The Return of Cafeteria
Ages ago, the gaming style known today as “Cafeteria” was birthed in a NY junior high school. Named for its everyday playing environment and known for its especially brutal encounters. Today its is picked up by the same group of now hardened and seasoned gamers, Cafeteria style is meant to provide them with the ultimate gaming challenge!
From his vantage high atop his crumbling battlements, the Dreadlord Hellscream gazed out at the approaching storm. His eyes blazed with delight at each bolt of lightning that struck below. Built high into the side of one of the Hungry Mountains, the tower he claimed as his own was high enough to see heavy storm clouds at eye level. It made him almost feel alive again.
He sensed the approach of one of his minions before it reached him. He focused his empty gaze upon the hunched figure as it shambled up the last few steps and prostrated itself before him. He lifted his boot and rested it comfortably upon the back of the creature’s skull, resisting the urge to crush it outright.
A gurgling rasp creaked up from beneath his heel but he paid it no heed. The language of life had long since escaped his minions ability. Removing his boot, he reached down and dug his fingers into the base of its skull then dangled the twitching form before him. The Dreadlord took what he needed from what was left of its mind.
Survivors. Ruwido. Infected. Soul-Swell
Aroused with anger and rage, the dreadlord hurled his minion off the side of the battlement with all of his unholy might. It flew about 20 feet before plummeting to the ground far, far below. Before the slight pleasure from watching the body flail about on its decent could even manifest, Hellscream was accosted by a twisted presence floating up from below. I"thual was his Lord’s messenger to him, but the creature’s alien nature still made the dreadlord uneasy. Neither alive or undead, I’thual had been the one come and awaken him from his slumber and relay his masters commands.
Communicating with him in a fashion he found most unsettling, the soulless beast informed him that he also knew what he had just learned from his minion by simply placing the thought in his mind. “I know what this means creature, keep your thoughts to yourself” warned Hellscream, his voice came with frozen breaths from his mouth.
“I will send my harvester for them. I shall instruct it to save us a few of them to feast upon before we send the rest below…”
The undulating and writhing that came from beneath I’thual’s cloak could only be quivering in anticipation of a meal long awaited. Hellscream found that he could finally relate to the creature in some way, and this amused him….Reaching out with his mind, he sent a single command forth…
Aroden sat up with a start and buried his face in his hands. The visions still fresh in his mind were casting a plague upon his mind. Summoning strength from his ancestors he began to try to calm his mind. What a terrible vision to be blessed with, he thought…The meaning of this must be pondered, for his ancestors would not delight in tormenting him. He peeled his hands from his eyes and his vision slowly focused on the dying embers of a campfire. His companions were all asleep around the fire after a few harrowing days. A flash of light on the horizon drew his gaze to an approaching thunderstorm. A deep voice from beside him calmly stated, "A fell wind drives this storm… ".
Axemoe the dwarf stepped from the darkness outside the campfire’s corona and offered Aroden a hand up. Still reeling from his vision, Aroden gratefully accepted the assist, “We must wake the others, friend dwarf, quickly now!”