Rafael asked me to post the intro for the upcoming new season of his legendary PbP:
21th day of Asum in the year 1032 of the Northern Calendar. Night.
Four years and two days after the conquest of Starmorgan by the forces of the Free Nations.
The kingdom of Blackmoor stands surrounded by enemies.
To the west, Westryn raiders and demons roam the plains of Hak.
Though they haven't yet dared to attack the rebuilding cities of New Duchy,
it's only a matter of time until Tenlish blood will be spilled again.
To the south,the forces of the tyrannical Great Kingdom have taken advantage
of the Free Nation's sudden weakness and are lying siege to Blackmoor's southern cities.
It might not be long, and even mighty Dragonia will fall.
And to the north, an icy stormwind over the sea, The Egg of Coot lets its armies advance.
The town of Blackmoor, destroyed.
The town of Glendower, burned by a raing of black fire.
The city of Maus, sunken into the sea and its citizens eaten alive by mermen
from the darkest depths of the shallow ocean.
A high prize is paid for the freedom of mankind.
A prize so high in blood that it seems unsure if the brave people
of the Northern Marches will be able to pay it much longer.
Blackmoor is in need of heroes.
Now more than ever.
The "Company of the Maiden" is summoned to the Kingdom of Blackmoor's
ancient capital, the city of Vestfold, by the prince regent himself.
Members of the old Imperial guard, the best of the North's remaining knights,
all cled in red armor, lead you into the great dining hall in the old king's
ancient city house, first erected by the time Vestfold's most perilous enemy
was not the Egg of Coot, but the devil-worshipping followers of the Id.
In the dining hall, lit only by the dim gloom of fresh candles,
three men sit around a big round table, made of the Druj Forest's best wood.
The red knights order you to remain standing and bring big and burning coal pans
to the table, so you can see who awaits you at this late hour.
However, you are surprised to find that none of the men sitting in front of you
is actually Prince Mordred:
Instead, you behold, from left to right:
Dressed in black, leaning backwards with his big boots on the table,
as if this wasn't the very royal throne room, but some wayside inn,
the famous rogue Rowell, called "The Blade".
Next to him, grinning from one ear to the other, Zuki,
your loyal travelling companion, and, so is the word, second one behind Rowell
in the criminal organization known as "The Coven".
On the higher seat usually reserved for the king of the Marches alone,
his face pale, yet his eyes narrow in anger and discomfort, bishop Garamond Bolitho,
highest-ranking cleric among the civilized people north of the Misauga river.
To the bishop's right, his hands weaving an invisible web into the thin air as he watches you
with the same fascination a spider would watch a fly approach its nest,
a figure paler and ghastlier than even Sir Garamond at this nightly hour.
It's seems it takes more to kill me than just the wrath of a bearman and two magic blades...
The figure next to bishop Garamond chuckles maliciously, as it leans forward its horned head,
and for a moment your blood in your very veins seems to freeze:
The fourth man sitting there on your own king's table is none but your old enemy,
the Westryn sorcerer Gorileth!
TO BE CONTINUED ON FEBRUARY 1st, 2010!
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