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The Journey to Beldin's Pass
Posted: 29 Dec 2004 01:13 PM |
*taken from the Journal of the Last Son*
I am Byron Lorian, and I am the Last Son. I must remember that, if only to recall who I am, and what I am away from.
It has been three weeks since I have seen Eliana. We spend time apart, more then I would like, but such things are unavoidable. I was in Icy Vale, slightly over three weeks past. Eliana was going to Ferein, and I was unable to accompany her. I spent the evening in idle pursuits of the sort I do not often indulge. A bard had come to the inn to perform, and I took the opportunity to listen to him. he made for a passable evenings enjoyment.
During a telling of “The Maiden’s Virtue,” a rather blue tale of a nature I will not put to paper that I probably enjoyed too much, several stocky men approached my table. They asked to join me, as the inn was full and the only open seats were next to me. I agreed, thinking the company would do me good. At first the men sat quietly listening to the bard tell his lurid tale. They laughed when appropriate, but they sounded forced. When the tale was finished, the largest man grinned at me, “Thank you, good sir, for allowin’ us to sit with you. Let me buy you a drink.”
I accepted the man’s generosity, and soon we each had a glass. It did not take long for several empty bottles of whiskey to appear. I sipped on my whiskey, to be polite, but I had no interest in drinking heavily. The others, however, did not share my restraint. “Tomorrow we leave.” said the largest of the men. He had already introduced himself as Har, “We go to the mountains along an ancient and unknown path.”
I could tell the drink impaired Har’s judgment, and the more sober of his men looked at him with concern. Har continued, ignoring his men’s warning glances, “Yup, we’re headed to find gold. I got it on good word that a vein of gold is up on them hills.” Har looked at me appraisingly. “You seem to have a strong arm, lad. We need someone to give our little band some protection.” Har’s men looked put out, and one even spoke up in protest. “Now, don’t worry, lads, I ain’t gonna offer him a share of the gold. Just a wage for helping us fight off the beasties that live in the high places of the world.”
I hesitated to tell Har that I had been to the high places of the world, there seemed to be little point. My journey with Eliana and Luther was of a personal matter, and not something I wanted to share openly. I started to tell the men that I was not a mercenary, and my sword was not for hire. Har ignored me and continued to talk about the journey. “We're headed fer the Divider Chain. But we ain’t gonna go the normal route, ya see. There’s a path that’ll lead us to a old place, called Beldin’s Pass.” I gave up trying to explain myself to Har, and allowed him to continue talking. There was no need, I thought, to be rude by leaving, or by telling him to be silent. I would let him tell his tale, then I would wish them luck before retiring.
Har continued, “Beldin’s Pass is a dangerous route, lads. Few have been up that way and lived to tell the tale. But you all know that we got an advantage, eh?” Har smiled at me with a twinkle in his eyes. An advantage? I wondered. What does he mean?
Before I could ask, Har prodded me in the shoulder, “I bet you’re wondering what I mean, lad. Well, you look an honest sort.” Har rummaged around in his pack and withdrew a battered scroll case. The men at the table gasped as he opened the case and withdrew worn map. He spread it on the table and pointed to the faded markings where “Beldin’s Pass” was marked. “Here,” he whispered, “is Beldin’s Pass. And here,” he pointed to a marking slightly beyond Beldin’s Pass, “is the ore. The map doesn’t lie, lad.”
I could not restrain my curiosity. “Where did you get this?”
“I got it from the body of a man in the mountains.” he said in a matter-of-fact fashion. “I figured he didn’t need it anymore, eh?” Har chuckled heartily and took another belt of whiskey. He wiped his bearded mouth and continued. “It’s and old map, but no one round here knows of this Bendin’s Pass, so I am thinkin’ it’s a secret.” It sounded reasonable, if anyone knew the passes of the mountains, it would be the residents of Icy Vale. If no one here knew of it, then it may very well be a secret.
I noticed another symbol located between Beldin’s Pass and the fabled ore deposit. “What’s that?” I asked.
“That, lad, I think it’s an ancient shrine of some kind. My dwarvish friend here,” he pointed to a squat dwarf sitting at the opposite side of the table, “says that his grandpappy thinks it’s some ancient human shrine. How old did your grandpappy say it was?
The dwarf spoke up, “Grandpappy said thousands of years old, but age is addling his head.”
