We have a large group around the table now, larger than I've had for some time (most of my groups have been 4-5): when everyone is there I have 8 people - not counting my daughter who comes around with plastic food, my girlfriend who sits behind my screen with me now and again and wonders what the hell is going on, and various player's significant others who show up from time and again.
One of my fears about larger groups is the game dragging down slower and slower - but I am very pleased with the people who've come to join us. All 3 of them are engaging, willing to jump right in, trying to work WITH the group instead of AGAINST it, and lastly funny.
And frankly funny is one of the most important things. We get together around a table because there is a social aspect that is missing from EQ2 or WOW or the like even with the best Ventirllo servers. And when good natured people get together in a state of camaraderie at some point the jokes and funnies will flow.
And that was my last meeting. It's been a while since I've laughed behind the DM's screen that long and that hard (the last time was when this current group had a penchant for whipping out the 500# gorilla and throwing it in the main bad guy NPC's face) but this has been the case at the recent game. I'm still thinking about it:
(Laugh number 1) Paladin, shining straight and true, maybe a flowing cape and a sword, wraps his face with the tail of his cloak and runs into a filthy fly and maggot choked cleft in a cave rife with rotting fish heads, decaying meat and whatnot and on the fourth step gets overcome from the stench and slams onto his face in the slurry of run off and passes out. And no one wants to risk going in there to get him.
(Laugh number 2) Paladin has come out, admonished to be safer, and the group uses ropes to get the "treasure" on the dead guy out of the back of the cleft. Rest of group runs away from the paladin and dead guy and paladin reaches down to take treasure - gets hit with rot grubs. Jumping around with a knife and yelling, "Shit! Fuck! Shit! Help!" as he is stabbing himself in the wrist, forearm and bicep in a mad effort to kill the wriggling worms burrowing under his skin. And then he steps in the shallow pool and a pair of 2' long lampreys attack to his ankle and shin and he's still dancing around yelling and stabbing himself and with sucking leech like worms flapping about his foot as he is jumping and hollering.
I know you have to be there sometimes to get the full image, but really - it's 3 Stooges like material.
Write up follows:
The broken bits of the Drooling Queen and her passengers fell through a chasm in the sewer’s floor, a whirlpool that ran through rock, mud, and gravelly stone until we slipped and fell a short distance into even more water. The pattering of falling rock and water rained on top of us in the darkness until the hole above us was choked off and plugged from above. Zoltan whistled up a quick light spell and in the glow of the eldritch light we all rejoined one another. The water was about 4 and a half deep and flowed very sluggishly in one direction, a wall visible in one direction the other wall and ceiling out of our vision. A few large pieces of the fungus boat were here, many smaller ones still abounding. Gwyn, the shortest in the group, snagged one of the bigger pieces for himself and Damian offered to drag it behind him with some rope. Arnog held Detheron’s lantern aloft after the druid had it lit and we talked about our options.
Going back was not a choice. The area we were in was perhaps 30’ wide and the roof was maybe 30’ over our heads. We talked for a bit and looked through our belongings, dismayed to find that most of us with scrolls, paper, or journals had our items soaked and in some cases ruined. We opted to go “upstream” and walked that way.
The water deepened slowly and the roof came lower. One by one the party was forced to hold onto Gwyn’s floating piece of the boat until it was obvious we couldn’t go much further. Detheron stripped down and handing his equipment and clothes to Arnog concentrated and transformed himself into a large 50# snapping turtle. Then getting his bearings swam further upstream. It wasn’t much longer before the water was fully under the stone ceiling and deepened to 10’ or so deep. He had gone for a little bit but there was no way the party was going to make it this far – so he turned back and swam for the group, informing them of what he had seen.
With a lack of other choices we went downstream, finding out shortly that the roof was dropping in height and the water was deepening this way as well. We did catch up to other pieces of floating fungus and the group all grabbed pieces of them to float on. We kicked and floated our way along until the pathway had narrowed to 15’ and it sounded like it was getting to an open area up ahead. At this point we strung ourselves together into a single line with Zoltan and Gwyn at opposite ends (strong swimmers) with Arnog, Damian, and Coruth’tae in the middle, the grey elf having cast Tenser’s Floating Disk on which both Olthar and Soren sat upon with eyes peeled and bow ready. Detheron and his tiger swam behind and we moved on.
The stream opened into some smallish underground lake, our voices and noises echoing in the gloom. Zoltan tried hard and listened for the distant sound of shore, guessing it was ahead of us and to our right. Detheron called on Frey and asked to locate animals – feeling lots of small blind cave fish – but also two 15’ long slowly undulating eels some distance away. Soren readied an arrow while it was hit with a light spell and shot in the direction that Zoltan guessed was land – the illuminated bolt soaring over the water and indeed passing over a sizeable outcropping of stone.
We began swimming in that direction, one of the eels coming towards us. Detheron hit it with a Hold Animal spell and we kicked onward eventually reaching the isle. It wasn’t large – a collection of stone maybe 25’ diameter, with the remains of what seemed to be a log raft on it, a single body half lying in the water decayed to just bones, rusty ringmail, and a split backpack. We checked over the island the body – human, dead at least 2 years, most of his gear useless. Some spikes, empty potion bottles, boots were in good shape as was the scimitar (tarnished silver hilt with the word “Silverwind” on the blade), belt buckle was enchanted as well. We took off our wet clothes a bit while Damian and Gwyn made a small fire. Zoltan spent some time working on the remains of the raft in order to put it in some semblance of order again.
Our dead guy had a water soaked journal of which there was not much still legible except for the last page. We read it and figured that this was either a hireling or a member of Djohrgahd’s former adventuring group lost and forgotten a decade ago. Once ready we left the isle and used the raft, swimming to the east (we now knew that as per Detheron’s spells) towards the “beach”.
It was crusted with dead fish and some crusted algae, reeking but harmless. Once on the shore we pulled the boat up and looked around – our feeble light giving no indication to the great size of the cave – only our echoing voices and footsteps. We suspected there was something out there but couldn’t see it. Zoltan suggested, “Just blow your whistle Gwyn, and let whatever is out there know we are here”. It was definitely bold and the dwarf did so – the shrill silver sound echoing through the cave.
And they came. Three, then a fourth, dark creatures came and Damian was telling us where they were – the baddies staying just outside visible range. They were cool, the same temperate as the surrounding cave so infravision was useless as Gwyn found out standing just outside the light range bow in hand. He was attacked and staggered back holding his chest and yelling warning.
10’ tall, rubbery green and black skin, floppy almost boneless features, needle-like teeth, two of them assaulted us immediately, Zoltan losing his sling in the dark and Gwyn seeing his hydra spear although badly wounding one – the creature all 750 lbs ran PAST him into the water and then healed the wounds almost immediately. Water trolls, scrags. Capable of healing almost instantly if made wet. And we were fighting them on the edge of an underground lake.
Zoltan was bull rushed and driven into the water, the gypsy trying to break free and get around. Arrows and swords flew but the wounds were healed very quickly. Coruth’tae used a Hypnotism spell to convince one of the scrags to “take a swim” – and it did so – swimming further into the water! The rest of us fought a defensive retreat away from the shore line and into the cave proper.
A third one, bigger, over half a ton, decidedly female and a glint of genius in her beady black eyes watched the group from the limit of our light range, hands on haunches. