Origin of the Bunni Master.

As told by the bard Tindo Beren Smartmouth to the children of Marduk before the egg-hunting ritual during the Week of East celebration.


Now, the officials of this city has asked me to explain the nature of these festivities. It is not a story known by many, and it might not be entirely true. But it is a good story nonetheless, and from the ages of old in which there were magics we now consider lost forever. But in those days, it was part of the life of some very few rare individuals.

One of these were the dark wizard Agomoth, an evil man, a psycopath on his best days, a true monster on his worst, Yet he had an inner love for vegetables. He made them in his own image, twisted them to show their inner, but often terrible beauty. He was the one who singlehandedly created spinach. He made it healthy only to make mothers around the land feed the icky stuff to the children. Now, it just so happened that he made aquaintance with an equally strong induvidual like himself, but with opposite alignment. They had a fight and Agomoth came out victorious, yet not without mortal wounds. His studies were of dark nature, and he had been too arrogant to learn spells that would mend his now broken body. He had thought himself immortal, and now that he faced death, he was terrified. So, with a last effort, he poured everything that was him. His very dark soul, his affinity for vegetables, and all his magic capabilities into a single seed.

Years passed, Agomoths land was blooming, his dark creations, except for the spinach of course, receded into the abyss, tormenting other realms. People of holy spirit now inhabited the land, controlling the once dark and chaotic lands, and making a land of law and light. One of these people, a paladin by the name of Christiaron, had his beloved kidnapped by one of the few criminals left. She had been taken to the residence formerly known as Agomoths keep for ransom. And Christiaron followed. Now, seeing as how the seed was infused with Agomoths power, it was pretty much immortal, yet it had grown. The dust collected on the floor was it's only soil, and yet, there it was. A baby carrot. Christiaron had been travelling for days, hunting the felons to this place, and was hungry. He had grown tired of the same rations everyday for the past weeks, so the carrot would be a nice addition this day, for his last meal before fighting. He was sure of himself now, he had them trapped, they just didn't know yet.

He rested for a few hours, making sure he was prepared for the coming struggle. He was a paladin of some skill, yet there were many of his enemies, and they might have allies nearby. The thought enraged him, and he got up, making the final preparations quickly. His sword bare in his hands, he ran around, hunting. She was in the tower, with three ready men around her. Brutal looking, all of them. Hi rage rose as they threatened to kill her if he moved a step closer. He moved a step closer, saw blood run down her cheek. The room grew dark.

Three corpses. That's all he could see. There were blood everywere, and he felt funny. He jumped around for a bit. Everything smelled right, there were only normal sounds to be heard, he was as evil as he'd always been. But something was still slightly off. Something weird. Hadn't he been a paladin sometime yesterday? His memory must be failing him. Of course not, he felt bad to the bone, and paladins had to be total boyscouts, those sissies. He heard crying, and turned. Sniffed the air for a bit. Yup, there she was, but who was she? He decided she was of no consequence for the moment. He jumped around a bit more, thinking evil deeds. Spinach had been a streak of genious, but what next? He was somehow tired of the whole plant-thing... except carrots. and salad. But those were good to feed on, he wasn't too good at growing them. He had to make himself a new passion. He looked at the crying woman, remembering something only to blur it out. Eggs. "Bad eggs. I'll make the opposite of spinach. I'll curse this land with eggs harbouring beasts that will hatch and feed of children, women and men alike." he hadn't realized he had been shouting the last part. He heard the running footsteps of the woman too late, as she ran to the neares city, spreading word of his evil plan. He did proceed anyway, knowing that even if they found some of his creations, others might hatch and make a mess. So one night, he sent his underlings that had somehow appared after some days alone in the keep, out with baskets of eggs, with instructions to hide them near houses and gardens, so that they'd hatch near their first victims. Of course, the underlings weren't too bright. Too much goblin-blood, I'll wager. So the eggs were easily found by the villagers. They cooked them good, finding them to be edible, so long as they never had the chance to hatch. Some families got lost, having forgotten to check the hedge, or the little hole that their dog had made the night before, but mostly they survived.

Now, some say that Christiaron is still alive, and that he is the one making, and hiding all the eggs for the festivities. That the carrot of Agaroth changed him into the immortal bunnimaster. Some say they've seen his underlings as well, in the woods. Small fluffy white goblinoids, so small and with so silky fur, that you'd think they were rabbits, or hares. And maybe they were, one time. What I can tell you for sure though, is this. If these eggs are still the work of Christiaron, aka the Powerful and Immortal Bunnimaster, then make sure to find every single egg, and boil them well before you eat them. You wouldn't want a monster to hatch and eat youf family, afterall. Would you?


(Denne er til deg Christian! Gratulerer med dagen, og takk for at du vil være DMen vår.)

Dwarwen Mines pt. 2

So yeah. There we were, the four of us and the sound of 16 men ranting in unintelligeble voices. There were no words, my ability in illusions wasn't quite that great, although the anger behind them made real words unneccesary. At least for the orcs. The orcs were scared out of their minds! My fellow adventurer, Osborne, who was proficient in the language of the savages, explained what they discussed amongst themselves. One of them, apparantly the leader of the group, gave the order for one of the others to escape and bring words to their great chief to bring more of them, lots more. You could say my plan backfired on us.

We were in one of the more unpleasant situations, with several orcs outside and a promise of more to come, so we did the only sensible thing and busted out. Or rather... We cleaned away all the stuff we had barricaded the door with, and then we busted out, ready for anything. Now, it just so happened that anything in this case, meant the disapparence of the orcs outside our door. Apparently they had fled the scene when they heard the sound of moving furniture, thinking that they were about to be run down by a two figure number of soldiers. Not that we were any less likely to destroy them than the soldiers would be, but still. Even I know the soldiers would be both more efficient, and more impressive. That's when I figured I'd have to learn how to make the image of 20 soldiers running for the enemy. Just think of the reaction!

Now, anyway. We rested, healing our wounds, getting our daily meditation done so that we may cast more spells and such things. And then we began journying again. Going further down into the mines. There were more bodies, dwarven women and children slaughtered without remorse from their assailants. We met a few goblins as well, whose stupidity was only topped by their complete lack of courage. Or well... not complete. Meeting four adventurers armed to their teeth alone with nothing but a pointy stick is, if incredibly foolish, still a sign of courage. We spared one of the goblins we met, with a promise of letting him go if he only showed the way to the surviving dwarves. He didn't quite meet his end of the deal, but instead led us to a room filled with orcs an bugbears, so we had to off him. Kind of sad, but his choice. He did leave u some compensation though, in the form of tidbits about the dwarf situation. Apparantly our diversion had worked, for a while. The dwarves were still fighting, but then again, so were the goblinods.

Well, we kept going, fighting anything that came across our way, with me always confusing the crap out of them while the others killed them of one by one. I found myself almost being happy that we brought the monk as he laid orc after orc down to rest, but everytime the feeling crept forward, he started talking, and it faded back again.

On our way down, in a particulary tight spot, we hear battlecries. Dwarven battlecries. We were finally there! I was already singing a song to set courage in my allies, and I raised my voice, almost shouting in dwarven a song of great heroes past. And yet it was the monk that made certain the last of the enemies in the room fell by his feet. They were sceptic towards us, and I had to use everything I knew about dwarves and diplomacy to get the point in that we were there to help, before they finally accepted. There were few of them left now, and every one of them had to protect their city, so they asked us for a favor. There was a place in the mines, holy for those that lived here, that was now infested with orcs and goblinoids. They wanted it taken care of, but with a promise of pain to come if we were to take anything from that room for ourselves.

End of the "dwarven mines",But still to be continued.