Thousands of years old…could it be what I am looking for? Har told me they were departing in the morning, and I quickly agreed to go with them. My heart leapt in my chest, perhaps this shrine held a relic of ancient Aristi. Perhaps it held what I so desperately sought.
That was three weeks ago…I hold no such hope now.
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My name is Byron Lorian....I am the Last Son |
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The Ascent to Beldin's Pass
Posted: 29 Dec 2004 02:58 PM |
((I’ve taken significant liberty with timeframes here, both the three weeks the story encompasses and the season it takes place in.))
Byron sat with his back against the rock wall near the enterance to the cave the party had found shelter in. Large, lazy flakes of snow fell slowly to the ground around him. He was hunched over a medium sized leather bound book, his styllus methodically passing over the paper as he wrote. “Byron!” came the gruff voice from inside the cave. Byron did not hear and kept writing. “Byron!” shouted the voice. Byron continued to write, oblivious to the call.
“BYRON!”
Byron’s head shot up to meet Har’s gaze. He was annoyed, Byron could tell, but he did not let it show in his voice. “Come on, lad, it’s time to try the Pass.”
“Are you sure about this, Har,” questioned Byron. “The snow just started. It could get worse.”
“This’ll pass,” said Har, looking up at the sky. “It ain’t the season for heavy snow. Spring time soon, ya know.”
“I know, Har, but I do not like the look of this…”
Har gave Byron a comradely slap on the shoulder, “You don’t know mountains like I do, lad. Trust me, we’ll be fine.”
Byron stood and tucked away his journal, “You’re always writing in that thing,” observed Har, “What about?”
“It is nothing, Har,” smiled Byron, “Personal thoughts, reflections…no great stories. I am no bard.”
Har laughed heartily and went back into the cave. Byron followed and began gathering his gear. If Har said the snow would pass, then it would pass. Har was, after all, more a mountain man then Byron would ever be. He folded the letter he had written to Eliana neatly and put it into his journal. He had already sent her one letter, and there was no way to send her this one. He felt it important to write, though he could not explain why.
Byron put the thought out of his head and went about in earnest gathering his gear. His companions of six weeks followed suit. Murdak, the stout dwarf with the addled grandpappy, was the first to be ready to go. This was not unusual, Byron found Murdak to be rather grating at times in his demand for punctuality and discipline. But as the unofficial second in command to Har, Byron often had no choice to but to tolerate the dwarf's eccentricities. "Come on there, Byron," Murak bellowed, "put your back into it. It'll be winter again before we leave if you keep that pace!"
Byron sighed and redoubled his packing efforts. He waited wordlessly for Murdak's next criticism, but the dwarf had gone on to harass Terna.
Terna was nearly as wide as he was tall, yet he still was not as large as Har seemed to be. He carried a broad battle axe with him and have proven himself to be quite capable with it. He did not speak much, and Byron learned early on in the journey not to engage Terna in conversation. The burly man had glared at Byron after being asked how he was fairing, and since then, he and Byron had not exchanged more then two words. He had, however, learned to trust Terna’s axe. It has saved Byron’s neck on more then one occasion, engendering significant respect for the warrior.
Pel was a mousy sort, short to the point of looking almost like a halfling. His biting wit was often directed in Terna’s direction, probably because Pel knew that Terna would never do anything in retaliation. Byron had so far avoided Pel’s attention, and he was glad for it. The little man was fast with his daggers however, and equally skilled with his light crossbow. As with the others, Byron had learned to respect the dedication Pel had to his companions, for despite his sarcastic nature, Pel always put the group before himself.
Once packed, the party set forth. Har, the leader of the intrepid bunch, asked Philip for a song. Byron had grown to like Philip rather quickly, the young man’s quick wit and bright outlook struck a cord in Byron’s heart. Philip’s lively tenor filled the air, and for a while, the small group forgot about the gathering cold.
It had been three weeks since he had seen Eliana. Byron hoped she had received his letter. He sent a silent prayer to the greater good asking for safe passage through Beldin's Pass and a quick return to her. But the dark clouds on the other side of the mountain pass had other plans, and Byron was about to find out just how wrong Har was about the snow, the expedition, and even his companion's intentions. |
My name is Byron Lorian....I am the Last Son |
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The undead of Beldin's Pass
Posted: 29 Dec 2004 04:07 PM |
They climbed the Pass, and for awhile the clouds appeared to be clearing. Byron walked behind the group when Philip fell in along side him. “Byron,” whispered Philip, “I need your help. We are in danger.”
