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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
 Posted - 29 Jul 2005 : 00:07:28
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Hi all;
Presently we're running an online campaign using Ghost Orb, and ScreenMonkey along with Teamspeak to join together and campaign. The game started in Secomber and has moved around a small bit to the North.
I like to post things that fill in backstory for my players and give the campaign more of a real feeling.
I'll post up my first bunch of backstory/fill then I'll post more stuff as it happens, I also encourage members of my group to post their own view of events in the campaign, and others are welcome to ask questions and such.
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Background; Vain Roberts Gibbet has long been a favorite watering hole of local sailors, dockworkers and other trades. Its fine assortment of ales, beers, wines and food has given it a well deserved reputation. Not to mention it's staffed by fine looking women who are usually the daughters of sailors or captains.
The owner of Vain Roberts is Elizabeth Talbot; a sultry dark haired beauty who usually has a quick smile and sharp tongue if angered but is also known to aid those who've fallen on hard times.
Recently she seems a bit distracted, and worse, sullen and angry or prone to weeping. Confused by this, several of the other tavern wenches have asked you and your friends to find out whats bothering their beloved employeer.
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The group a bunch of not-so-nice folk who get involved in the hopes of gaining some favour with sweet Elizabeth...or perhaps just for loot.
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Here are some of the character backgrounds at the start of the campaign;
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Gwalin "No Beard" Forsakenson
Born into a clan of Shield Dwarves in the city of Waterdeep, Gwalin and his twin brother Bwalin, spent their youth learning their trade; mining, a strange calling for city dwelling dwarves. They soon learned that the 'mining' that the clan was carrying out was, in fact, complicated tomb looting and re-discovery of a lost dwarven city far below Waterdeep.
Shortly after beginning their apprenticeship the two brothers were attacked by a group of Duergar who were attempting to loot the same tomb as Gwalins clan. Clubbed unconscious by the dark dwarves the two were taken to the Duergars hiding place and tortured for the entertainment of their captors. Both young dwarves held up for several days of abuse until tiring of their games the Duergar decided to shove the pair head first into a pot of molten lead.
Bwalin, always the stronger of the pair of brothers broke free and attempted to escape his holders, who pursued him down a darkened tunnel, Gwalin had the cooling remains of the lead dumped upon him by one of the Duergars as an afterthought before he too took up the pursuit of the escaping youth. Horribly burned and nearly killed by breathing in the lead the young dwarf stumbled out into the hall ways only to be found by a search party from his clan. They looked with horror upon his injuries as one of them attempted to pour a potion of healing down his scared and burned throat.
Of Bwalin, nothing was ever heard of again...
Gwalin, now disfigured by the searing of his face, spent months alone in his clans camp with a strange human who'd befriended the Dwarves. This man; Horibin as he called himself, was aiding the band by deciphering scripts and other writings that the clan had found during its delving. Horibin was, in fact, a follower of the God Mask, who had given the man a vision of a secret place far below Waterdeep. Hoping to carry out his gods wishes Horibin had made himself available to the dwarves. Now he found himself caring for the wounded young dwarf.
Gwalin found himself dissillusioned with his clan and their god, who, he felt; had abandoned him and his brother when they needed him the most. He listened to Horibins whispers about a powerful god who helped those that helped himself, and he felt a kinship with this idea. He felt that it was only his strength that had allowed him to survive his ordeal and he soon found himself becoming an avid follower of the God of Secrets. it was only much later that he found that Mask was also the god of Lies, Deceit and Thieves, but by then he didn't much care.
After some months of healing Gwalin left his clan and the city and moved to Secomber. He'd heard rumors of lost tombs in the hills nearby and hoped to find more secrets and knowledge there.
Tonight he's come to Vain Roberts Gibbet as he'd heard they had some Dwarven Ale on tap, and he found himself hankering the strong dark brew for some odd reason....
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Hwilli "The Kid"
Hwilli doesn't remember anything about his past, other than he came from somewhere upriver from Secomber. About eight years ago he was found floating on a log in the middle of the river by some bargemen. They collected 'the kid' from the water and revived him. At the time they all thought he was just a small boy, and it wasn't until a few days later that the bargemen realized that he was, in fact; a halfling pre-teen.
By that time the nickname "the Kid" had stuck to the young halfling, who slowly learned to speak again (a large bruise on his head seemed to have caused him to loose his memory). A quick study, he was soon moving along the river barge as if he had been born there. Climbing the rigging and assisting the bargemen as they loaded and unloaded their cargos.
Hwilli was adopted by the crew and enjoyed the life on the river for several years. He became adept at rope work, and showed no fear of hieghts, often hanging on spars off the barges mast far out over the river water. It was from this position high above the decks that the young halfling felt the safest.
A few months back the barge was attacked by river pirates, desperate farmers who'd been forced off their lands, and Hwilli and the rest of the crew fought to save their way of life. Hwilli slew a few of the raiders and even knocked thier leader overboard by swinging across the decks on a rope and striking him. Sadly, most of the bargemen fell in the battle, and the dispirited crew returned to Secomber and sold off their shares of the barge.
Since then Hwilli has wandered around the city, mostly by the docks and found some employment as a roofer (again his lack of vertigo serving him in good stead). He'd also taken to visiting the Vain Roberts Gibbet from time to time and seeking out other rivermen or sailors for some 'shop talk'.
Tonight he's noticed that Liz Talbot seems distracted....
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- from the Night Watch Logbook -
3rd Candle past sunset; unknown person shouting for help outside of Vain Roberts Gibbet. Patrol investigated, found nothing unusual.
4th Candle; possible intruder on roof of Dockside Trading Company roof. Dockside guards called for help. One small person spotted on roof. Pursued and lost intruder.
5th Candle; one constable injured by rake left in darkened alley during pursuit of roof intruder. Priests of Tempus refused healing as injury not caused in battle. Made offering to Tyr and recieved healing for constable.
6th Candle; Dockyard. Alarm sounded by Potiphar Trade Co. Patrol dispatched, attacked by six or more heavily armed thieves, and a wizard of considerable power who paralyized one of the guards and attempted to slit his throat. Suspect followers of Bane to be responsible. Guard sent to temple of Tempus for healing and removal of spell. Cost to watch 50 gold (reciept enclosed).
7th Candle; small fire reported by stadium. Used firebrigade from South Gate to douse fire. Cause unknown.
Sunrise - Watch ends; faithfully reported by Chief Constable Ranouk.
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Sitting in her bedroom suite in her tavern, Elizabeth Talbot stares at the bone and gold comb she holds in her hands. Worn smooth by countless years of use the finely made comb seems to be custom fitted to her hands.
She stifles a sob as she begins to comb her luxuriant black hair with the fine teeth of the comb. After a few strokes she stops with a shudder and with a retch drops the comb as she fumbles for her covered chamberpot. She reaches it just before she vomits and shudders in agony.
For several wrenching minutes she coughs and retches into the pot, emptying her stomach. Finally she fumbles for a nearby water jug and pours herself a mug of clean water. She rinses her mouth several times before covering the pot again.
"Oh no!" she cried when she noticed the comb lying broken on the floor. She steps over and carefully picked it up as tears fill her eyes.
As she grasps the two pieces of the comb she notices a scrap of parchment is cleverly inserted inside of the handle. Carefully, she slides the comb apart and pulls the rolled parchment from its secret hiding place.
She moves to her desk and unrolls the scrap on the table top. A drawing of a what appears to be a coastline along with several strange runes is inked onto the parchment.
"Oh Father! You did find it after all." she exclaims looking closely at the map. "now to find someone I trust enough to retrieve it..."
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In the dark confines of his cluttered bedroom Potiphar rolled uneasily in his sleep, his huge bed; built specifically for his larger than normal frame, creaked and rocked with his movements. Several cats, who had been resting on the bed leapt off to escape his stuggles and they now sat in a circle around the bed watching the blankets and sheets heave and pulsate.
Suddenly Potiphar sat up in the bed and threw off the comforter, “Thieves!” he screamed as his eyes popped open.
His fevered gaze swept around the room searching for intruders or anything out of place, he saw only his cats and his possessions piled high on shelfs and tables in his room.
A knock sounded from the thick doorway, “Master, are you alwight?” came the lisping voice of Ranulf the head watchman, “Ve heard yer threaming.”
“I’m fine Ranulf, just another bout of night terrors.” Came the high pitched response from the bed. “I will be fine in a few moments.”
“Thall I gwet some wcat foodth thewn Master?”
At those words several of the cats moved expectantly to the door and mewed loudly. Potiphar laughed as he heaved himself to his feet and over to nearby chamber pot which he used with a grunt of relief. After a few moments there came a tapping at the door.
“I hawf the cwat food Master”
Potiphar threw back the deadbolt and opened the door admitting the bowing guard, who stepped in and raised his lantern to illuminate the room. Seeing that all was well he grunted an order to a servant who brought in a fishy smelling bowl and placed it upon the floor. Immediately it was surrounded by cats that seemed to emerge from the walls. Purring and hissing sounds quickly filled the rooms as the cats enjoyed their repast.
