Monday, May 31, 2010

Miniature Monday

Here's a group of PC's from my first 4e campaign... all Reaper miniatures. Fonkin Hoddypeak (Human Wizard), Malegon of Goland (Human Fighter), Kal-Metus Kain (Dragonborn Warlord), and Barnacus the Cloak (Dwarven Rogue).


Barnacus swore fluently and threw the flint and steel into the pile of kindling, scattering sodden twigs and damp grass in a miniature explosion. The dwarf had been trying to start a fire for an hour and though the rain had slackened to an irritating drizzle from the downpour of the afternoon, there was no dry wood available... at least not on this side of the river. Stalking purposefully to the small bridge that was the only crossing of this nameless river for leagues in either direction, he glared at the old stone manor that lay along the road from the direction his party had come. It would have been invisible in the gathering fog but for the warm yellow lights that shone cheerfully from the leaden glass windows.

“Curse that uncharitable lordling and his crumbling hall!” Barnacus said.

Kal-Maleus raised his reptilian head and glanced at the dwarf. The rain did not bother his scaly hide, but the seeping cold was not to his liking and the temperature promised to drop further as the autumn night deepened. He shared some of his comrade’s frustration, but said, “Now, Bernacus, perhaps if our comrade had not tried to sell him a cure for his baldness, Lord Slyte may have been more accommodating.”

“Nonsense,” said Fonkin, “The man’s pate was positively blinding in the lantern light. His lack of decency and good manners probably stems from his very anger at his lack of hair.” The wizard was trying in vain to beat his hat back into some semblance of it’s normal shape, but the soggy material seemed determined not to cooperate. After another half minute, he gave up and jammed the offending garment on his head over his unruly hair. The broad brim drooped over his eyes.

Walking up from the edge of the camp where the horses were tethered, Malegon wore a lopsided grin. The hulking mercenary offered, “Perhaps if Hoddypeak had not been trying to oil down the lord’s wife, he would have at least let us stay in the stable.”

“Just because the poor girl was married off to a rude man twice her age who makes his lair at the edge of nowhere and turns away weary travelers does not mean she must live as a savage!” exclaimed Fonkin. “That balm is used by many ladies of Ansallen to improve the texture and appearance of the skin. Though her husband is too miserly to spend on his own appearance I thought he might have a few coins for the luxuries of civilization for his charming wife. I was merely demonstrating the properties of the balm when he walked in. There was certainly no cause for an armed escort across the bridge.”

Barnacus stomped back to the group and growled at the wizard, “They wanted to burn you at the stake in Derry for those gargoyle bane charms. If I thought you’d catch any better than the wood around here, we’d have a fire tonight yet!”

He picked up his bedroll and went to bunk under the wagon, leaving Fonkin glaring at his back and Malegon helpless with laughter.

Even Kal-Maleus was forced to smile. They would reach the keep by tomorrow evening. Though each of them had their own reasons for coming to the Borderlands,  if rumors of the incursion of the forces of chaos proved true it was likely that the need for heroes would be great. The dragonborn felt he and his companions would make an effective force to combat such a threat. Now if he could just keep them from killing each other before that...
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Malegon and Kal-Metus met untimely deaths at the hands of a black dragon (Malegon actually held the monster off for a couple of rounds while Fonkin and Barnacus legged it)...

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