Byron looked to Philip quizzicly, “What is it, Philip?”
Philip motioned to the rest of the party. “Last night, I heard Terna talking in his sleep.” Byron raised his eyebrows, he had never heard a word or sound out of Terna, whether he was awake or asleep. He continued to stare ahead as Philip spoke, “I know, I know…he is a quiet one. But…”
Byron looked to Philip and was shocked to see his face pale. Worry lines, normally hidden, were marked deeply on the youth’s face. “Go on,” urged Byron, “what happened?”
“He…” Philip ran a hand through his bushy red hair. “He….”
Byron paused and put a comforting hand on Philip’s shoulder. “Come on now,” he smiled at his friend, “you can tell me. What did he say?”
Philip whispered as if the words burned his mouth and he needed to spit them out quickly, “He was praying to the Dark One, Byron. To Gukathul….I think he is the one that gave Har the map. I think we are being lead up here as a sacrifice.”
Surprise crossed Byron’s face, and he was about to respond when he heard Har shouting from ahead. “Hurry up, you two. Come see this!”
Byron and Philip glanced at one another and hurried to meet Har. “What is it?” asked Byron as he approached.
“That.” Byron followed Har’s gaze towards a pile of dead bodies. There were roughly twenty bodies, as far as Byron could tell, stacked in an disorderly pile. The burned out husks of several wagons were nearby.
“What do you think happened,” asked Byron.
“They got themselves killed, o’ course,” quipped Pel without his usual light heartedness.
“This is not good,” mumbled Philip as he glanced at Byron. “Not good at all.”
Terna said nothing as he strode away from the group towards the bodies. “Come back here, laddie,” barked Murdak, but to no avail. Terna approached the bodies warily and extended his massive axe. He poked them several times before turning around.
“It is safe,” he bellowed, his dark skin placing him in stark contrast to the white snow. “We should see if there are any supplies.” Terna frowned when his companions did not immediately approach. “Come on then!” he shouted, “Why do you not move?”
Pel set his crossbow with lighting fast precision as Har and Byron hefted their swords. A trembling Philip slowly raised his arm and pointed towards Terna. “U….un….un…”
“I see, Philip,” said Byron calmly. “Undead.” The pile of bodies behind Terna began to stir, but the large man did not seem to notice. Philip nodded to Byron; no words needed to be spoken. The undead did not attack Terna, in fact, the seemed to specifically avoid him.
“Har,” said Murdak tersely, “we need to go. Now.”
Har nodded, “Hurry then,” he spat, and the part rushed towards the undead “Watch out there, Terna,” shouted Murdak. The giant of a man turned around and noticed the undead for the first time. Terna ran towards Murdak. “They’re the other way, ya daft human!” shouted Murdak upon seeing Terna running away.
“Maybe so, my short friend,” gasped Terna when he reached Murdak. He turned around to face the advancing undead, “But I will not fight them alone.”
Byron took only a moment to gauge the strength of the undead before charging into the melee. The battle was brutal, and very soon the small party was standing alone with the undead vanquished.
Philip moved next to Byron after the battle. He pointed to Terna and whispered, “Terna…they did not attack him.” Byron nodded, he had noticed that also. Terna was speaking to Har and Murdak about twenty feet away. Philip spoke again, “Har will not believe us. He, Murdak, and Terna are old friends. I am new," Philip motioned around him, "to this. I do not know what to do.”
“They may be in league,” whispered Byron, but that did not make sense. Why would they have fought the undead with such ferocity? Why did Terna fight them? Did he realize the truth was about to be exposed and decided it was time to hold back? Or was this part of some grander, more sinister plot?
“Stay close to me,” whispered Byron, “and we will find out what is happening here.” He smiled at Philip, “Do not worry, my friend. We will find out what is going on here.” Philip smiled weakly and nodded.
The clouds darkened, and the wind began to pick up. A storm was coming, but not just of snow and ice. On the frozen earth of Beldin’s Pass, a reckoning was fast approaching, one that would spell either life, or death, or unlife, to each in the small party. |
My name is Byron Lorian....I am the Last Son |
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Betrayal at Beldin's Pass
Posted: 30 Dec 2004 12:16 PM |
The wind howled through the pass, penetrating the clothing and biting into the flesh of everyone in the party. Byron shivered and looked behind him. There was more snow than there had been before, he noted with no small amount of worry, and the party’s tracks were already covered. At the front of the party he saw Har and Murdak foraging ahead. Terna and Pel followed them closely. Byron and Philip brought the rear; Byron because had been assigned rearguard by Murdak, and Philip because he was having difficulty keeping to the center of the party. Also, Byron suspected, because the young bard did not want to be close to Terna.
