No sooner than Psycho had situated Hannibal's shackles he got an urgent message from his team stationed at The Shadow Temple. Raistlin contacted Psycho clearly and with a twang of surprise in his connection.
'My Lord, please come quick there is something important happening at the temple. A Ghost of Mask has appeared before the camp and is asking for those leading the effort to rescue him.'
'You have done well brother! I will be there ASAP.'
'I have already prepared transport for you.'
Within moments Psycho was transported to the base of The Shadow Temple. There indeed was Mask standing within the clouds, near the weeping child.
Mask was not nearly as clear as the signal Psycho had recked from Raistlin. The God was a fragment of his truepower, still locked away within The Shadow Realm. Even in his weakened state he was a sight for sore eyes.
That meant not only was it not too late to save the gods, but also that they wanted to return.
As Psycho drew close he saw the Knights of the Order were not the only group to notice Mask's presence.
Showing posts with label Hannibal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hannibal. Show all posts
a prize to bring home
He ran to a large room opposite the charging golem. Upon entering he lay a thick grease at the mouth of the room, and then using a pair of dragon wings he took his position hovering above the doorway. The Golem came through the door without hesitation and slid from the entrance into the wall at the other side of the room.
The Golem was on his back flat, the blow had stunned it but a fury was building inside the golem. Psycho quickly dumped more grease over the golem. Now directly overtop the golem Psycho spoke. 'The best way to stand between a rock and a hard place is off to the side.' The golem furious thrashed as it tried to stand again and again only to fall.
The grease was now too thick the golem could not gain enough friction to thrash so it lay on the ground helpless. If there was a golem here then there must be more to the temple than he should handle alone.
Psycho with his wits back took a look around the room. He saw a ladder going up into darkness above with a partially collapsed covering. At the foot of the ladder was an unconscious hecuva. He looked hungry, yet incredibly strong.
Psycho decided to cut his adventure short and return to the Heart of the Keep while he was still ahead. The Hecuva he would bring back with him.
As Psycho clasped the shackles upon the undead he stole much of the undead's freedom. The Shackles were just the first part of the soul binding process. The deep binding came from the gauntlet, Psycho reached into the hecuva's unconscious mind and pulled forth a rough cut gem. Psycho was able to control the undead even unconscious with the gem.
The skeleton rose and began his march back to the Heart of the Order
The Golem was on his back flat, the blow had stunned it but a fury was building inside the golem. Psycho quickly dumped more grease over the golem. Now directly overtop the golem Psycho spoke. 'The best way to stand between a rock and a hard place is off to the side.' The golem furious thrashed as it tried to stand again and again only to fall.
The grease was now too thick the golem could not gain enough friction to thrash so it lay on the ground helpless. If there was a golem here then there must be more to the temple than he should handle alone.
Psycho with his wits back took a look around the room. He saw a ladder going up into darkness above with a partially collapsed covering. At the foot of the ladder was an unconscious hecuva. He looked hungry, yet incredibly strong.
Psycho decided to cut his adventure short and return to the Heart of the Keep while he was still ahead. The Hecuva he would bring back with him.
As Psycho clasped the shackles upon the undead he stole much of the undead's freedom. The Shackles were just the first part of the soul binding process. The deep binding came from the gauntlet, Psycho reached into the hecuva's unconscious mind and pulled forth a rough cut gem. Psycho was able to control the undead even unconscious with the gem.
The skeleton rose and began his march back to the Heart of the Order
Current Character Description - Hannibal
A gaunt face with sunken sockets and pallid flesh meets you, his eyes a clear and glowing ice blue. Dark armor etched by acid and scratched by blades encases his frame, which although appearing deathly pale, is muscled and powerful.
Strapped to his back he carries a two-handed sword of black steel that appears to steal light from its surroundings.
From his neck hangs a necklace bearing the emblem of Bane, the Black Lord.
Swirling around his wrists and ankles appear to be ethereal shackles.
Strapped to his back he carries a two-handed sword of black steel that appears to steal light from its surroundings.
From his neck hangs a necklace bearing the emblem of Bane, the Black Lord.
Swirling around his wrists and ankles appear to be ethereal shackles.
Radiant Shackles
Into a staircased side chamber he continued, the golems were occupied.. for now.
Up the stairs he ran, spiraling up and up. As he reaching the top landing, he slammed through the molding door and onto the upper parapets at the front of the keep.. Blinding sunlight filled his vision, a reminder of his awakening from the vault, and as it cleared.. the smashed and melted stone of the protective wall of the keep, littered with the long-rotted corpses of the fallen soldiers.
Half of the way along the wall, a siege ladder still stood against the stones. He approached it cautiously and tested the first step, it was strong enough to bear his weight. He began the climb down the eighty foot ladder and only twenty feet in, the stone wall shuddered and the sound he'd heard before of the golems blew through the doorway he had just come through.