“Take the pot” ordered Potiphar pointing. “then leave me to my rest.”
In a few moments the servant and Ranulf had finished their tasks and left the room. Potiphar chuckled as he watched the antics of the cats as they ate, then he returned to his bed and shoved over a pair of cats before he fell back onto the thick mattress. He pulled up the covers and rolled over. He glanced once more about the room, noting the locations of his possessions and prizes before closing his eyes again to drift back into his restless slumber.
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The group sat in the abandoned house in the dark, discussing the layout and dangers of Potiphars mansion with the trio of local thieves Guild members. Hwilli, never one to sit idle for long, soon began to snoop around in the long unused kitchen. Opening a few cupboards he eventually found a dust covered jar which he quickly and excitedly pried it open with his dagger.
“Preserved cherries!” he exclaimed to himself as he began popping the sweet delights into his mouth. Holding several at a time he would suck the sweet fruit off of the pits and spit them against the wall. He soon lost track of time as he enjoyed the sugary fruits.
“Hwilli! By the four balls of Tempus, Torm and Sune what are you doing?” Gwalin the dwarf shouted in dismay as he found the bloated Halfling lying on the floor of the kitchen. The emptied jar of cherries rolled about his feet as he dragged the semi-conscious rogue to his feet.
“Ohh I think I ate too many cherries” with that Hwilli rushed out the door towards the jakes.
“Now what are we gonna do?” asked Finn as he observed the Halfling run out the door.
“We shall go on without him I suppose.” Gwalin paused and listened to the sounds of the Halflings nausea before continuing, “He’ll catch up when he’s done.”
“Let us begin then before it becomes light.” Finn grumbled as he slouched out into the downpour followed by Gwalin and Oscar who’d been looking in the cupboards.
With a final glance towards the miserable Halfling the pair moved swiftly down to the riverbank to join their friend.
They still had a job to do...
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Struggling to fight the fire raging on the top floor of his house tower Potiphar cried out with rage at the loss of so much that he valued. Servants and guards rushed around the house dousing fires and recovering items.
“Who did this to me?” he wondered as reports of damaged tapestries, and furniture reached him. He gasped with dismay as the body of one of his men was carried by.
“His armour is ruined! How am I going to afford new chain?” uncaring about the loss of the guards life, Potiphar sat in his great hall calculating his losses and expenses, and how much it would cost him to replace his hard bought equipment.
The surviving guards quickly and efficiently stopped the fires, and removed their comrade’s bodies. They glared with anger at their employer as he uncaringly wailed each of his losses. Potiphar was much more concerned with the cost of replacing his possessions than he was about the deaths of several of his guards.
“Masther?” Ranulf approached Potiphar with his head bowed with shame. “None of the guards can describe the thieves, they only say that they saw some of them jump into a boat on the wiver and paddle away downstweam.”
“Those fools!” shrieked Potiphar in his high pitched voice, his multiple chins aquiver with anger and his chubby cheeks streaked with tears and smoke. “All my plans are ruined, it will take me weeks. Weeks I tell you, to get things back on track.”
“I’m so sworry Masther, but the fire it covered the esthcape of the bandits. The gwards thought it more important to stop it than to pursue them down the river.” Ranulf rubbed his hands together in dismay as he watched his master cry over his ledgers.
A cat entered the great hall and padded over to the table, which it nimbly leapt upon. It sat down on the ledger in front of Potiphar and stared at him intently for a few moments. Ranulf felt beads of sweat break out upon his brow as he watched the pair; the fat man and the intent cat, silently stare into each others eyes.
After a few minutes the cat turned and leapt off the table.
Potiphar sat back in his huge chair with a sigh, he closed his ledger book and stood up from the table.
“Masther?”
“They lost them as they entered the city Ranulf, the pair that they followed were a dwarf and a boy. Some dogs chased my cats off before they could identify them. All I understand is that the dwarf wore a mask, no doubt to hide his identity and the pair of them wandered around outside the city walls before entering.” Potiphar ponderously waddled up the stairs to his bedroom, surrounded by a small army of cats.
“We’ll find them Masther, I swear it!” Ranulf promised as he watched the servants and guards continue their clean up of the house. “I swear it!
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NOTE; the group decides to leave town for a bit at this point, luckily they quickly find employment with the Temple of Tempus, who seem to have lost contact with a patrol sent to a local abbey. The group sets out to discover what happened to both the abbey and the followers of Tempus.
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Floating in the aether between planes a strange figure felt the stirrings of something touching him through great distance. He paused his endless meditation to concentrate upon the thread of feeling and crossed his arms and legs and he fell deeper and deeper into his own mind.
After a timeless span the thread disappeared and the figure opened his amber eyes to look out upon the tortured planescape that surrounded him on all sides. With a thought he began moving through the aether towards a far distant glow. His mouth curved with a smile of anticipation as he soundlessly flew through time and space.
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In a grove the orcs and ogres began to dance around their fire. With guttural shouts and screams they rent their own hair and flesh as they shouted in frenzy. In the middle of the large fire a pillar was engulfed in flames, along with the tied figure of a naked man. As the flames swept over him he cried out to his god one last time.
"Tempus! Give those who follow the strength to succeed where we failed!" he cried then bit through his own tongue lest he scream as the flames devoured his body.
One of the ogres laughed and leaned towards the man on the pole at the edge of the fire. With a herculean effort the man spat his own severed tongue at the brute, striking him in the eye.
Disoriented and in pain the ogre fell face first into the fire, sending up a huge spray of sparks and ash that momentarily hid the burning human. It was only after his laughing companions pulled him from the fire and finished beating out the blaze from his body that they noticed that the sacrifice had disappeared.
Trembling now with fear, their shouting and dancing ceased and they fell prostrate onto the dirt of the clearing as two huge robed figures emerged from the dark woods. The hulking figures examined the fire closely for several minutes as the cowering dancers tried to hide themselves amongst the dirt, lest they drew the attention of the pair.
Without a word or sound the two turned and re-entered the wood, leaving the much subdued revelers to the sound of the dying fire. Without further ado they slunk back towards their campsite, leaving only the badly burned and half blinded ogre to gaze at the smoldering embers of the pole and fire.
"Ugrash will remember the man" he grunted as he tied a torn piece of the lost sacrifice's red tabard across his disfigured face, covering his eye. With a final glance at the fire he turned and stumbled back to the camp.
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For several pain-filled days Ugrash stoically suffered as his burned face healed and his vision out of his tongue poked eye slowly returned. One morning Ugrash wandered down to a nearby pool to wash his injuries; a trick his mother had taught him would often heal injuries without infection, and pulling back the piece of torn red tabard that covered his swollen eye he noticed his reflection in the pool. Where his once brown orb had been all his life was a crisp blue eye!
Startled he leaped back from the pool with a gasp of religious fervor; surely the god of the tortured human had marked him as one of his own.
"By Tempus!" he growled feeling his chest swell with pride.
"What be this Tempus? He human man god, not ogre or orc god!" snapped a nearby voice.
Whirling around Ugrash noticed for the first time that he'd been followed by one of the orc leaders who nominally ran his band. He glared for a moment at the spear holding orc and then remembered his changed eye and put his hand over it.
"What you do to eye?" gasped the orc raising his spear threateningly. "Show me your eye Ugrash or spear I put in your heart!"
Ugrash bowed before the orc leader and shuffled closer to him, then with a cry of "Tempus" he leaped upon the orc, taking a nasty spear wound as he did so.
"You call for man god! You die!" screeched the orc backpedaling from his enraged opponent.
Those were the last words he was to speak as Ugrash skillfully dodged his next thrust and pulled the spear from his hands, quick as a viper striking he reversed the weapon and drove the point deep into the orcs vitals, killing him instantly.
Breathing deeply Ugrash felt the blood pouring from his opened side and wiped at it with his hand. His head swam as he stumbled away from the orcs body.
"You have been blessed by Tempus, Ugrash" came a deep voice from the pool. "Wash your wound in the water and return to your camp."
Ugrash could see a powerfully built man standing knee deep in the pool, the mans face and eyes showed no fear and he stood with an easy confidence that shook the ogre to his core. Ugrash noticed that the orcs body was slowly sinking into the nearby earth and disappearing.
"What you do?" he asked the man as he bent to cleanse his wound in the pool. As the water touched the bleeding injury it instantly closed and the pain disappeared.
"Tempus rewards the brave when they do battle. Even those who would not normally be accepted by other faiths." the man spoke as the ogre stood back from the pool. He stepped closer to the shoreline as he continued, "you have witnessed the power of Tempus, and the courage of his faithful first hand. You also must realize now that the one you serve cares not for you or your tribe, nor does the one you serve show you and your kind any honor in battle."
Ugrash stared as the man walked calmly over to the mound of dirt that covered the recently slain orc, it was all but hidden now by the earth. The man looked closely at Ugrash's face and smiled into his changed eye.
"Others will see your eye and note the changes in you Ugrash. Soon you will no longer be welcomed by your companions, and you will have to choose your own path." he bent over and picked up the fallen orcs spear, before he continued, "you will know when it is time to choose, and to join the ranks of those who battle against the death of all, man, orc and ogre."
The man drew back the spear and flung it at a nearby tree, where it pierced clean through. A moment later the spear changed into a branch upon the tree.
"A battle comes Ugrash, remember how it felt to call upon Tempus as you fought. Remember how the burning man fought to the end. Remember how the others have treated you and your kind." the man began walking back into the pond.
"Oh, and cover the eye for now Ugrash." he said before he disappeared under the surface.
Ugrash slowly covered his new eye with the red cloth, and looked at the still pool before him. Absent mindedly he scratched at his face as he turned to return to the camp.
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The group finds the abbey overwhelmed with gnolls, orcs and ogres who seem to be lead by some dark robed individuals. They sneak into the main abbey house and after much combat realise that the local abbey has been used by forces for another god.
Gwalin; the groups priest, determines that the usupers are followers of Shar and informs the group. They then find themselves at a loss as to how to proceed. Luckily they enter one room to find a strange skinned man who cries out for vengeance. He leads them down to a before unknown entrance into a series of secret tunnels below the abbey. They reform their group and sneak down....
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Signs of recent mining and determined digging lead them to a broken through wall in what appears to be a long abandoned underground warren. Here they meet up with fierce resistance from a group of Ogre s who are guarding the entrance to the tunnels. At that time they meet Ugrash, whos changed his name to Ugoth and who turns on his ogre compainions and joins the group.
Ugoth leads the party deeper into the complex until he is felled in a mighty battle against a group of his former compainions. Saddened by the strange ogres brave death the group forges forward.
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Sorry for the length of this thing, and the missing of lots of the other stuff from the campaign. I'll try and post more stuff soon.
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Prince Forge of Avalon
Learned Scribe
USA
117 Posts |
Posted - 30 Jul 2005 : 09:53:24
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Gwalin will be adding his short story to this narrative for enjoyement by all. I like this!,but I still want to know what happened to the Orge hehe!
PFOA/preacher |
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 30 Jul 2005 : 11:38:27
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Ducking under the remaining ogres club swing, Hwilli drove the point of his short sword up and into the mighty creature’s liver. He twisted and pulled it from the gushing wound, causing the powerful creatue to clutch itself in agony. Then Gwalin stepped in with a coup de grace and near severed his foes head with his axe.
Gasping for air in the dark confines of the corridor the group assessed their losses during the fight. with a gasp of dismay; Calion dashed over to the fallen form of Ugoth, their ogre guide, who he had last seen engaging the leader of the patrol in single combat. The two bodies were now intertwined in death; hands clasped about each others necks in a final display of hatred and killing lust.
“Ugoth has fallen in battle!” he cried rolling the great creatures body off of his slayer, “Tempus! Take this warrior to your side!”
With gentle hands he closed Ugoths mismatched eyes for the final time, and placed his mighty war club in his hands in repose. The other members of the group came over and at Calion urging they pulled the fallen ogres into a pile at Ugoths feet.
“Well I didn’t much care for his odor,” Gwalins voice was muffled by his ever-present leather face mask. “But, I was impressed with his ferocity in battle, its a pity he died.” He glanced at Calion who was glaring at his ill attempt at humor.
In an effort to appear pious, Gwalin made a few vague gestures over the body and mumbled some words of a strange language before turning to an approaching Hwilli. The Halfling had been rifling through the meager possessions of the fallen ogres and was in the process of cleaning his sword on a ratty wool vest.
“They don’t have any gold, or even anything edible.” He complained as he resheathed the weapon. Hwilli did not seem overly dismayed at the loss of the mighty Ugoth, who he had found to be an enigma.
“Hwilli, lead us onward then.” Ordered Elessar as he glanced a final time at the fallen ogres before continuing. “We don’t want to stay here too long lest another patrol find us.”
Turning the group slowly made their way further into the dark reaches of the complex. Soon even the sounds of their departure faded and darkness and silence enfolded the corridor in a deep embrace.
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With a grunt of searing pain Ugoth sat up. After a moment of deep breathing, he opened his eyes and felt a spell of disorientation as he discovered that he could see in the darkness out of his new eye. A deep red light surrounded him as he sat in the corridor, the remains of the fallen ogres laid out at his feet. It was only then that he noticed that his body looked different; where once he had the huge heavy torso and limbs of an ogre, now he saw the body of a heavily muscled human male. He raised his hands to his face and felt the lack of the great brow that once covered his eyes. He also noted that he had not a single hair upon his new body; it was naked as a new born babe.
“Sorry about that Ugoth, but sometimes even the gods don’t answer the way one would like.” From the darkness outside of his vision, Ugoth could see the man from the pool walking towards him. He approached the reclining ogre and put out a helping hand to aid him to his feet.
Hesitantly Ugoth reached dup and grasped the wrist of the man, and felt himself easily pulled standing. He swayed for a moment before his balance returned, and he looked around himself in wonder.
“Here Ugoth, put this on.” Said the man holding out a red wool tunic, which Ugoth swiftly threw on over his head.
“What..” Ugoth coughed; surprised with the smooth feeling the words had leaving his new throat, and not recognizing his own voice, “what I do now?”
“The God calls us my friend,” the man replied, “and we must answer. I’m sure he has something in mind for you in the future.” Turning the man spoke some words of power and gestured at the empty hallway. With a pop of displaced air, a portal appeared before him; lighting the area with a mystic green glow.
“Come with me now Ugoth, there is much to be done.” With that the man stepped through the portal.
Ugoth glanced down and saw his beloved war club lying nearby. He stooped and picked it up before he turned again then without hesitation, entered the portal. As soon as he had done so, the portal dissipated in a puff of wind.
Darkness and silence returned to the corridor for a few moments, until broken by the stealthy sounds of yet another creature approaching the site of the battle on bare bloodstained feet...
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 03 Aug 2005 : 05:06:23
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Chained to the wall of the dank cell, Roland; once head abbot of Heathchester Abbey, calmly awaited his fate. During the days of interrogation and torture his faith had been stretched near its limits, but now at the end of his trial he felt a deep calm filling his heart and soul.
He had not told Merrick of the books whereabouts.
He had not betrayed his Gods trust.
His hearing had long become his main sense in the darkness, and he heard the approach of booted feet and other movement well before the key turned in the lock of his cell. A bright white light filled the room as a magically imbued stick was pushed through the open door. When he had first been taken prisoner, he would find the light searing into his eyes to be one of the most painful parts of the interrogation, but now he was prepared for the pain and only turned his face towards his tormentor with a sigh of acceptance.
“Hello Abbot.” Came the soothing voice of Brother Merrick as he entered the room. “I’ve come to tell you that they won’t succeed.”
Confused, Roland said nothing and after a moment’s pause Merrick continued.
“I don’t know who they are, but my servants will soon be rid of them once they allow the fools into our temple.”
With a shiver of foreknowledge Roland deduced that someone had come to rescue him, or at least; discover why the Abbey had been so quiet of late. Perhaps it was his father’s men or one of his past patrons. Now was not the time to betray his thoughts to his mad former apprentice, he thought forcing himself to remain calm.
He could hear faint sounds of some sort of disturbance outside of the room, Merrick seemed not to notice as he towered over the chained prisoner.
“Nothing to say Abbot?” Merrick asked, “Perhaps it is time for another turn on the rack. Yes, I believe one of the ogres has been waiting for an opportunity to give you a bit of a stretch.” He laughed then licked his lips in anticipation.
Merrick re-opened the door to call out into the nearby guard room.
“Send in Lokska! Its time for him to have some fun!” he yelled as sounds of running feet and battlecommands could now be heard from the room much more clearly. Something was defiantly happening.
“What is going on out there? Where is Lokska?” Merrick rushed out of the cell leaving the door partially opened. Roland could hear him shouting in under common to the milling dark folk who made up his troops. Confused reports of a great army attacking the manor house and killing all inside filtered to Merrick, who listened intently.
More sounds of preparation and hissed orders came from the common room, and minutes passed before the light announced Merricks return.
“Your father has sent more men.” Snarled Merrick as he swept into the cell and glared down at the chained man. “They won’t save you or stop me from summoning the gateway. I’ve made plans for every eventuality and you will find that nothing will stop me.” He swung the light infused stick at Roland’s face, opening up one cheek. “Nothing!”
Merrick began to strike Roland repeatedly with the thick stick, breaking bones and tearing his flesh. Roland hung stoically in his chains and refused to make a sound during his torment. His silence only drove Merrick to swing harder...
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Prince Forge of Avalon
Learned Scribe
USA
117 Posts |
Posted - 04 Aug 2005 : 06:19:52
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OH I see now THAT IS very intresting! always luv a good teaser?!
PFoA/Gwalin |
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Prince Forge of Avalon
Learned Scribe
USA
117 Posts |
Posted - 04 Aug 2005 : 06:42:42
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From The Journals of Gwalin- Humble(yet powerful and DEADLY) servent of the Lord of Shadows
As we listened to the door,we heard some noise, then the door started to open from the other side-
I off course, being the alert and fearless Leader and battle master that I am CHARGED most powerfully and JUST CREAMED that 8.5 ft tall Gnoll standing on the other side of the door and knocked him back some 20feet(yes you read correctly I SAID 20 FEET!) oh but wait--
there was a wall only 15 feet behind the Gnoll; I believe he was knocked senseless and took damage just like he had fallen 20 feet! Oh my, I am such an Engine of destruction, no wonder I'm the leader of our gang with NO NAME!
