Scales Of War

The Chronicles of Kustaa, 001

Let's Get This Party Started

The imp was tolerant of it’s master’s grim mood as it reclined on the divine tome of the dead healer and watched the wizard gaze at the rising sun on the horizon while absently fingering a silvered longsword. The usual quips and sarcasm had been restrained throughout the retreat to the Feywild refuge while his master recovered from the recent ordeal of defending a city and the loss of trusted friends. Kustaa Lemminkainen, the war wizard, the battle mage, the last Hero of Overlook, turned from the tower window and gently placed the sword of General Zithiruun back into it’s scabbard and set it on the table. His eyes suspiciously remaining on the blade as he crossed the room to the sideboard to break his fast after a much needed session of meditation and reflection. Ember, the dragonborn warrior, struck down by Rathoraiax, the undead steed of that weapon’s previous owner while defending the city of Overlook. The absence of his sword arm and shield are truly felt. Myrca, the human priestess of Kord, who joined the others with him, also fell at the teeth and claws of that foul githyanki’s unholy dragon. Her courage and healing ways have not gone unnoticed. Dwarin, the dwarven druid, returned to his homeland across the sea after the battle and continues to baffle Kustaa as to how such a primal advocate could dislike the Feywild so much. A truly strange companion. Etton Roy, the human ranger, left Overlook quickly and quietly after the funerals wanting to retire and put the recent events behind him. The bitterness remains, but he was a great companion when the foes seemed too many. His otherworldly eyes return focus to the present. “Quidnunc, we have an appointment soon”, the mage says to the translucent imp in their own tongue, “let us ready ourselves for who has answered my summons.”



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