The start of a campaign

[Icarusvogel]

The introduction of my in-development campaign, Fire's Whispering, set in the end of the era often called "post-wesnoth".


The sun threw its glittering rays over the prospering city of Weldyn, reflecting on roofs still dripping from the last rain shower. Weldyn's streets, pulsing with life, were filled with the smells that fill abodes that great – sweat, dung, and the laden smell of perfume meant to purge the putrid reek of the sewers from the city's streets. Noises filled the roads and alleys: shouts, the rumbling of cartwheels, the barking of dogs, the rhythmic beat of a wardrum accompanied by the slow, repetitive clash of armored feet marching on paved streets – the heartbeat of the city. Who should notice her, a young girl running through the streets, her slim figure slipping from alley to alley, her feet, clad in linen shoes nearly soundless in the gutter. A ribbon of red hair fell from under hood, then the hood slipped from her head as she quickened her pace, and the hair that had been trapped under it streamed out, blowing in the wind like raging flames. Soldiers turned their mailclad heads as she ran past them, past countless shops, stands and houses.
Then, with a quick glance that nobody was watching her anymore, she entered a small shop and finally vanished from sight."

Like it?

[Vladcara]

Very good. Nice and dramatic. One question: What's the campaign about?

[Icarusvogel]

The story about Devra and a character still nameless, who... shall I really give the story away?

[Vladcara]

Not if you don't want to. Just curious, that's all.

[Icarusvogel]

Oh well. I'll give the core:
Devra gains great pyromancic power during a forbidden ritual.
But she is caught, and fragged to Weldyn Prison, where she awaits her death at dawn.
But she manages to escape with her cellmate, an edgewalker about as insane as she is.
Together, the two lunatics attempt to bring the revolution to the land and attempt to create a new Wesnoth...

It ends with the fall of post-wesnoth, and the beginning of the Third Age.

The end of the second last scenario I can also give to you:

A feeble twitch of might.
A spark that grew to form a ribbon, a ribbon that expanded to a ring of magic surrounding the deserted spellcaster on the hill.
And the power surged forth from her body, over the whole battlefield, over Weldyn, over the land of Wesnoth, writhing and pulsing with an irregular heatbeat.
The heartbeat of fire.
The heartbeat of ancient, forgotten lore.
The heartbeat of the very soul of magic.
The soldiers could feel the terrible energy that the pyromage's hands emitted, rising to the suns, higher, and yet higher...
But they recovered, gripped the steel in their hands faster, and drove yet again against the dwindling forces of the edgewalkers and flamekin. Devra saw nothing of this. She chanted faster, her summons calling upon the ancient spirits of fire.
An orange light flared up in the sky, the warrior's heads turned to the pyromancer on the hill, standing upright with outstretched hands, her hair flattering in the wind like raging flames, her eyes closed and yet pulsing in a fiery orange, her lips moving swiftly as she brought the spell to its final stage.
A roaring noise was to be heard, and finally the flames leapt from the sky, purging first the clouds, hurtling down the hilltops, and with a look of terror on its face Wesnoth quivered, and died. The inferno shook the land from the Bay of Pearls to Wesmere Forest with a terrible quake, the earth, yes, the world itself trembled, and the two suns sank over a dead land.

P.S: Yes, she underestimated her powers in that particular fire spell. Somtimes, drawing energy from the sun just isn't good.

[Vladcara]

Very nice. You need any help with that-give me a call

[Icarusvogel]

Thanks a lot. I will probably need help.
I don't want to plunge this thread into off-topicness, so... further discussion by PM.