After stunning the first Gnoll realization hit us that we had just run into Gnoll CENTRAL, there were at least 6 and in only a few seconds doors were opening from every direction to let more gnolls join in the fun. I quickly got everybody moving to action, Hwilli fired his crossbow rarely missing a target, and Osacr was ingenious casting a web spell that ensnared at least 4 or 5 gnolls. I continued to deal wit any direct threats and dispatched gnolls left and right with 1 or 2 swipes of my dwarven waraxe. Cael & Ellisar were shaken and needed support as they just couldn't seem to get their heads into the fight, missing left and right.
Then the crowning stroke-- at MY direction (hehe well maybe. maybe not) Oscar took the nearest flaming oil pit and spilled it into the web causing a burst of flame as it caught like alchemists fire with a few unlucky gnolls trapped within whose fur caught fire quickly and they burned horribly their feeble attempts to break free only alighting them more as they died in a howl of fury and pain.
Then our fearless LEADER (THATS ME) helped Cael to finish of the threat to the southwest and turned to finish off the last gnoll before he could strike Ellisar, while the ranger fumbled to protect himself from the still burning gnoll. After which everyone thanked ME for MY battle prowess and quick thinking. We then searched the rooms found a few useful items and secured the area while we rested and once AGAIN I healed the party to prepare for our next threat!
Which Im sure I will deal with most handidly!
All Hail The Lord OF Shadows and Praise his name and POWER for it keep THEE ALIVE!!!!
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 10 Aug 2005 : 06:40:43
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Once more Roland found himself in an uneasy slumber in his dank cell. His body was covered in his own blood, and he could feel his life slowly ebbing away, still his spirit was strong and his faith remained unbroken.
Stoically he awaited his own demise in the clinging darkness.
In the space between life and death Roland found his spirit floating above his battered body, he could see clearly in the darkness and could easily see the mortal wounds that would soon kill him. He forced his spirit to move away from his body, to seek out a fleeting glimpse of something that he’d felt days before. His spirit floated through the walls of his cell into the adjoining guard room, which was filled with the remains of his gnollish and ogre captors.
Someone or something had come and battled the guards while he lay unconscious after his beating. Out of a pool of shadow a bloody face slowly emerged, followed by a brown robed form. With a start of dismay Roland recognized the figure as a skin flayed version of his acolyte; Brother Liam.
With dead eyes the creature unerringly looked at the spirit form of his former master and spoke.
“Merrick, I seek my revenge upon him!” The dead things eyes never wavered as they looked at Roland’s spirit. “Tell me where he is.”
Forcing his will upon the undead creature Roland commanded him. “In the name of the Forest Lord, first you must aid me. Then you may have your vengeance.”
The skinned figure seemed to shrink for a moment, and then a spark of its former owner shone through.
“I will help you my Abbot.” The figure began to move towards the cell door. “Then you must tell me where Merrick is so I may rest.”
“Brother Liam, your quest is nearly at its end. Save me and I will tell you all I know.”
The creature forced open the cell door and entered, with a few unerring steps it approached the shattered body laying on the floor. With infinite gentleness it laid its torn and skinned hands upon the brow of Roland. Then it grasped the chains binding him to the wall and without effort tore them free destroying the spells that had bound Roland from his god.
Roland’s spirit rushed back into his body and he found himself staring up at the face of his rescuer.
“Merrick is in his dark temple to the South of this place. I fear he is summoning his god as we speak.” Roland whispered to his former student. “Stop his ritual, and take your vengeance upon him. Then join our god in your rightful place.”
Liam laid Roland down upon the floor and then stood and removed his heavy robe which he tenderly wrapped around his master. He then turned and without another word left the cell.
Roland now freed of the chains held out his hand and with a prayer called upon his god for aid and soon a golden glow filled the room.
In the hallway sounds of battle reached the senses of the former acolyte. His torn lips stretched back into a grin of anticipation as he moved quickly towards his goal.
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allidin
Acolyte
2 Posts |
Posted - 11 Aug 2005 : 22:57:44
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Very cool. I am sure glad we didn't kill that guy earlier lol. The calling upon his god part has me a little concerned....I can't wait until Monday.
~Allidin AKA Elessar |
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allidin
Acolyte
2 Posts |
Posted - 11 Aug 2005 : 23:11:53
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From the Journals of Elessar "Cael ath Tho" the Arrow of Truth
As the Battle against the Gnolls ended I struggled to understand how I could miss repeatedly with my trusted bow. As I sat contemplating my situation I noticed my string was damaged...AHHH!! That explains it. Lucky for me I found a nice Composite Longbow to replace my once trusted bow. After a few practice shots I was right as rain. Now it is time to give Gwalin is due rewards, he was the hero of this battle. Oh how his head will grow......
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Prince Forge of Avalon
Learned Scribe
USA
117 Posts |
Posted - 12 Aug 2005 : 23:21:25
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From The Journals of Gwalin- Humble(yet powerful and DEADLY) servent of the Lord of Shadows!
For such a small place they seem to be able to fill it with plenty of nasties! Everywhere we turn there's more gnolls, more skeletons, more orges, what did they do empty the whole of the savage frontier into this little complex!?
Once again I am forced to repeatadly heal theses battered and beaten adventures(hmm?) before I can join in the fray, Hwili screams out "Gwalin do something about these giant skeletons!" Calion yells "Gwalin I an in need of healing!" Begads you youngins! Must I do eveything?!
Now after dealing with these trivial matters I am free to engage these fiends and put an end to these prenetenders who defile my LORDS name by claiming rights to the shadows of the world. OH HOW YEE WILL SURLY PAY, AND MOST PAINFULLY TO BOOT! WATCH ALL, AS THE RIGHTEOUS FURY OF THE LORD OF SHADOWS (THROUGH HIS HUMBLE SERVENT) DEALS WITH THESE MISCREANTS! AND WOE TO THEE THAT CHALLENGE HIS POWER! or my faith!
Learn well fellow adventures for I will show yee the way!
So saeth Gwalin!
All Hail The Lord OF Shadows and Praise his name and POWER for it keep THEE ALIVE!!!!
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Prince Forge of Avalon
Learned Scribe
USA
117 Posts |
Posted - 21 Aug 2005 : 03:18:59
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From The Journals of Gwalin- Humble(yet powerful and DEADLY) servant of the Lord of Shadows!
Those foolish followers of the Mistress of the Night, got their due, not exactly the way I had planned by a effective and painful way nonetheless!
It appears one of the “simple" druids of the monastery found some dark temple and exposure to the site drove him quite mad, to the point of betraying all of his "brothers" and turning the whole place into some gathering ground for every foul and dark creature in a rather wide area.
The timely intervention of myself and my rowdy group of troublemakers destroyed the mad druids plans and those of the Dark Goddess-( note to self: what a terrible shame for those fools who do not yet understand that the Night and all it entails belongs to the LORD of Shadows-- ah well Ill carry that message to all those who have not yet come to that understanding). We found the ancient dark temple and dispatched the Druids assistants-- which included some temptingly beautiful sorceress a handful of smelly gnolls, and 3 giant owlbear skeletons.
I tried to land the finishing blow myself on the mad one, but it appears that he made his own enemies by betraying his fellows without finishing the job to completion- a reverent of uncommon power tracked him and proceeded to tear his beating heart out of his chest while he watched helplessly caught in some ancient ritual sacrifice to summon an aspect of the Dark Mistress to this plane. Ha! A truly fitting end for that mad FOOL!
He did succeed in bringing down the whole temple and destroying it in a massive earthquake that forced us to evacuate rather quickly, with the help of the cleric we were sent to find. Good timing there!
Now we return to conclude some unfinished business with overweight, overbearing merchant and his little group of paid followers.
So saeth Gwalin!
All Hail The Lord OF Shadows and Praise his name and POWER for it keep THEE ALIVE!!!!
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 22 Aug 2005 : 07:51:49
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“The fools” thought Merrick as the group of interlopers fell neatly into his trap.
Their straightforward assault was exactly what he had expected and planned for and now his servants both living and undead would make short work of them. Once that pleasant task was completed he would once again attempt the ritual to summon the Aspect of the Lady.
He observed the first part of the engagement with amusement as he stood safely protected behind a wall of mystic winds, his body and mind enhanced by his prayers and his lover Leyna a powerful wizard who had only recently arrived at the temple at his side. He smiled with confidence at her as his undead followers engaged the intruders.
Leyna cast a spell that created a profusion of images of herself when she noticed a bow wielding elf amongst the enemy. She then cast her most potent attack spell, a mystic bolt of electricity, at the foremost fighter of the opponents. He was struck backwards by the bolt, but was surprisingly able to keep his feet. Another of the party, obviously their priest leapt forward and cast a spell upon the smoldering fighter as he foolishly re-entered the engagement.
