Game table

Welcome to the game. This is where everyone speaks and everyone hears. It has begun.

The party has not been formed. The bonds have not yet been forged. But they have traveled together, crossed paths, even talked to each other as they experienced this world of Maztica and tested their metal against it. The gods have spoken to them, empowered them, and they have defeated enemies more fierce than any other starting adventurer has ever faced. They have used cunning, strength, and love to conquer their fears and declare to the Great Skyhome that they are destined for greatness. All the while, they have traveled to one place, one moment, and each saw the same atrocity. They each spoke out and reacted to it. Herein lies our beginning, our tale of heroes and of monsters, our journey of self knowledge, of truth versus lies, of light versus dark. A revolution grows in Maztica, but no one as yet knows its name. Gods have been foretold to fall. Gods have been called to rescue. Gods have been manipulating the True People for eons. This... this is a time of heros.

At the fountain in Baya, a little girl's cries go out in the pre dawn and no one in her town hears. Five silver clad soldiers are molesting her as she takes water from the fountain. The heros react.

A thin, hulking Goliath and a black-clad beauty of a Half-elf, both are the first to charge into the square where the five soldiers taunt the girl. The heros yell out at the soldiers, "What impressive bravery you show, five armed men against an unarmed child! Do you little boys have no honor?" the giant intimidates. "What is wrong with you, she’s a child!" challenges the woman. They run hell mell to cross the 80' of empty space to the men.

A voice cries out along another alley, the sound of a woman screaming.

A chain mailed pirate runs out after the Half-Elf, his sword drawn, he shouts a prayer to his goddess and his blade ignites with radiant energy, brightening the pre-dawn dim.

A lady in Druidic robes steps out in the square and pleads, "Help, help! Excuse me, fine soldiers! A weak, old man wearing fine jewelry has had been attacked. He needs help!"

A desert dwarf dashes out, albeit a bit slower than the others, with battle ax swinging as he yells, "I'LL DANCE FOR YA, YOU COWARDLY PIECES OF OGRE DUNG. COME MAKE ME DANCE!!!!"

The soldiers turn to face the heros rushing on them. Three form a line and ready their long swords and shields. Another sneers in his poor broken Maztica, "Native scum!" He rises and floats on a cloud of blackness and flies up with his sword blazing in black fire. The fifth drops back and throws a bit of octopus onto the ground at his biggest perceived threat, the forward running Half Elf and glowing paladin. An area 20' square under their running feet sprouts squirming, ebony tentacles.

Meanwhile, the young girl is thrown into a whirl. Her fingers slip from the water vase. These foreign, silver soldiers has violated Maztica herself. The girl looks on with desperation at the urn that is almost the same height as she. The Maztican mud pottery, made of the mud of Maztica itself, given form by the goddess Maztica when she was slain to make the True World's land, the pottery crafted with Tunqua magic and decorated with the glyphs of many gods, topples from her head. It leans out as her finger reach for it for it again, the most precious item she has, the vessel that provides her family with water, that life giving source of all life. It spills onto the paved stone. The vase falling and crashing onto the stone after it. The pottery holds together from the powerful magic of the god glyphs. It holds against the violence. It sustains itself, but there is a crack. The fall is too much and not all the gods in Maztica can hold against it. The crack widens, shaking the pottery. The pottery cracks open and shatters from the strain of the impact. It becomes nothing. It loses all power and magic. It returns to mud. The water pours forth across the square and escapes into the ground. The mother goddess Maztica herself cries out. The girl drops to her knees. The inevitable destruction of all of Maztica has begun.

Kitsune's legs are wrapped by the black tentacles. She is restrained and stops in her tracks. The tentacles squeeze her for 4 points bludgeoning damage.

Out from the shadows behind her comes a mote of flame that strikes the area of tentacles and they scream in agony as does the knight who casts them. He falters on his concentration on the spell, but maintains the spell.

Dukalu also sustains damage from the squeezing tentacles on the top of his turn, as he too is restrained by the evil things.

Kitsune weaves her magic and sings her lullaby. One of the three soldiers drops off to sleep on the battlefield.