He was only half way down before the golem reached the top of his ladder, and both of its powerful stone arms smashed the top of the wall clean off, raining broken stone down upon him and knocking the ladder away..
He fell.. He leapt from the ladder... He slammed into the ground and the world went dark.
When he awoke, his vision adjusted to the light once more. This time however, it was wooden ceiling. Turning his head to the side, he saw that he was now in a cell. He rolled to his side, encumbered by ethereal shackles that swirled about his wrists and ankles.
He rose to his feet, looking through the bars towards a dark hallway. Sighing heavily, he was at least glad to be out of the abandoned temple. But where he was, he did not know.
From the hallway, the footfalls of heavy boots could be heard, and a figure began to form. A swirl of spirits and flames encased in radiant red armor, etched with the figure of a tribal dragon with enchanted weapons at his side..
The sun was warm upon his pallid flesh as he marched..
And the shackles were not going to come off easily.
Up the stairs he ran, spiraling up and up. As he reaching the top landing, he slammed through the molding door and onto the upper parapets at the front of the keep.. Blinding sunlight filled his vision, a reminder of his awakening from the vault, and as it cleared.. the smashed and melted stone of the protective wall of the keep, littered with the long-rotted corpses of the fallen soldiers.
Half of the way along the wall, a siege ladder still stood against the stones. He approached it cautiously and tested the first step, it was strong enough to bear his weight. He began the climb down the eighty foot ladder and only twenty feet in, the stone wall shuddered and the sound he'd heard before of the golems blew through the doorway he had just come through.
He was only half way down before the golem reached the top of his ladder, and both of its powerful stone arms smashed the top of the wall clean off, raining broken stone down upon him and knocking the ladder away..
He fell.. He leapt from the ladder... He slammed into the ground and the world went dark.
When he awoke, his vision adjusted to the light once more. This time however, it was wooden ceiling. Turning his head to the side, he saw that he was now in a cell. He rolled to his side, encumbered by ethereal shackles that swirled about his wrists and ankles.
He rose to his feet, looking through the bars towards a dark hallway. Sighing heavily, he was at least glad to be out of the abandoned temple. But where he was, he did not know.
From the hallway, the footfalls of heavy boots could be heard, and a figure began to form. A swirl of spirits and flames encased in radiant red armor, etched with the figure of a tribal dragon with enchanted weapons at his side..
The sun was warm upon his pallid flesh as he marched..
And the shackles were not going to come off easily.
Leap of Faith
The sun was warm upon his pallid flesh as he marched..
The temple had been abandoned. He was alone.
The black marble hallways that had once been his home were devoid of marching steps of soldiers, the vexing chants of highpriests, and the wailing screams of prisoners and sacrifices.. All that remained was the pale magical light that enchanted the stones.
A wisp of ghostly white slid from the wall and formed into a figure before him, a spirit of the ages past.. A banite priest he did not recognize, but whose robe was torn and the side of his face burned away.
"OUT! YOU FILTHY WHELP, GET OUT OF HERE!"
The floor rumbled as the spirit shrieked and rushed him, but faded into empty air.. A shower of cold air rained on his flesh as a large fist of stone smashed through the walls on either side of him. Diving forward into a roll, the stones rained behind him and scattered over the floor. Reaching a standing position, he turned to see stone guardians clamoring noisily from their resting places. Guardians meant to guard the temple from enemies..
They turned their large granite heads towards him and charged.. He fled. Pillared temple areas filles with rotted tapestries, meeting rooms filled with dust that swirled, and rusted iron bars of jailrooms, he ran as fast as he could and followed the path he knew by heart, even after all these years..
Behind him, the slamming and screeching of stone against stone.
As he turned down the hallway to one of the primary entrance chambers of the temple, he stopped dead in his tracks.. The chamber was full of the undead, but they did not stir at his arrival. They surely saw him, as their dead eye sockets scanned the area lazily. Behind him, the slamming grew louder as the golems caught up, as they rounded the corner.
He leapt into the crowd of undead, seemingly invisible, as the golems crashed into them, flinging them left and right. The clatter of rusted helms, breastplates, swords, and spears all rained over the crowd of baneliches and banedead.. the former Zhentilar soldiers.
The temple had been abandoned. He was alone.
The black marble hallways that had once been his home were devoid of marching steps of soldiers, the vexing chants of highpriests, and the wailing screams of prisoners and sacrifices.. All that remained was the pale magical light that enchanted the stones.
A wisp of ghostly white slid from the wall and formed into a figure before him, a spirit of the ages past.. A banite priest he did not recognize, but whose robe was torn and the side of his face burned away.