Byron dropped to one knee to help the fallen Philip up. “Come on now,” Byron shouted over the wind, “We’re doing fine. How much further can it be?”
Philip nodded grimly and allowed Byron to help him up. The two turned to follow the group, but saw only the intense white of the blizzard. “Where are they?” shouted Philip. “Har! Murdak! Terna!”
Byron shook the snow off of the makeshift bandanna he made to warm his head. “I don’t know,” he shouted back. His voice was taken almost instantly by the bitter wind. “We had better go ahead!”
Philip shouted, but his voice was completely lost. He nodded his agreement, and the two companions trudged ahead towards where they suspected Har, Murdak, and Terna had gone.
They rounded a rocky outcropping and found some shelter from the wind. Byron and Philip rested against the rock face. “Wait a minute,” Philip said, “What is this?” Moving Byron aside, Philip approached a crack in the wall just big enough for a man. Fresh footprints led inside.
“Maybe they took cover in there,” suggested Byron. Philip looked blankly at Byron. He wants me to take the lead sighed Byron. He is just a child. I should have expected this. He looked at the crack. “It is unstable,” he pointed to the large, loose rocks above the opening. “It may collapse as any moment.
Philip looked at Byron helplessly. I have no choice. Byron squared his shoulders and started towards the crack. “We go in.”
Byron entered first with his sword drawn. The small crack opened to a much larger cavern. Byron looks up, then to both sides. He knew little of caves, but even he could tell this was not natural. “Where are we?” came Philip’s voice from behind.
“I do not know,” said Byron, his voice echoing in the cave. The room was rectangular with a passage on each wall. The floor was unnaturally smooth and, upon closer inspection, was dotted with faint circular runes. “Someone built this,” declared Byron. “It is not natural.”
“Who?” asked Philip immediately.
Byron took several tentative steps into the room. He wished Eliana were there; her ability to find traps was sorely needed. “Stay sharp.”
The sound of clanging armor in the distance gave Byron direction. “That must be them.” Byron started down the left passage only to notice Philip was not following him. “Come on, Philip, it is this way.”
Philip stared down the center passage. “We need to go this way,” he said and quickly ducked into the passage.
“Philip, what are you doing!” Byron rushed after Philip, muttering a mild curse. What was that boy thinking, running off alone like that? Byron looked down the passage Philip had entered. A long corridor stretched straight and down for several meters. There was no sign of Philip. Byron looked back into the main room and frowned. Where was he?
Byron began walking down the passage he saw Philip enter. The passage became steeper the further he went, but it never deviated from a straight path. He tried to be mindful for traps even though he knew it to be a useless gesture. Eliana, where are you he thought, and with each step he expected to find a hidden trip wire or secret floor plate that would trigger any manner of deadly device.
After what seemed like an hour of walking, the narrow corridor gave way to a large chamber. A dome carved of the very rock rose approximately twenty-five meters into the air. The chamber itself seemed carved with exacting precision, giving the cave a somewhat unnatural look
Neither the high dome nor the intricately carved statues sculpted into the walls caught Byron’s attention as much as what was in the center of the room. Har and Murdak had their arms held aloft by shackles around their wrists and chains connected to the ceiling. Thick chains and shackles bond their feet. Both were unconscious.
A shadowed figured stood behind the two prisoners. Terna, thought Byron bitterly. The figure was hunched over what looked to Byron like an alchemy table. Byron made it a point not to learn too much about necromancy, but he remembered a similar table from his visit to the arch-lich’s lair in the Kobai desert. This was the table of a necromancer.
Byron drew his sword. He did not know where Philip was, or for that matter, where Pel had gotten himself off to. He did know that he had to free Har and Murdak if he hoped to escape. The clangs of his armor echoed down the corridor as Byron stepped into the room. “That is enough, Terna!” he shouted and hoped he sounded more menacing then he felt. The figure straightened, and for the first time Byron saw the full length of the table. A body lay on the table. No, not a table, Byron paled as the full length of the “table” was revealed. An altar
Terna lay flat against the alter. An incision extended from the base of his pelvis to his neck. Small protrusions from the altar were threaded with cord that held the skin wide open in a cruel vivisection. Various body parts were strewn around the altar, and the acrid smell of fresh blood and sweat was heavy in the air. A familiar voice filled the room. “You came, Byron. I suppose I am pleased, but you are not necessary for what I have done.”
