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Blast of Genius

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It seemed they had it. They, being those do-gooders aways getting in the way, stopped my lava beasts from emerging and opened the door to freedom, but one last of my beloved remain. There, heading up the pack was my ever troublesome pawn, Belthir. His betrayal was still like ash in my mouth. Insolence has it's price, and he was about to meet it.


With only one Chaos Beast remaining, I bid him to meet Belthir where he stood. Bubbling and twisting there was mass of flesh, lazily taking on a crud form of my two timing dragon hybrid. Though the blow was powerful (10 damage after defiance), it wasn't enough, so I probed it with a sharp anger. Blood rushed through it's body and it attacked with haste. This time Belthir was ready and blocked well (4 points of damage after defiance) but not without it's sting. Without a moment of reprieve, that twisted mirror of the dragon struck again. It was far from stranth of the first hit, but Belthir had nothing to parry it with due to his injuries (another 7 damage and only one defiance). Both fell from their wounds, but victory was mine all the same.


His crime had been payed. He knew his master could not be thwarted again.


~An exert from "The Wyrm Turns" played with four heroes.



Something I have noticed is there is very little GOOD things said for the OL. Heroes cry OP and OL cry they don't have a good experience when playing. For me, I have never had more fun with a game. I want to hear some stories. They don't have to be written like the one above. I just love writing and I see these games in pictures as they are happening.


Besides, the OL need a good pat on the back. Being evil is hard! Having your friends hate everything you do for a span of several hours can be demoralizing. So us OL need to stick together! Lets relish in each other's victories and tell some good stories so we can all learn from one another. Trust me, I have allot more from where this one comes from, and would love to shair them!


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The time had come.

The Old World was crumbling down, rotten at its roots and too weak to be saved.

The Baronies of Daqan had made their time, the corruption of their leaders had weakened their society, their blind little wars against each other had soaked the land in blood.

Mankind, in its madness, had hunted down and slaughtered everything that was wild and fierce and glorious.

"Monsters", they called them.

The dragons and their kin were on the brink of extinction.

Even the orcs, who had been living peacefully in those lands for generations, had been attacked and decimated with no mercy.

It was time.

It all began with a song, and a tale.

A tale of courage, valor and sacrifice.

It was the story of the Shadow Binders, and of the destruction of the Last great menace: the banishing of Dragonlord Gryvorn into the Shadow Realm.

It all began with a tale, and a man.

A man that saw that the end was near.

He saw all the misery and madness of this era.

He saw everything, and decided to put an end to it.

He had the key to unlock the gate of unlimited power, to bind the strenght of the not-yet-vanished Dragonlord to his will, and he had the strenght to do what had to be done.

He saw the rise of a new power.

He saw the return of the Elder-kins.

He saw war, embracing the whole Old World like a purifying fire and engulfing it into the flames of ruin and rebirth.

He saw peace, under the rule of One.

His time had come, and Zacareth the Great was ready.

[from the Memories of baron Zacareth, chapter 1]

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[also known as "The Man Who would be King-part1]


Leoric as Runemaster

Jain as Wildlander

Avric as Disciple

Grisban as berserker

Warlord overlord (magus for the whole campaign, switched over to Warlord during the ritual of shadows just before the finale) with a touch of Punisher)

-Master, they have breached the gate!

They're here, the Four Champions are in the castle!

-This is impossible!

For a moment even the Overlord, the soon-to-be Ruler of All, Baron Zacareth, was caught unprepared and lost his confidence.

But it was nothing more than an eyeblink, and immediately he started to impart orders with his calm, majestic tone.

Reinforcements were sent to help the sentinels at the gate, and they were led by Sir Alric Farrow, the unstoppable wielder of the Duskblade, and his personal guards.

Splig would have probably needed all the help and all the reinforcements they could muster.

Meanwhile, Lady Eliza and Lord Merick followed Zacareth the Great towards the throne Hall for the completing of the Ritual.

Even if somehow the so-called "Heroes" had managed to reach Castle Talon, Zacareth could clearly foresee that it was already too late: he needed just a little more time, and he knew the time he had was enough.