The bow wielding elf snapped off a series of arrows at the images of Leyna as she prepared a scroll to cast, with a sickening crunch one of the lucky archer’s arrows flew unimpeded into Leynas right eye and into her brain, instantly killing her.
Merrick gasped in dismay as he watched his first and only love fall dead with the arrow still protruding from her eye socket.
“It matters not, my servant. Soon you will be able to restore her to life.” The calm woman’s voice in his head spoke with supreme confidence, much as it had for several months as he vainly searched for the entrance to this long lost temple. The voice had guided him eventually to this place and it was only Roland’s foolish resistance to telling him the location of the book of Incantations that had prevented him from fulfilling his dream of returning his goddess to her rightful place.
“Begin the ritual now” came the voice. “I shall use the blood of these fools as payment to allow my avatar to appear.”
“Mistress I don’t have the book.” Merrick protested weakly still shocked at the sudden death of proud Leyna.
“Use the life force of some of your servants to begin the ritual; I shall then take the rest from those heretics, especially the short one.” Came the insistent voice. “Begin now
Merrick before they kill all of your dog faces.”
Without hesitation Merrick left the safety of the wind wall spell and rushed over to the nearby brazier that had been prepared with special herbs and oils. He gestured at two of his gnollish guardians to approach the brazier and assist him. They quickly obeyed and set up a defensive perimeter in front of the large bronze brazier.
Glaring in hatred at his opponents Merrick pulled a rolled scroll from a pocket in the sleeve of his robe and began to read it aloud. He finished reading and pointed at the floor a few feet in front of himself. Instantly a wall of whirling blades appeared between him obscuring the battle from his sight. At this the intruders gave a shout of fear and dismay.
“We begin” Merrick said, at this the Gnolls positioned themselves facing the brazier. Merrick cast several prepared bundles of herbs upon the glowing coals and began to recite a complicated spell as the smoke from the burning herbs floated up and obscured the Gnolls for a moment. When the smoke cleared the canine humanoids eyes were glazed over and their mouths hung open as if in a trance.
Merrick ordered the larger of the pair to slit the throat of his companion and when the blood began to gush from the wound he grasped the head of the gnoll and placed it over the brazier where the blood created a thick cloud of stinking smoke. Merrick then reached over and slashed the other gnolls throat with the first ones knife, he then pulled the dying creatures head into the brazier. As he did so a small globe of smoky blood appeared above his head and seemed to draw thin tendrils into the brazier. The globe began to pulse much like a heart as it drew blood and herbs up into itself seemingly to fortify and solidify itself.
Merrick continued to recite words of power and invocation and he strained his will to the globe, summoning the forces of his goddess to allow him to manipulate the opening between the planes. Merrick could feel the forces twist and turn about the globe and the brazier as the spell came towards a conclusion. Just at that moment the Elf fired his bow and an arrow snapped through the whirling blades and struck him in the left forearm.
For an instant he lost track of his ritual and he could feel his control slipping over the globe as the forces of chaos tore at the bonds holding the planes together.
Then just as he felt his control further slipping, he regained his control over the forces and began controlling the aperture. Another arrow snapped through the barrier, but this time Merrick was able to easily sidestep the missile. With a grunt he pulled the first arrow through his forearm and tossed it aside.
“Merrick, I’ve come for you!” a harsh dry voice intruded upon his gloating and caused a knot of ice to form in his stomach.
Looking through the blades he could see a flayed figure approaching.
“Liam?” he guessed looking at the figures tortured face as it walked calmly into the razor edged blades. Hunks of flesh and bone flew in all directions as the blades tore into the former Acolyte. Merrick had smothered Liam when he suspected that he knew too much about his plans for the abbey. It was the first of his many murders as he took control and put his Ladies plans into action.
Unfazed by the missing portions of his body, Liam’s undead form marched towards Merrick who backed up against the wall in dismay. The momentarily forgotten globe sent tendrils towards Merrick's bleeding arm, hungering for more blood.
Realizing that he was quickly loosing control he rushed to complete the ritual as he brushed the painful wire like tendrils from his arm. Instantly more appeared and he frantically began swinging at them just as Liam reached him.
“Merrick! Now you die!” and it thrust its hands at his chest. The bony fingers began to tear and rip at his robes as the figure attempted to plunge them into his chest.
Now in total fear for his life he lost his control over the ritual and felt the blood globe dragging him upwards and into some cold outer dimension.
In the nearby temple the remaining combatants stopped fighting to observe the end game of this battle as the pair began to float upwards towards the rapidly expanding globe.
“Run!” screamed Gwalin as he cast a spell upon himself, forming wings of shadow around his body. He swiftly flew towards his downed companion and attempted to flee with him when he felt himself being drawn into the globe.
Tendrils had now formed all around the ball and into the walls and ceiling that surrounded it, forces beyond comprehension battled each other as Merrick felt a bone hand tear into his chest and grasp his heart.
With a snap Liam held up the still beating heart of his killer and cried out, “Merrick, I have your heart!”
At that moment the globe engulfed the pair as it began to pull everything nearby into itself. Chunks of ancient masonry as well as the bodies of the fallen were drawn into the hungry mass as it rapidly began swelling.
Merrick felt himself drawn upwards and into the globe, and as it engulfed both himself and Liam he saw through dying eyes that he was in another place, a horned figure floated over to the pair and his last sight was that of the strange creature reaching out to touch him as the voice of his Mistress screamed in anger in his head.
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 24 Aug 2005 : 21:30:56
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Deep in the forest a lone wolf paused and its ears perked up at the sound of a distant battle. Warcries and screams of rage and anger filtered through the thick undergrowth of the old wood as the wolf silently padded towards the sounds. The wolf raised its head and sniffed the air and paused as it scented a nearby foe. Without a sound it hunkered down on its haunches and waited.
G'kal and Durath had been servants to the Dark Lady, and captains of the small but evergrowing army that had gathered at the Abbey. They had lorded over their fellow orcs and ogres and had felt the thrill of command. All had turned to dust when the Dark Ladies servant and his henchmen had perished.
With their former troops turning on them they had fled into the forest. Their only hope was to find another band or tribe and offer their services.
Unknowing they walked by the silent wolf who waited until they had passed then it leapt upon the back of G'kal, knocking the burly orc flying into a tree.
Durath was startled by the attack but he instantly spun his spear around in his hands and thrust it at the attacking canine. The wolf felt a burning sensation across its back as the spear narrowly missed skewing it to the ground.
With a deep throated growl the wolf spun on its hind legs and scooted under the tip of the spear straight at the groin of the frantically backpedalling orc. Unerringly it sought the orcs vitals with its fangs and it drove its head straight into the belly of the orc below his fetid armor.
Screaming in pain and fear the orc dropped his spear and desperatly grabbed for his sheathed dagger. Yanking the rondel he drove it down at the wolf who was now shaking and tearing his way into his abdomen. The blade scored a nasty wound on the wolves head as it drove through one ear and along the side of the beasts skull, forcing the wolf to release its grip in pain.
Stumbling backwards in agony Durath forgot everything except the overwhelming pain in his stomach, he clutched his spilling entrails in his hands as he fumbled to keep himself together. Tripping over a root, he fell backwards with a spray of blood and guts.
G'kal had been stunned for a moment but now he leapt to his feet and drew his scimitar. Despite the injuries it had aquired the wolf still seemed intent on killing as it leapt at the orc. G'kal slashed upwards with the curved blade and felt it hit flesh and bone just as the wolf knocked him flying.
His last sight was the wolves fangs as they closed upon his throat.
Durath, now deep in shock, could only sit up in agony as the wolf limped his way...
"Damn the Dark Lady for her lies." he gasped before he too felt the final bite of the wolf.
Satisfied with the kills the wolf sniffed at their remains seeking any food or sign of life. Whimpering slightly in pain from its many wounds the proud beast then turned and resumed its previous trail after the sounds of the other battle, pausing now and then to lick at the injuries as it moved through the woods.
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Druzar Darkwolf
Acolyte
USA
3 Posts |
Posted - 25 Aug 2005 : 00:15:38
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Excerpt from Oscar Frendick’s Journal
What an interesting trip this turn into.
We need to leave town for a while, so a trip to an abbey to see why deliveries are delayed sounds easy right? Nay. We end up with undead, machinations of an evil goddess and her priests, and to top it off, demonic creatures.
I need to remember to avoid dealings with Temples and religious fanatics in the future! Well, at least enough that I only need to deal with them for healing. Like the dwarf we have with us. Too bad he has to worship Mask, but than again, I’m not totally a fanatic follower of Erevian, so I guess his choice of worship is no big. He helps out the group and hasn’t pulled anything on us, so…
Speaking of the group, it is an interesting mix. There is a Halfling that would be my choice for a Roof-man if I needed one. The dwarf I mentioned already, but I guess there is an up side to his choice of deities, at least he is not constantly yammering at us to “change your evil ways”, plus his spell selection comes in handy. In addition to that, the Temple of Tempus sent a warrior to aid us at the Abbey. Good thing too, I know I made the mistake of stepping up like a fighter two times too many. Ouch! Time to let him take that type of actions; he can deal with the enemies swords better than me! With him was a Ranger, he seems to be an easy going fellow. Let’s see what happens with some of the more ‘dicey’ activities we may undertake. Like if we finish the gig with Potiphar the merchant, or what ever he considers himself. That will be the telling point of his nature is my guess.