Byron peered at the shadowed figured. He knew the voice, but it couldn’t be! The voice continued, “Do not worry, Byron. Since you are not necessary, I will not cut you like the animal you are. But since you have come this far, you should know that I cannot let you live.” The shadowed figure threw off a dark cloak, and Byron could not contain a sharp gasp.
The creature before him had Philip’s face, but half of his body was skeletal. Philip extended a bony arm towards Byron. “Do not be surprised, knight,” he rasped. “I am what I always have been.” Philip looked down at the body of Terna. “You believed me, didn’t you? When I told you it was him. I did not lie in one thing, Byron.” Byron stared, gripping his sword tightly. "There was a servant of Gukathul in our midst:“
Byron could not help but to speak, “But the undead…they did not attack Terna.”
Philip laughed. “You did not stop to think that my children were instructed not to attack this one?” Philip lowered his skeletal arm and grasped a long machete buried deep in Terna’s gut. “I needed to gain your trust, you see.” He pulled, and the machete came free with a sickeningly squish. Terna’s groaned, and to Byron’s horror, turned his head to face Byron.
Hellfire cursed Byron, He is still alive.
“R….Run.” Terna gasped.
Philip glided from the altar; gore dripping from his curved knife. Byron took an involuntary step back. He knew he could not defeat Philip; the pale master was simply too powerful. “Accept it, Byron, you will die today. But...." he pauses, a thin smile crossing his face, "I like you. You were kind to me when others were not.” Philip continued walk smoothly towards Byron. “Maybe I will make you one of my spawn instead. Just like I did with Murdak and Har.” The chains holding Har and Murdak came loose, and the two prisoners crumpled to the floor.
“What did you do to them?” asked Byron. He was fully aware of his impotence, yet he could no bring himself to do what he knew he must. Honor demanded no less then to face and defeat the evil that confronted him. Or die trying.
Philip paused, “As I said, knight, they are my spawn now.” Har and Murdak straightened and turned to face Byron. Both had ragged cuts up their midsections that exposed their insides in gruesome fashion. The two men shambled towards Byron. They were slaves to this…whatever Philip was.
Byron readied his sword. I am sorry, Eliana he thought, and prayed that she could hear him. He would die before he was taken as an unwilling servant of Gukathul. If death was demanded of him now, then so be it.
A small voice whispered in the corner of his mind. Run Byron shook his head to clear it. He was hearing things, that had to be the problem. Har and Murdak, or what was left of them, were getting closer. Byron swung at them with more the intent to keep them at bay then cause any actual damage. The two undead spawn paused, uncertain of how to deal with such unconventional tactics.
Run! The voice was more insistent. At that moment, Terna lunged from the table and onto the floor. “Run, dang your eyes!” he shouted with renewed vigor. Philip and the two spawn turned towards Terna, who was holding his innards in with one arm. The large man stared defiantly at his former companions. “Come and get me, you filthy buggers!”
Philip motioned to his spawn, and Har and Murdak moved quickly towards Terna. RUN! the voice shouted, and Byron reacted on instinct. In an instant, he spun on his heal and started running back up the corridor, away from the chamber and towards the entrance. Philip raged after him, “You can not escape, Byron! I will have you!” Byron heard a thud, followed by the smacking sound of the undead feasting on the remains of Terna, but he did not look back.
It was not long before he heard the sounds of pursuit. Har and Murdak must have finished their meal, and they were after Byron. They sounded faster then they had initially seemed, and Byron was afraid he would not be able to outrun them. His lungs screamed for oxygen and his blood burned, but he continued to run, one foot in front of the other, to the surface.
Finally, Byron flew into the main chamber. He ran to the small crack that he and Philip had entered. The sound of Har and Murdak’s pursuit was growing louder, and the echoing shouts of Philip were as loud at the surface as they were in the depths.
Byron franticly scanned the area around the opening. The snow and wind had not stopped, if anything, they had increased in intensity. A sudden explosion drove Byron to his knees. He looked up, his eyes still blinded a bit by the flash, to see Murdak and Har at the far side of the main chamber. Har held a long red wand, which he was pointing at Byron.
