustrated manner, and turned to look out through the dusty window behind her.
A moment went by, and another.
"Ahh! Ims, i'm almost done, i could... take on a VAMPIRE!"
Imoen only gave him a quick hopeless glance before turning back to observing what was going on outside.
"Just one more... Now where did i put that one... Ahh yes..."
One long moment later...
"NOW. I feel strength! Bwahahahahaaa! I could take on the world! I'm READY for ANYTHING!"
Imoen turned to face him, sighed, and said "Bro, do you always have to glorify your spontaneous drinking sprees like that?"
Deadly Presumptions
The cowards were rustling outside, making their feeble last minute preparations for their end.
Sarevok stood still, surrounded by his last, and only worthy followers.
He stared at the door, soon the misguided and feeble, knight from candlekeep would step through with his worthless comrades.
What little harm the patchwork band of demented fools had done to his plans would now be avenged, and his victory here would finally prove his worth, nothing would stand between him and his ascension.
The past trials would end here, and his path to divinity would roll open like a red carpet now... A red carpet woven of the veins and arteries of his enemies and colored with their blood, YES!
At that moment the door opened, and a single man in full armor entered.
The man stood a little short of 6 feet tall, wore several holy symbol imitations around his neck, bore the mark of Lathander on his surcoat, and waved around a white flag vigorously.
The gesture of weakness on the part of his adversary made Sarevok grimace, though it hardly mattered; his helmet did that anyway and that's pretty much all anyone could see.
The armored man seemed nervous at first, but then he apparently found courage enough somewhere to switch on his usual vainglorious manner, and so he began making an approach, with the flag in hand.
The man took off his winged bascinet helmet, revealing short blonde hair, a cocksure grin, and a sharp goatee, Sarevok recognized Harkemar, his brother.
Harkemar hollered; "Hoi! You! Err, foul demon-dressing, unworthy brother of mine! Surrender yourself now to the judgement of the most righteous, and your life might not be forfeit!"
The man took another step closer, and almost tripped over one of the trapwires spanning the ancient temple from one wall to the other.
With a satisfied smile the audacious hollerer drew a dagger and cut the wire.
Sarevok smirked, the fool had doomed himself; the trap mechanism did not work that simply, if you pulled the string, a pair of blocks would slide out of place, and make symbols of summoning come together on both sides of the hall. But if you cut the wire, a pair of spring mechanisms would do the work for you, and either way, doomguards would appear.
And they did.
The goateed intruder heard the hissing sound of existence materializing, and quickly looked around, noticing the hulking menaces and their flaming blades approaching on both sides.
With a yelp Harkemar tossed aside his helmet and the flag, and sprinted out faster than people are supposed to be able to, with exploding arrows and fireballs tight on his tail.
With a bloodthirsty roar, Sarevok gave chase, but he moved too slowly, the double doors slammed shut before either he or the doomguards could make their way out, and he could hear the sound of rubblepiles collapsing against the wood on the outside, jamming the doors.
He charged at the doors full force, and began hacking away with his sword, the old carpentry would not hold for long.
"Coward! Weakling! Fight me! Fight me you weak-kneed ratshit!"
Sarevok stopped to listen for a moment, he could hear running steps gaining distance outside, probably three people.
"You were never worthy of Bhaals blood! Come back and die like the coward that you are!"
He stopped again to listen, and he had but a moment to consider what he heard; "Fire Eddie! Fire in the hole! NOW!".
Then the walls blew inwards with a rumbling blast, and the roof rained down it's pummelling wrath upon him, and he flew on to another realm of existence.
****
So ahh, some of you have probably seen these already, but ahh, onwards...
Edited by WeeRLegion, 15 June 2007 - 01:30 PM.
