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[EM/ RP News] The Machine of Discord: Forgemaster

Discussion in 'UO Baja' started by WarderDragon, Mar 22, 2012.

  1. WarderDragon

    WarderDragon Babbling Loonie
    Stratics Veteran Alumni BRPA

    Oct 9, 2008
    Likes Received:
    The Machine of Discord: Forgemaster

    The hunt was on.

    We continued our search in the woods south of Castle Britannia, slugging through the mud as winters chill rain beat down on our mantles. Again reliant on the auguries and interpretations of the witch, we managed to track the man in white to the shores of the Eastern Sea.

    He stood there, barefoot in the biting rain, arrayed in his tattered and threadbare robes. But in spite of his humble appearance, something had changed about him. Our presence no longer troubled him as it did before. There was malevolence in his eyes, as he raised his hands to us, and offered to lead us into another trap.

    “Bring it, Old Man.”


    The wails of the dead numbered legion, the screams and moans of our wounded, as we descended the catacombs deep into the bowels of the earth. We overcame his augmented soldiers, men whose muscles bulged greater than was natural, and who felt no pain. We overcame the choking flames and the traps he had laid. And now, deep in the pit, in a hellish forge that might as well have been born from the mind of the Poet, we would our mark and his captor.

    Ren, apparently resistant to the serums mind altering properties, had been bound to his forge, and made to create weapons and armor for his captors hellish armies, like some maimed Vulcan. Seeing our number enter, the man whom we dubbed “Ebon” mocked us, and in the trite monologues most villains are known for, began to rail on about our imminent doom. The Forgemaster's job was done.

    With a chilling smirk, the Man in White, whom we had not noticed before, approached Ren, needle in hand. No one lifted a finger to stop what was about to transpire.

    Ren screamed. His flesh bubbled and burst. His eyes surged forth from their sockets. The muscled in his arms swelled beyond their measure, and grew thick and corded as oak. Snatching up a pair of warhammers, made to be wielded in two hands, he smashed his chains, and lunged at us. He was no longer the quiet, humble man he had been, but a thunderous god, some abomination of science and demonology. Many fell to his hammers, while others were swallowed up as the cavernous forge began to collapse inward on us. The crucible fell, flames leapt up and gutted the beams holding the roof up. Death was everywhere.

    And out slipped Ebon and the Man in White.