Byron dodged, and the fireball exploded where Byron had been. Byron picked himself up as the undead spawn advanced. He gasped for air, and his muscles screamed in protest. He raised his sword and brought it down in a chopping motion with all his strength. To his surprise, the blade cleaved Murdak’s skull in half. Brain matter and black ichor splattered onto Byron’s armor from what was left of Murdak’s head, and his body crumpled.
Byron quickly withdrew his sword and faced the remaining spawn. Har dropped the wand and drew his curved blade. The two circled one another, each looking for an opening in the other's defense. Byron glanced at the discarded wand. If only he could…There! Har attacked with a guttural scream, but Byron parried skillfully, causing the undead spawn to stumble headfirst into the far wall. Byron grabbed the discarded wand and ran towards the entrance. Har shook his head and looked around for his opponent. By then, Byron was outside.
Byron ran several meters from the entrance before turning and pointing the wand. He did not know how to use it, or if he even could, but he also knew that if he could not figure it out, Philip would come and make him a servant. Har appeared at the entrance, his mangled face dripping black ichor onto the fresh white snow.
A brilliant flash of light erupted from the wand, followed by a deafening explosion. But the fireball did not strike Har. Instead, the wands discharge struck the rocks above the entry way. The loose rocks surrounding the opening collapsed in the explosion, crushing Har and blocking the opening. The wand shattered in Byron’s hands.
The final rocks fell, sealing the entryway completely. Byron sheathed his sword and allowed his shoulders to sag a bit. What about Pel? he thought suddenly. He may have been in there.
His thoughts were cut short by a low rumbling. Byron looked at the rocks, but no more were falling. What is that? he wondered, but only for a moment. The white rush of the avalanche caught Byron by surprise, and he was swept away in a torrent of rock and snow. Byron was lifted off his feet and was carried down the mountain at an alarming rate. He traveled for almost two full minutes before he lost consciousness.
He awoke at dawn, shocked that he was not deeply buried and even more shocked that he was still alive. He gathered what was left of his gear, thankful his sword and shield had not gone too far, and began making his way down the mountain. It was not long before he found a familiar road. He was on the way home, and he was glad. On the journey, he could not help but wonder what happened to Philip. What about Pel? Had he died in the avalanche? Had Byron left Philip another victim?
Concern for Pel, and the memories of what happened, tormented Byron on his return journey. The evil still existed, but even Byron understood how futile a direct confrontation with Philip would have been. But if Pel was still in there....
He shook his head. He would have to find Pel, someday. But for now, he needed to find Eliana and Claudia. He needed his family, and he needed rest.
-The End- |
My name is Byron Lorian....I am the Last Son |
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Re: Betrayal at Beldin's Pass
Posted: 31 Dec 2004 05:39 AM |
((Wow that was brilliant .
- Sol )) |
- Solitaire, Wizard
- Ilyana Fiirhaart, High Priestess of Naruth |
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Re: Betrayal at Beldin's Pass
Posted: 31 Dec 2004 08:49 AM |
| ((*Gives it a good praise as well*)) |
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Re: Betrayal at Beldin's Pass
Posted: 31 Dec 2004 02:25 PM |
| ((I think he only made the story up!)) |
Purpose in life: finding better ways of allowing players to kill themselves. Repeatedly.
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"...Cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good."
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<@James42> Lawful good isn't in your vocabulary, it's on your menu.
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Re: Betrayal at Beldin's Pass
Posted: 31 Dec 2004 02:44 PM |
((I think he only made the story up!))
((Yeah, this isn't based on anything that happened in game. I was just looking for a good explination for Byron's absence from Vives over the holiday season.)) |
My name is Byron Lorian....I am the Last Son |
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Re: Betrayal at Beldin's Pass
Posted: 31 Dec 2004 03:51 PM |
| ((So? It was a cool story. ;P)) |
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Re: Betrayal at Beldin's Pass
Posted: 31 Dec 2004 08:20 PM |
((Yeah, this isn't based on anything that happened in game. I was just looking for a good explination for Byron's absence from Vives over the holiday season.))
((Never do anything halfway, do you, B?  Seriously though, this is just wonderful, as I've told you. Silly Phillip... I liked the little bugger, too.)) |
Consequences
Unsent
It's hard to say it, time to say it...
Goodbye, goodbye |
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Re: Betrayal at Beldin's Pass
Posted: 29 Jan 2005 03:28 PM |
| *BUMP for my benefit* |
Vives Screenshots!
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