And than there is Miri (I think that is how she spells her name). A wizard that has joined us, not sure what to make of her motives yet, but she was handy with her spells. It least I can focus on the use of magic as I wish now that she seems to be here and ready to help buff up the party.
Well, let’s see what comes next, once we drop Roland off at the Temple. Maybe his father will be generously happy that we found him. And if not, maybe we can get a meal at his place and case it out, for future references.
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 09 Sep 2005 : 19:46:41
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Potiphar the Phat looked out his makeshift cabins door and glared at a cluster of nearby fighters who were standing in soaking circle outside. Grunting with effort, he pulled his ponderous weight up and out of his chair and waddled over to the miserable looking men.
“Back to your posts or I’ll have your hides!” his high pitched voice grated on the startled men. “What is the meaning of this?”
One of the fighters, a vetern of many campaigns, stepped up to his employer and removed his helm before speaking.
“Sir, it seems as though something came out of the water and took a few of the men who were bathing.” He spoke nervously as he spun his battered helm in his scarred hands. “We didn’t get a good look at it but it plumb grabbed those guys and took off. Now none of the men want to go near the river to get water or nothin.”
Potiphar glanced at the nearby river quickly and turned back to the men. “I don’t care if some ‘critter’ takes a dozen of you. I want my bath, and I don’t care for your excuses.” He crossed his arms in anger. “Now take more men, this time armed with spears and get me my water!”
He spun and pounded his way back into his miserable cabin and slammed the door closed before collapsing onto his specially made bed. A group of lounging cats sprung out of the way and then returned to lay about his quivering frame as he wept in anger. Outside the cabin he could hear shouts as the mercenaries organized a protective cordon around the water party.
Shortly there came the cries of battle as the men engaged something down in the water. Potiphar raised his head and listened to the sounds of battle for a few minutes and then he could hear approaching footsteps outside the thin walls of his abode. Then came the gushing woosh of water being poured into a nearby container.
“Ranulf!” yelled Potiphar. “Ranulf, get that water heated as soon as you can, I demand my bath immediately.”
Outside the cabin the men stared at each other in anger and dismay as their employer demanded soap and perfumes be brought up from the stores and placed in the now heating bathwater. The loss of two more of their company weighed heavily upon them as they marched back down towards the supply dump.
“Ole lardass is gonna git us all kilt I tells ya” muttered one of the men as they pried open one of the crates. Inside laid out on oiled cloth was a huge assortment of steel arrowheads. “What the heck are we bringin arrowheads out here fer?” he asked dumbfounded.
“You oafffs!” lisped Ranulf, Potiphars right-hand man, “can’t any of you wead? That box is twade supplies not bathing supplies, look in thwat cwate!” he yelled pointing at another nearby crate before returning to the process of heating the bathwater.
“No one said, nuthin about me reading when I got offered this here job.” Muttered the man as he pried open the crate to expose its contents of well protected oils and soaps, he looked at his companions as they gathered handfuls of the toiletries. “an no-one said we was gonna be fighting every critter in the High Forest neither.”
“This job sucks.” Agreed another of the mercenaries as he spilled some aromatic oil on his hands. “thought we were gonna find some ancient ruins or something, not some ole abandoned mine.” They ambled back to the bathing area and handed their cargo to the frantic Ranulf.
“Gwet away fwools!” he lisped as he pulled shut the curtains around the bath house. Soon clouds of scented steam rose from the boiling waters, making several of the men sneeze and laugh as their eyes watered.
“That does it fer me lads” rasped the old vetern, “I ain’t gonna wipe no rich guys behind out here in the woods, no matter how good da pay is!” He stomped over to where the fighters were encamped in a circle of soaking tents surrounding a feeble campfire. “first he takes all the dry wood for his damn bath, then four guys get kilt getting his water, now I got perfume on me hands.” He glared at his fellows before reaching into the ashes of their campfire and wiping his hands. A spark from the fire landed on the oil and a fire instantly streaked up his arms as the oil ignited with sputtering fury.
“Yarrgh!” the mercenary screamed as he rushed to the river to plunge his arms into the waters. He looked down into the shallow depths and saw a green-faced woman reaching towards him, his last image was green skinned arms reaching out and pulling him under the water.
On the shore the other mercenaries watched in horror as the man disappeared under the water. Only a few ripples showed where he had just stood.
“That cuts it for me lads.” One of the men said as he looked at his companions, “the Forest don’t want us here, and I ain’t staying another night.” Several of the men looked at each other and nodded in agreement. “Fat boy is heading back to the city tonight, and I’m gonna get my rear end out of here as soon as he’s gone. Who’s with me?”
For a moment the men looked about each other then nodded in agreement. They looked about the camp at the other men who were carrying out various tasking in the pouring rain. They also watched as Potiphar come out of his cabin in a silken bathrobe and waddled over to his curtained bathhouse.
“We’re in.”
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Edited by - Sgain on 09 Sep 2005 19:47:27 |
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Druzar Darkwolf
Acolyte
USA
3 Posts |
Posted - 12 Sep 2005 : 21:39:12
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Excerpt from Oscar Frendick’s Journal
We make it back to the city, visit the temple and return the supplies. At least they paid so well; I guess mixin' up with priests an' temples isn't a bad thing after all.
We did find out the ol' Phats has an idea of whom he is looking for now -- the dwarf and the kid -- and has us tied to the raid on his stronghold. Time to keep low again.
We talked with the owner of Robert's Vain again, Eliz found a map from her father and it seems that ol' Phats has an interest in the same area of the High Forest the map details. We may be able to retrieve the item and stop Phat's interest at the same time. That, and being away from the law, and one that Phat's is on good terms with as well, is adding up to the gang heading out again. I should check in with some of the wizards and sages in town I know to learn more about gates or portals. Hopefully though guys going off to the sage that Eliz's father knew will provide some information.
Given that this trip could lead us, through the portal, to some unknown cultures lands, this could help us find some interesting mahic items or spell books. There could also be some interesting wealth available too. Either way, this does seem likely to provide an opportunity for mischief. |
Edited by - Druzar Darkwolf on 12 Sep 2005 21:43:25 |
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 21 Sep 2005 : 17:54:11
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===Just a note ====
Due to circumstances beyond their control (heck people do have to work) several members of the party have had to drop out for extended periods. Therefore Vain Roberts is short a full group. If anyone is interested in joining our party they will require the following; Klooge (the latest version, and their own licence key), teamspeak, a high speed connection (I use large maps and dialup will not work), a headphone (for teamspeak), a good knowledge of roleplaying with a large group. DMGenie or PlayerGenie would also be an asset (I use it to track the characters, and to have the players level their characters).
The characters are already created (so you don't need to submit a character to me), though if we play for a bit and you want to bring in something more personalized I'm willing to talk about it.
Game nights are also up in the air right now. We used to play Monday Nights at 6:30 PM Pacific Time (-8GMT). But we are trying to make it easier for some of the folks who have changed timetables...Tues-Thursday nights are also available. Again, we will attempt to be as flexable as possible for the majority of the players.
You can drop me an email (if interested of course) to sgain0@hotmail.com if you want to take a look at Klooge without purchasing a licence you can download a demo at www.kloogeinc.com, you can then give it a whirl, or use the built in game checker to find Vain Roberts (also called Sgains game) and drop in for a visit (I have one spare 'licence' so someone can come in and see the full version of the engine).
bye for now!
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 23 Sep 2005 : 07:54:36
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The rain lashed into the town of Secumber as the unlikely pair dashed along the water soaked cobblestones. They dodged from doorjamb to doorjamb in an effort to keep somewhat dry in the downpour. Hwilli, pointed up at a swinging sign that depicted an overflowing wine cup, he smiled then opened the door and stepped into the Mist o the Morn while shaking off the rain from his oiled wool cloak.
Oscar stepped lightly in behind his companion and allowed his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness within. He glanced downwards at the Halfling as he shook out the collar of his tunic. His gaze then swept across the other inhabitants of the tavern, most of whom seemed to be enjoying a late afternoon meal or goblet of wine.
Conversations in various tongues flowed past the pair as they angled over to a nearby empty table. Hwilli had to dodge several of the human customers as they lurched to their feet during the short walk. He glared at one particularly drunk man as he stumbled past, knocking into another table on his journey to the jakes outside the rear of the Inn. He noticed that many of the patrons put a protective hand over their pouches as he approached them and he smiled in rueful appreciation of their caution.
“Its gonna be tough to lift anything in this town soon.” He whispered to Oscar once they sat down at a wine soaked table. Hwilli pointed at some of the nearby drinkers and swore under his breath. “Look at the way they guard their pouches, most men don’t even cover their private bits as well.” He sniffed disdainfully and signaled the barmaid.
