Army Fluff The Constellation of the Desert, Suhulia's Tale.

Great descriptions, gives the feeling of the time passing. Very intriguing plot turn at the end.

 

Thanks man, I really appreciate your feedback. Took a small break from painting and writing, but I'm back in it! I recently started playing D&D and I was wondering how it would be play D&D in the setting I'm creating with Suhulia's Tale...

 

As a player character or as the DM?

 

Started playing a regular campaign as a halfling rogue, a player. But I love storytelling so much, I'd love to be a DM. I've been watching the Geek & Sundry Critical Role show since a week or two, and I really like the sheer possibilities of the game. And the Warhammer universe ;-)

 

It is great for ideas, and this would make for a great campaign (so far) For DM tips I like http://spoonyexperiment.com/counter-monkey/counter-monkey-dungeon-mastering-a-great-game/
And he has more videos that kind of help DMs and players, as well as some entertaining RP related stories.

 

The duke hesitated for a moment, rising up and looking towards his compatriots and the Feathered One. This intimidating creature, that had guided them through the desert with such strength of will and knowledge, lay down in a very deep bow, leaving Sangfroid to wonder just how fearful he should be of the throned seer. Walking up the stairs, he felt the magic in the room intensifying, a nauseating set of vibrations piercing his stomach. He still couldn’t make much of the seer in front of him, but the resemblance of a hand was calling him closer still. As Charles d’ Sangfroid stopped in front of the throne, the magical barrier around the seer rippled as a reptilian hand reached out to him. The duke didn’t move as the creature in front of him touched his arm with a single finger.

Instantly, a rush of energy flowed through Sangfroid’s body, overloading and shutting down his senses. His first reflex was to scream out in pain, but no sound was uttered, nor could he move his limbs. Giving in to whatever magic coming over him, he closed his eyes, vivid images appearing in front of them. He saw the birth of the world, of chaos, of his own kind. While pictures of vicious battles fought out over the ages ran, Sangfroid didn’t just see death, he experienced it. He saw the illustrious cities of the lizards all over the world, how their culture had fed the world and nurtured his own kind from illiterate brutes to the humankind he knows today. As the seer released his grasp, the duke fell to his knees, gasping for air.

“You have grown, human, yet for all your curiosity and recklessness, you still haven’t achieved anything in this world. The Plan dictated you be nurtured and enkindled, yet we have concluded this has failed. Chaos and Undeath loom on your borders, yet you prefer petty infighting. We have been deliberating for a long time whether it is time for humanity to be terminated.” A silence followed, many a Bretonnian left with their mouths open at what happened to their duke. “We see an alternative, however. How remarkable it is that you have decided to carve your own path, foregoing the vices many of your kind desire, to strive towards a goal much aligned with ours. We do not know how you determined which enemy to target, and we have learned that neither did you. We feel it is appropriate you carry on your path, with our help. If you prove to be a true paragon for humanity, we might reconsider.”

As soon as the seer utters his last words in the mind of Sangfroid, the hall fills with loud, rhythmic drumming. The Feathered One rises up, ushering the confused Bretonnians out of the hall, Sangfroid following in his steps. There is tension, but purpose in the halls, as many lizards come rushing out from the sides of the corridor they came through earlier, a disciplined stream of bodies going downwards. The lizards, gathered in full force in the hall, displayed a stunning spectacle of color. Their skin was colored like the sand, one darker than the other, but their piercing purple scales and adorned feathers added a brilliance to their gathering that left the Bretonnians in awe. As the drumming stopped, several feathered ones appeared, each of them rising on a platform. Seemingly in deep concentration, several portals were channeled – a magical feat Sangfroid had only seen once in his entire life, and even then it took several mages to forge just one. The feathered one that had been guiding them turned towards the Bretonnians, reaching out one of his hand. A small jolt of magic rippled out in front of him, and every Bretonnian – chef to trained knight – was filled with an unholy, bloodthirsty rage. The duke saw his men clutching his weapons, their eyes turning a bright red, a rumbling roar rising up from his company. Grabbing his sword out of his sheath, even Sangfroid himself felt his blood boil, and he cried out. “Men, it is do or die. We fight, for the King, for the Lady of the Lake – for Bretonnia!”. As the portals took form and lizards were streaming through them, Sangfroid and his men charged forward with a massive battle cry, into the unknown.

With a flash, the duke and his men were thrown into absolute carnage, as they landed into what seemed a massive army of Skaven rats. The Bretonnians saw a large, purple monster with a white saurian on their back jump over them, its landing and vicious bites instantly ending the lives of a dozen enemies. As a screeching rat stormed towards a confused Sangfroid, he instinctively struck out with his sword, decapitating the creature. To his left, he saw with a quick glance that Marcel d’Autrigny, a young page scared of his own shadow, was finally wielding his longsword with absolute mastery. Unlike the many training sessions, he remembered how to parry and strike out at the opportune time. François Markel, arguably one of the worst archers in the entire Bretonnian army, had just planted two arrows in the middle of a rat forehead. Honoré de Boursel, his personal chef, was wielding his shortsword like a butcher’s knife, carving the oncoming enemies with a precision usually reserved for onions and leek. Through one of the portals, in flash, a massive four legged lizard appeared, adorned with horns and a massive howdah on its back. As it stomped forward, many rats were crushed under its hooves, while a big swing with his horns swept a couple of them off their feet. As the rats tried to swarm up the side of the behemoth, the small nimble lizards on its howdah were peppering them with javelins. Three giants teleported in, similar to the one the Bretonnians encountered earlier in the market, were carrying maces and halberds. Going head to head with the ogre sized rats, the reptiles just tore them apart, mace, claws and teeth sunk deep into the vile flesh.

Sangfroid fought with an unseen ferocity, but it seemed like simple target practice to him. Parry, parry, lunge, strike – disengage. The sounds of chaos and battle were subdued, as he heard the finest music from the King’s court play in his head. A burst of warpfire brought the chaos back, as he felt the burning ooze eat away at his arm and armor. Biting through the horrendous pain, he struck out towards the creature, cutting open one of the tubes, spilling the vile liquid on its carrier. As a large saurian pierced through its back with a halberd, it collapsed instantly. The burn on his left arm intensified, eating away at his flesh, bringing him nearly to a faint. As a fever struck, Sangfroid clenched his sword in his right arm and kept lashing out like a madman, taking down foe after foe. Sweating profusely, he stumbles, falling to his knees, planting his sword in one more rat, before losing consciousness in the middle of the battlefield.

 

poor bretonnians... always fighting against crazy odds.

 

That was my favorite bit!

 

Suhulia's Tale is nearing an end, but I feel a spin-off coming for monsieur Honoré.

 

Awesome story so far Really looking forward to more!