He just hoped that the filthy mercenary with no honour, that Belthir, wouldn't have betrayed him: now he had to rely on the coward King of All Goblins to get him the Crown, a task made harder by the betrayal of the Hybrid.

But still, even this was just a minor annoyance, and he swept aside that thought with a quick gesture of the hand. He had now to settle much more important matters.

The ritual had to be completed.



Grisban encouraged his comrades with a mighty roar and rushed over the ruins of the same gate they just torn apart with a rather impressive show of power from Leoric. Leoric himself followed, grinning from ear to ear, eager to put an end to Zacareth madness and to have a little fun in the meanwhile. After him came Avric, with his hand raised and glowing with holy light and with a much more serious look of determination and focus on his face. Last came Jain, jumping gracefully over the debris and corpses, her Bow of the Sky in her left hand.

As soon as the entered the hallway a familiar sense of void and ancient evil hit them. They knew what they were facing: Sahdow dragons. Behind them they spotted him: Splig was desperately trying to open a door, clutching the Iron Crown in his plumpy hands. "Stop them!" He screeched.

Five seconds later the dragons were mincemeat.

Splig managed to get on the other side of the door, closing it shut and dashing away.

In the distance sir Alric was approaching, and the goblin cohorts came running down the hallways in a desperate effort to turn the tide of battle.

They almost made it in time to rescue poor Splig.


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Our gates are torn apart.

Our outern defenses have been overrun.

Our lines are broken.

They are almost here.

[breaths deeply]

We will make our last stand here, let them come.

-Eliza Farrow, Zacareth throne room, thoughts before the last battle.


-Captain Quintus Longshield, Arhynn's border, thoughts before the last battle.


The heroes were ready. With the Iron Crown, the mage led the way. The others stood in formation around him.

"Welcome!" Echoed Zacareth deep and charming voice. "You arrived just in time for my coronation" he added, and the aura of power and regality that surrounded him was awe-inspiring.

The heroes shuddered, but their force of will held, and they didn't bend their knees. Instead, they charged in.

Bolstered by the cleric's divine fury, bolts of energy darted out of the mage's rune inscribed staff, burning hapless zombies. The dwarf, wielding his dragontooth hammer, unleashed a whirlwind of attacks, wiping out other ghouls. A black arrow from the archer brought down the last one. The undead wall was gone.

Now it was the nagas turn, but they failed in dealing relevant damage even with the help of Eliza, and the serpents fell shortly after. With an incredible heroic feat the priest brought back the whole fellowship to full health. Things started to look grim for the overlord.

But the Dark Lord was not finished yet. Another wave of nagas arrived as reinforcements while zombies began to crawl back from their graves. One of the snakes fell into a Blood Rage and finally brought the priest to his doom, feeding the Overlord BloodLust. Finally, Jain fell under a spell from Eliza and, Dark-Charmed, ran away from her friends, right into the monsters' jaws.

Zacareth himself was now in a good position to strike and aimed at the archer to deliver her the killing blow. The bold fell short, and the heroes had their chance to strike back.

After a few moments of battle Zacareth was badly wounded and so was Eliza, and all other monsters were dead, blasted away.

But it was not enough. The Dark Lord had yet another chance to bring them all down (they were all badly injured now), and in his Frenzy he seemed unstoppable. Yet he was not. For some reason his blows missed the heroes, who were protected by some god from above...

It seemed like it was the end.

And in that moment, I, Lord Merick Farrow, took my turn into the spotlight. I dashed forward, reached their formation, and Ignited, blasting them away! what a Mighty, Critical Blow! sending two of them to meet their fate and the third to the very brink of death, I sealed their doom.

And yet, the dwarf raised his head, spit blood on us, and in a last effort crawled forward, raising his pointed, bloodied hammer. For vengeance, for freedom. Zacareth was now too weak to survive another blow.but, guess what? The Wicked never Rest, and as soon as he started to move, I was moving as well, blocking his path.

Sooo sorry Gimli.

And the Dark Lord and his friends lived happily ever after.


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