“Perhaps your reputation has preceded you Hwilli,” Oscar observed as he looked over the bar. “Or maybe one of your cousins has been greedy.”
“That would be it!” Hwilli smacked his head with his right hand, “by Chaunea’s Teeth! Some idiot has been picking them clean.” He glared at a few of the protective patrons as he climbed further up onto his chair. Then with a show of nonchalance he put both hands on the tabletop palms up.
A few of the patrons watched for a moment then turned back to their conversations. Others simply moved out of easy reach of the Halfling and resumed speaking. A few risked a last security pat on their pouches before turning their attention away.
“See anyone of interest Oscar?” Hwilli asked as he flipped a coin between his hands, a few of the patrons looked askance at the action, as they hadn’t previously noted anything in his palms, but most ignored his actions.
“That elf over there.” Oscar pointed a few tables over. “He wears the leathers of a woodsman, and he is of the Sylvain race of my brethren.”
The barmaid, a cherry faced girl of less than sixteen years smiled as she approached the table carrying two earthenware jugs of wine. “Red or White, milads?” She asked once she was in earshot.
“You’re finest red if you please. And an extra goblet for my friend yonder.” Oscar said pointing at the leather clad elf, who immediately noticed his attention and stood up.
Oscar raised his hand in greeting and spoke in the Elven tongue. “Brother, pray forgive me, I do not wish to disturb thee, but I have a need for information. I am Oscar, Son of Frendrick and a newcomer to this part of Faerun.”
The other elf stopped and raised his right hand to his breast before speaking, “Brother, I greet thee in the name of the Forest Father. I am called Ydristal, named am I for a great tree whose roots dig deep into the loam. How can I assist you in thy quest?”
Hwilli listened to the longwinded introductions for a few moments as he sipped at his wine. Elf hellos could last hours he knew from previous experience, and he had no interest in the condition of the wood or trees or whatever it was that they were discussing. Instead his eyes snapped to a nearby window.
Was that a cat he’d just seen peeking in through the thick bubbled glass? He glanced at the still talking Elves and again at the window. None of the other patrons had notice his attention, nor did they seem to be paying much note of him anymore.
“..Now pray Brother Ydristal, sit and share our table and wine.” Concluded Oscar as he stepped gracefully back to his chair. The other Elf bowed slightly and pulled himself easily into the offered chair.
“How may a child of the woods help you?” Ydristal asked in the common tongue out of politeness to Hwilli, who noticed with a small smile, that the Elf had one hand resting on his pouch.
Hwilli glanced at Oscar for a moment, and then asked, “We need to know some thinks about the Unicorn Run.”
Ydristal sat back in his chair and sipped at the wine, he rolled it over his tongue for a moment before swallowing it slowly. “That is a place where few not of the wood go. It is known as a home to the Fey, and they do not take kindly to interlopers,” he paused for a moment looking at Hwilli, “or those who would take things from them.”
“That is not our goal my friend.” Oscar spoke as he swirled his wine glass. “We seek a place somewhere along the Run, and do not wish to cause the wood or its inhabitant’s grief with our journey.”
“I can tell you this friends, the Fey do not take kindly to any burning in their woods, nor to the cutting down of trees for any purpose.” Ydristal looked at the pair and wondered at why they would enter that area of the woods, he had heard tales of lost cities and other ancient artifacts buried deep in the rich green vastness of the place. “It is their place and they have been known to slay those who enter it, without mercy.”
“Well I guess we can get by without cutting down any trees or anything, eh Oscar?”
“My little friend is correct Brother; we shall heed your words and not harm the wood during our journey. We know of others who traveled those same woods in times past and they too did honor them.” Oscar drank before continuing, “We only wish to abide in peace during our stay.”
Ydristal smiled at this and swallowed some more of the wine; he let it sink in for a moment before he spoke again.
“There are other rules to the forest my friends, but if you use your heads, and do not betray the woods trust then you should be fine.” He didn’t add that if they failed to do so, they would most likely be dead shortly after.
“Let us talk of other things,” he paused looking at the window as some rain spattered upon it. “Have you noticed how few cats there are in this town of late? I’ve only seen a few in the past days and it seems a might odd. Have you noticed the same?”
Hwilli glanced again at the window and he shrugged himself further down in his chair, “this is gonna be a long afternoon.” He thought sourly to himself as the Elves began conversing again.
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 18 Oct 2005 : 20:28:21
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Deep in the High Forrest along the banks of the Unicorn Run a dejected band of mercenaries sat by a smoking campfire and discussed their options. A few of the men sported bruises and other injuries and all wore soaked and dirty clothing and armor. One man coughed and hawked before spitting over his shoulder into a nearby bush.
“Gods teeth! I can smell those damned roses again.” He exclaimed glaring at a nearby canvas roofed hut from which a cloud of thick steam poured out.
“Ole fats is having another bath it seems.” Laughed another of the men as he stirred the fires embers. “All we got is this soaked green-wood and some stuff we’ve broken off the local trees and he’s got a coal fired water boiler in there blowing steam up his fat arse!”
The men all began to laugh at this, until one of them pointed up a tree to a lounging house cat that was coolly observing them. Instantly all the men stopped laughing and went back to tending the fire and themselves. A few cast angry stares at the cat before returning to their business.
“You sure he can’t hear us through that cat?” one of the men whispered to his companion, carefully turning his head away from the watching cat.
“I ain’t sure of nothin’ anymores.” Came the reply.
The cat began licking itself as it watched the campfire and the men.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Nearby a small party cautiously approached the campsite. Alerted by the scent of roses in the air they moved with great skill and deliberation through the thick undergrowth of the old woods. Piles of plant debris and leaves easily muffled most sounds as they proceeded towards the unsuspecting mercenaries.
Hwilli, always one to go off on his own signaled to his friends that he was going to circle around the camp and report back. Before anyone could gainsay him he was gone into the underbrush without a sound.
Oscar carefully rehearsed his spells in his mind as the group resumed its slow advance towards the campfire. He knew that it was critical to gain a few moments of advantage on the group when they attacked. He also knew that going off by oneself into unknown terrain would most likely end badly.
“Can you hold them when we attack?” Elessar whispered as he rechecked his quiver of gull feather fletched arrows. “We need them still for a few moments when we spring the ambush.”
“I just need some trees and such to anchor my spell, and considering where we are it shouldn’t be a problem.” Oscar whispered back with a grin. “This old growth is perfect for webs; it will hold them all day if I anchor it right.”
Elessar grinned back with a thumbs up, and moved silently away from his companion.
Gwalin stumbled through the undergrowth but had the presence of mind to remain silent, the thick padded floor of the forest offered him no comfort, and the looming presence of the trees made him feel uncomfortable and exposed. Every time a tree creaked or a branch rustled he was sure it was about to come crashing down upon him.
“Rotten trees.” He grumbled looking up and about nervously, “you never know when one is going to just drop a branch on you or fall over. I prefer the solidness of rock and stone, especially if it’s been tended by my brethren.” Still he moved as quietly as he could through the wood and held his war axe ready for the ambush.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Potiphar gasped with pleasure as he slid into the steaming scented water of his bath. Gallons of displaced liquid splashed upon the floor as his considerable bulk sank into the specially constructed tub. He fumbled for a moment before grasping a sponge-headed scrub brush that sat on a nearby table. Then he began to scrub at himself as he happily breathed in the scented air.
“Anything is better than the smell of this rotten forest.” He exclaimed to himself as he bathed. A few cats began scampering about the inside of the bath hut. They were playing with a bee that had been attracted by the overwhelming floral fragrance. It buzzed about the inside of the hut seeking a bunch of roses and only finding thick steam and some fast moving felines.
From its perch high up in a tree, a cat looked away from the campfire and scanned the nearby woods, hoping to spot a squirrel or small bird to satisfy its urge to kill something. A movement nearby caught its attention and it focused its attention upon the spot for a few moments. A squat figure moved slowly through the bushes, carefully brushing aside any branches that might entangle or impede its process.
Instantly the cat became alarmed and it concentrated upon its Master, sending a silent warning of a threat.
Potiphar instantly saw a cats-eye view of the dwarf moving through the undergrowth towards his camp. Alarmed, he slipped and sloshed about inside his bath as he tried to extract himself from the tub.
Not even considering warning his men, Potiphar instead quickly dressed and armed himself as he ordered his cats to come to his aid. He remembered the reports of the dwarf and the boy from an earlier attack and now feared for his life.
“They mustn’t get me!” he blubbered as he prepared to rush out of the hut in his somewhat soaking tunic.
Screams and sounds of battle penetrated the thin canvas door flap just as he began to brush it aside.
“Praise Shar, they are attacking the men first.” He thought as he exited the hut and turned to flee towards a nearby path. “Cats come to me!” he mentally called upon his servants as he dashed down the sodden path.
A cloud of thick sticky webs suddenly surrounded him and stopped his flight.
“A mage!” he thought as he tore at his limbs trying to free himself. His nearby cat companions began hissing and tearing at the engulfing webs, some of which fell into a nearby moldering campfire and were ignited by its hot embers.