"OUT! YOU FILTHY WHELP, GET OUT OF HERE!"
The floor rumbled as the spirit shrieked and rushed him, but faded into empty air.. A shower of cold air rained on his flesh as a large fist of stone smashed through the walls on either side of him. Diving forward into a roll, the stones rained behind him and scattered over the floor. Reaching a standing position, he turned to see stone guardians clamoring noisily from their resting places. Guardians meant to guard the temple from enemies..
They turned their large granite heads towards him and charged.. He fled. Pillared temple areas filles with rotted tapestries, meeting rooms filled with dust that swirled, and rusted iron bars of jailrooms, he ran as fast as he could and followed the path he knew by heart, even after all these years..
Behind him, the slamming and screeching of stone against stone.
As he turned down the hallway to one of the primary entrance chambers of the temple, he stopped dead in his tracks.. The chamber was full of the undead, but they did not stir at his arrival. They surely saw him, as their dead eye sockets scanned the area lazily. Behind him, the slamming grew louder as the golems caught up, as they rounded the corner.
He leapt into the crowd of undead, seemingly invisible, as the golems crashed into them, flinging them left and right. The clatter of rusted helms, breastplates, swords, and spears all rained over the crowd of baneliches and banedead.. the former Zhentilar soldiers.
Old Character Description - Hannibal
A gaunt face with sunken sockets and pallid flesh meets you, his eyes a clear and glowing ice blue. Dark armor etched by acid and scratched by blades encases his frame, which although appearing deathly pale, is muscled and powerful.
Strapped to his back he carries a two-handed sword of black steel that appears to steal light from its surroundings.
From his neck hangs a necklace bearing the emblem of Bane, the Black Lord.
Strapped to his back he carries a two-handed sword of black steel that appears to steal light from its surroundings.
From his neck hangs a necklace bearing the emblem of Bane, the Black Lord.
Black Marble
He woke, blinking in the complete darkness.
Flexing his arms, his heavy bracers scraped against the armrests of the large stone chair he was sitting upon. His breast and legplates followed suit as he leaned forward to rise.
"What happened.. ?"
The lack of light however, did not mean a lack of sound.. The room was small, a mere arm's reach in each direction. Reaching up instinctively, he grasped at the necklace around his neck, it was.. The symbol of his god..
"Where am I?"
Sliding his gauntleted hand over the wall of the room, he felt at runes, but could find no purchase for a grip. Frustration was slowly building, he slammed his fist against the wall.. It did not give an inch..
"But .. I... I am loyal."
The runes he had felt burned with blinding green light, he closed his eyes as a loud explosion of shattering stones sounded before him and a whooshing of wind pulled swiftly at his body.
He opened his eyes, his vision was blurred, and slowly it cleared. The wall that had stood before him was strewn about the floor and the room was filled with a cloud of dust, swirling up towards the high ceiling.
As the dust settled in each direction, the black stone of the octagonal chamber became more visible. Looking back from where he came, he saw that he'd been sitting on a massive black throne emblazoned with a black fist grasping at green rays. Looking forward, he was reminded as to his purpose..
Standing thirty feet above him on a black marble pedestal was a statue of his god, the one true god of hatred, fear, and tyranny.. Bane, the Black Lord.
Slowly he spoke the words as he reached up to cluch at his necklace..
"I am loyal."
Flexing his arms, his heavy bracers scraped against the armrests of the large stone chair he was sitting upon. His breast and legplates followed suit as he leaned forward to rise.
"What happened.. ?"
The lack of light however, did not mean a lack of sound.. The room was small, a mere arm's reach in each direction. Reaching up instinctively, he grasped at the necklace around his neck, it was.. The symbol of his god..
"Where am I?"
Sliding his gauntleted hand over the wall of the room, he felt at runes, but could find no purchase for a grip. Frustration was slowly building, he slammed his fist against the wall.. It did not give an inch..
"But .. I... I am loyal."
The runes he had felt burned with blinding green light, he closed his eyes as a loud explosion of shattering stones sounded before him and a whooshing of wind pulled swiftly at his body.
He opened his eyes, his vision was blurred, and slowly it cleared. The wall that had stood before him was strewn about the floor and the room was filled with a cloud of dust, swirling up towards the high ceiling.
As the dust settled in each direction, the black stone of the octagonal chamber became more visible. Looking back from where he came, he saw that he'd been sitting on a massive black throne emblazoned with a black fist grasping at green rays. Looking forward, he was reminded as to his purpose..
Standing thirty feet above him on a black marble pedestal was a statue of his god, the one true god of hatred, fear, and tyranny.. Bane, the Black Lord.
Slowly he spoke the words as he reached up to cluch at his necklace..
"I am loyal."
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