This site is an online accumulation of the Post Reports for my current ongoing D&D Campaign - for anyone who might be interested in reading them.

Friday, September 20, 2019

Meet 94, Adv 6, 8/17/19

The group had a miserable time just at the front door of the place as it was the enemy stronghold and they had been prepared for the party by almost 2 hours - one of my players did the math and the enemy did over 100 hp of damage to the party about 5 times the amount we had done to them. Location location location.

And then after they ran away, they were captured by a bad run of the wandering monster dice - 70 fucking hobgoblins.

Hahahah - holy crap - that did not go as planned.

Write up follows:

The group walked around the west side of the Manorhouse towards the front of Ixitch’s stronghold, noting the same sort of sparse narrow windows here and there and the lack of anyone milling about. We were confident the Invisibility to Undead spell was still working as the severed heads on spikes still made Brading’s skin tingle. The stables (that we could now see) were in poor condition, 2 of the 4 stalls had a fallen thatched roof upon their wooden supports. No steeds were visible.

There were three oversized trees through and at least a half dozen crows were perched on the branches and staring down at the party, cawing loudly as they shuffled from branch to branch. Darius was concerned that if this entire thing went south, we had no easy way to escape short of heading back to the wall and trying to climb over. So instead we went to the front gate and took a look. Chain and lock were newish but we figured on busting one of the links. Shim fired a ray of frost at one of the links and Barb used a crowbar to force one of the links open – allowing us the snake the chain off the gate and giving us a way to get out of here.

We went back the front door and decided that Barb was going to test it and if need be, slam it open. Thalin had his bow out, sleep spell at the ready, everyone else was set to shoot into the double wide entrance doors and then storm in but as the Half-orc barbarian was coming to the door she smelled lamp oil coming from the soggy ground in front of the place and she backed up quick.

The front area was set up to go on fire. She shuffled her feet a bit to get the residual oil off and the group discussed plans again, deciding this time to burn off the oil with a tossed torch and then force the doors open. Seemed like a good plan and we lit a torch, tilted it back to throw…

And someone inside the Manorhouse hit us with a Fireburst spell again. Barb was on fire and she fell to the ground rolling as Brading used a blanket to help put her out. The torch DID get tossed to the oil which was on fire and burning the area near the front door and we let it burn while healing Barb again. Brading let us know that his spells were dwindling and we were starting to think that this might be harder than we expected.

Barb took out her threaded rod and approached the front of the Manor house, stepping near the closest window (10” wide, 4’ tall, 2’ deep – homespun curtain obscuring view on the inside). She then stuck the rod through the window, snagged the curtain, and twisted it around and around until the curtain was wrapped around the rod and she pulled…ripping the curtain free and making one window less likely to have a mage hiding behind it.

By this time the two half-ogre zombies wandering around the place came towards the front of the building and then each one of them stopped…right in front of the doors to the Manorhouse and stood there staring out at us, but not seeing us. Ok, fuck, that was pretty smart for whoever was controlling them.

We needed to move them and it was thought that Brading would call upon Heimdall to turn the zombies away. So the dwarven priest stepped up, symbol presented before him, and called out to Heimdall for aid. And the Zombies rippled, twisted, and then with a breathy moan, turned and ran (fast shuffled) their way out of the area – splitting up as they tried to get away.

Ok, this was it, front door was clear – it was time. Thalin had bow out, spell at the ready for possible sleep, Darius had his sling, Shim was full of spells, Brading hand axe and holy symbol…And it was Barb forcing the door open.

Large entrance room, two double doors leading out of the place and a side corridor, three zombies just on the inside of the door, large harpy statue to the right of the door, and in front of each double door out of the entrance hall were three flabowmen each and one of the mastiff guard dogs.

And the quarrels flew. Barb was struck as the 18” shafts slammed through armor, knocked her down, and then over – killing her.

What the hell?!?!

Brading went to step forward to heal her as the three zombies stepped up, two of them tripping on her and breaking the spell, while the third swept around and was making a beeline for the dwarven cleric. The camp dog was let off the leach and CHARGED the group going to jump for Brading. Darius let his sling fly and slammed into one of the crossbowmen so hard he was tossed back and hunched over, hands wrapped around his midsection.

After a single volley the crossbowmen were already looking the head back OUT of the combat and through the double doors further into the manorhouse. To keep the camp dog off Brading Shim uncoiled his whip and slashed it at the dog who caught a painful wound and turned to leap upon the gnome sorcerer, bearing him to the ground and critically mauling him, ripping his face open from eye socket to ear and then TEARING his ear off the right side of his head! Darius and Thalin shot at the dog, weakening it and trying to keep it from killing the gnome.

And the two Zombies on Barb were STOMPING their feet down on the unconscious and dying Barb – breaking bones and trying to finish the job. Brading called to Heimdall and two of the three zombies turned tail and ran back into the keep and around the corner leaving just one who was making it his personal effort to get Barb to -10.

Darius tackled the zombie, driving it off of Barb which allowed Brading to try and heal her. Meanwhile Thalin fired off a magic missile and blasted the dog to death. Barb opened her eyes and tried to focus, Darius and the Zombie grappling with each other right over her head. She crawled a few paces to her threaded rod, grew ANGRY and raged, and then in a prone position, swung it with all her might at the zombie’s leg.

Shattering one of its shin bones and the undead ogre fell over bearing Darius to the ground with him. The fighter twisted and elbowed and shoved just breaking the grapple as he struggled away and we all drew shaky breaths. The undead zombie stood up and fell over, its leg not supporting itself, so it did it again and then started crawling towards us fairly adroitly.

Most of us badly hurt, almost no healing available, and we hadn’t even made it INTO the entrance hall yet, Darius suggested very strongly that we get the hell out of here and now. No one argued it and we double timed it to the gate, past the cawing crows and excited noises, and then to the main road when we went back to the Highway and made out way Southwest as quick as we could.

With nowhere else in mind to go to, the thought was to go to the farmstead we stayed at before and hoped to hole up there – but we were very convinced Ixitch could follow us and might already be doing so. One problem at a time. Once at the farmstead we went past the few chickens there and unlocked the place again. Inside we relaxed and Barb slipped back into exhaustion as the crossbow bolts were STILL IN HER BODY AS WE RAN.

We spent some time taking them out and Brading shared what healing he had left, potions were handed out, and we took stock of ourselves.

We got out ass kicked.

They knew we were there, we knew they were watching us, and they were well prepared for us to come in and rained all sorts of pain down on us. And what did they lose? 1 guard dog was slain and one zombie had its leg broken. This was not going to work for us and we needed a new plan to assault them.

But we couldn’t stay here. This was too close to their point of operation and with all the chicken outside and now crowded around the door (between hearing us, seeing us, and Barb feeding them bread under the door) this was not going to be a safe place for us to stay.

The decision was we’d sneak out the side window, head north for a bit and then west and get lost in the hills, finding someplace to hold up for a few days and then go back to Ixitch’s place and this time not screw around but just charge the front door before they have a chance to prepare for our attack.

Darius managed to open the window and once we all got outside, hurting and sore, we closed the window behind us, left the squawking chickens alone, and travelled north through the rough terrain and winter grasses. After 20 minutes or so we turned west and were lost in the foothills. Coming to a decent sized copse of pines we stopped to heal again, bind more wounds, and take stock of our situation. We were boned and needed a better base of operations. We were going to head more to the west and hopefully pick up a road and small town to stop out and then come up with a proper assault plan.

That didn’t happen either.

Not too much later that that as we were walking through the cold hills we crested the top of one and saw…a military encampment of dozens of tents, horses, and orderly lines of orange haired tall green skinned goblinoid figured.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.. Damn it.

We went to back away but our presence was noted and two sets of riders rode up to us spear and lances at the ready while another half dozen charged up the hill towards us, the tall hobgoblin leader sneering at us. He identified himself as Lieutenant Bloodtusk and branded us as spies. We were forced to drop weapons and shields, then we were escorted to a prisoner’s wagon where a half orc named Dwarlow was, pretty beaten up and was going to be prisoner of the Bloodtusks for the next 2 years for mouthing off to them.

The Bloodtusks were going to take their assault against a local orcish tribe that had raided the hobgoblin’s cave system earlier this year (no, not the Wolf Skull Orcs) – and it was thought we were working for them. Hobgoblins HATE elves and gnomes so it was best that Thalin and Shim say nothing. They left us alone for a few hours until they came back and demanded to know who was in charge. Whoever was in charge is responsible for the group – including punishment. So who was it?

Darius didn’t understand the language, so that left Brading and Barb to talk – and Barb was pretty wounded. The Bloodtusks were convinced that the two of them were NOT friends as dwarves and orcs don’t get along and suspected a ruse. But when Brading stepped up as the person to be in charge, he was pulled from the wagon, stripped of everything except pants, and was told he WAS going to get 10 lashes – but he had to work for the Bloodtusk’s first – digging latrine trenches. A job for a slave, not a hobgoblin warrior.

We watched him being led away and were growing very concerned now. What was to happen next? If Thalin or Shim did ANYTHING magical they would just be killed out of hand and we figured to lay low for now.

At that point one of the shaman Irilius and his followers came, called out for a detection, and took note of what items the party had on them that were magical. But the shaman looked at Shim and had the gnome dragged out of the wagon and stripped. They took his potion of flight and the shaman and Shim talked – inside a circle of solace as well as a zone of truth. And Shim was forthcoming. The Shaman was a good listener and came to the realization that the group was NOT aligned with the orcs and were actually a fairly good aligned force. It wasn’t exactly said but the Shaman paid close attention to the idea of Scratch and seemed to be disturbed at its implications and how it would affect other orcs.

Eventually he made the call that Shim and his group would be given the benefit of the doubt and would let the Lieutenant know that they could be trusted. But Shim still had to take 5 lashes. Um…what?!?!?

The gnome was held in place and was whipped 5 times across his own back until he passed out from the pain. And then tossed back in the wagon. The gnome was whipped…with his own whip. And the Shaman took it.

Then as for Brading, he had finished the job and then was taken from camp where the Lieutenant told him he was to be whipped. BUT – according to the Shaman and his advisors, the group’s presence was most likely guided by Maglubiyet, the goblin god. So here was the deal – if Brading could take 10 whippings and NOT pass out, the Bloodtusk clan would better equip his group AND lend them 4 of his warriors to help assault the Ixitch Homestead.

If he could not, then they would be kept for a year and a day and then set free, but still better equipped at that time.

Brading took the deal. The dwarf took lash upon lash, held in place as the whip crisscrossed his flesh. As he grew weaker he called on Heimdall twice to heal him and hopefully remove the painful wounds – and then it had been 8 lashes and he was tottering in agony but still awake. He was given a chance to commute his final whippings to Barb – but he refused. Then he was given an opportunity to just have Thalin killed outright as a commute – and again he refused.

The last two whippings fell…and they were just very light hits on the dwarf.

The Bloodtusks were impressed with Brading’s refusal to break himself and pass further injury to his people. He was told he would be considered a Corporal to the Bloodtusks and they were going to spend the next three days getting better outfitted and introduced to the 4 warriors that were going to go with them back to Ixitch’s homestead.

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