Now truly terrified Potiphar tore his hands free of the webs and summoned a shimmering cloak of force around his body. His years of study under a cantankerous wizard paid off as he was able to summon arcane forces to his aid even while impeded. An arrow bounced off the mystic armor as he began pulling himself free of the webs.
“Get the mage!” he sent a mental order to his cats as he struggled to escape the webs. In a moment there were sounds of hissing and spitting as several cats tore into the very surprised Oscar who now had to deal with a pair of scratching, biting housecats that appeared to be insane with anger.
Hwilli meanwhile had moved himself almost entirely around the camp and had only just finished climbing a convenient tree when the battle broke out. He laid his body flat against the thick limb of the tree and pulled his slung crossbow around his body as he scanned the melee below. One of the mercs seemed to be rallying the others so he snapped a quarrel off in his direction. The mercenary stopped shouting and grasped at the bolt that protruded through his upper arm. He then turned and ran towards a nearby cave entrance.
“Now, what could be in there eh?” he wondered as he watched the fleeing man run shouting into the tunnel. “Mebbe it’s where they have that gate thing we’re looking for!” he thought excitedly as he recocked his crossbow.
Potiphar tore off the last of the webs just before they burst into flame; he then turned and ran towards the cave entrance, leaving behind the rest of the battle. He never noticed Hwilli up in the nearby tree observing his flight.
Hwilli took sight upon Potiphars large rear-end and let fly with a quarrel just as Potiphar entered the tunnel mouth. The bolt traveled unerringly to its target, only to be deflected away scant inches from its goal. Hwilli’s last sight of the fleeing man was his shadow disappearing into the cave.
“Now that seems to be the place to be.” He thought as he quickly shimmied down the tree and ran towards the tunnel entrance.
Oscar tore off the last of his cat attackers and threw it into the nearby burning mass of webs; he noticed Hwilli rushing into the cave and began to yell a warning to the Halfling.
“Wait Hwilli!” he shouted but it was already too late, the ever un-cautious Hwilli had rushed into the darkness in pursuit of Potiphar.
Oscar noticed that the majority of the fighting was over; his companions had taken advantage of their ambush to lay low the demoralized mercenaries.
“Where’s Potiphar?” Gwalin asked as he shook the blood off of his axe. “I thought I saw a big human running over by you.”
“He made for a cave over there.” Oscar began, pointing at the direction of the cave. “Worse, it seems that Hwilli followed him into it.”
“Not again!” grated the Dwarf as he smacked his forehead in dismay. “He never, ever waits!”
“Then let us be after him then.” Elessar turned and moved towards the cave without waiting for his friends to follow. “He may need our help, or if not, we’d best see he doesn’t steal everything he finds for himself.”
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 16 Nov 2005 : 22:27:53
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In a state of near total terror Potiphar ran deep into the mine looking for an escape from his tormentors.
"Why me?" he gasped as he ran past some makeshift defences that his men had thrown together. "Why do they keep at me? Its as if they knew about.." He stopped suddenly and turned pale as the thought continued.
Potiphar shuddered for a few moments then collected his thoughts, a sly smile came to his face as he noticed a nearby cat come over curiously to him. He leaned over and began stroking the cat and whispering into its perked up ears. After a few moments of stroking he released the cat who ran off down the tunnel in the direction of his previous flight. Potiphar watched it go with mild regret.
"Better you than me my pet." he whispered as the cat disappeard around a bend in the tunnel. Potiphar opened his hand and looked at the few cat hairs that he'd plucked from the cat. He began casting a potent spell and then swallowed the hairs. With a flash he morphed into a copy of the cat.
From the tunnel came a cry of suprise as the copy-cat was spotted and the pursuit began again. The new cat turned and confidently padded off deeper into the tunnels depths purring happily.
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Prince Forge of Avalon
Learned Scribe
USA
117 Posts |
Posted - 19 Nov 2005 : 02:23:26
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| OMG, no way, I do so hope we didnt kill the wrong Potiphar!! |
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Druzar Darkwolf
Acolyte
USA
3 Posts |
Posted - 26 Nov 2005 : 23:10:59
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Excerpt from Oscar Frendick’s Journal
“Well, it seems that we have finally retrieved the ale that went missing for Our Lady. After chasing the one responsible all over of the place and putting an end to his misuse.
That tip from the Elven forester regarding the river folk was very helpful. I’ll need to buy him another drink should we cross paths again in the taverns. Too bad the servants of the one we pursued didn’t know about the sacrifice, but given their resistances to leaving us alone to talk with their employer, no tears will I shed.
That missing ale tasted very good after the long trek back to Our Lady’s House, but the tale of how she received it is unsettling. Seems the misuse of the fat one may not have been put to an end after all, since she received the missing ale, and more, with an apologetic note from mister fat a few days after we thought he drowned.
My dwarven companion did go on for some time after that about ways we may have missed the real fat one. He may well be right, but my thoughts are: ‘We are alive, and the ale tastes good. Should we run across the fat boy again, we will see what is what at that point.’
Besides, giving an associate the item that the fat boy owned, the one the associate had asked us to inquire about, seems to have satisfied them. It is an item I doubt I would have let go should I be moving on to another town.
Oh well, excellent ale, good food, a warm room and fine tales to tell are enough for the moment. The troubles of tomorrow will find us, so it is time to enjoy today. Soon enough we will be back in the wild, hunting for that passage Our Lady told us about.
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Sgain
Acolyte
Canada
32 Posts |
Posted - 27 Nov 2005 : 22:19:07
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For hours the old man had sat motionless at the doorway of the longhouse looking out at the falling rain. Heavy raindrops splattered off of the nearby trees and splashed into puddles that they’d created. The old man huddled deep in his thick black robe as he patently waited for the rain to abate; his eyes never seemed to blink as he observed the weather. Nearby, his honor guard would occasionally look nervously at each other as they wondered at their Master’s stillness.
Finally the rain storm passed and in a few moments the sky cleared and several stars began to shine through the thinning cloud. With a spring that caught his honor guard by surprise the old man leapt to his feet and rushed out into the nearby clearing in front of the longhouse. He threw back his hood and gazed intently up into the heavens and began muttering words of power. The honor guard set up a perimeter around him and fell to their knees facing outward; they did not wish to see the one the Master was summoning, especially if he succeed and the God was brought forth.
A deep cold feel upon the humid jungle as a thick darkness began to settle upon the group. Chills ran up the spines of the guard as they gripped their spears to steady their trembling hands. Their Master’s voice could be heard, but his words meant nothing to the guard as he was speaking in the old tongue, that which none of them knew well. After a few long moments of discussion the darkness lifted as well as the chill and the master’s voice came to the guards from the center of the circle.
“Purveyors, come to me.” He commanded in his deep voice. Instantly the guard stood, turned and joined the Master. He gazed up at each of their painted faces and seemed to stare into their very hearts, and then he looked up at the stars and pointed with a wrinkled hand at the twinkling light.
“God has spoken to me, my Purveyors, and he has told me that someone is soon to come to our land.” His statement brought gasps of religious terror from the guards, none of whom wished to be in the presence of their God. “Yes, someone is coming, and with that person will come change to our homes. Yet the future is clouded and unsure even now.”
Nearby in the jungle a howl like a wolf came to their ears. Instantly the guard spun about and readied their spears to defend the Master. The dreaded dog men were in the jungle hunting and this meant danger to their people.
The Master cackled with laughter at the sound of the howl, then he raised his gnarled wooden staff into the air and spoke a word of power. Instantly there was bright light filling the area and driving back the darkness. A few jungle creatures leapt away in terror at the light and the howl was again heard, but this time it was diminishing as if moving rapidly away.
“God has told me to watch for this stranger; for with him will come great change and challenges.” His eyes reflected the bright light of the staff with a fanatics gleam as he looked up at the stars. “We shall increase our patrols and watch the dog men for sign that they have seen the stranger. We must find him first, and see if he is for good or evil.”
One of the guards spoke up hesitantly “Master how will we know this stranger?” All of the guards looked nervous at this questioning of the Master who had been known to flay anyone who questioned him.
The old man turned his gaze from the sky and looked at the guard for a moment. Then he smiled and the guards felt a lifting of their tension; the Master didn’t seem angry. After moments contemplation the Master smiled and spoke to the guard.
“God has shown me and only me this vision. I shall be the one who judges this stranger and finds him worthy.” His voice grew colder as he spoke. “Now I shall judge you for your impudence. Go and gather me ten pairs of dog men ears. Do not return until you have done this or you shall face the test.”
The guard paled in fear; to gather that many ears was more than anyone had ever succeeded in doing, it was usually a test of joining the purveyors just to gather one pair of ears or the tail of a green skin. The guard knew this was a death sentence. He drew in his breath and raised his left hand palm out; showing a pale tattoo of a skull that was set in the center of his palm. Without another word he turned and ran into the nearby jungle.
The other purveyors watched him go bravely to certain death; they would wait a few days then check the impaling posts and skin stretchers that their enemies used to display their trophies. Then they would toast the soul of their brother who had joined their God.
The Master didn’t even look back as he shuffled towards the longhouse.
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Tales from Vain Roberts - Online Campaign
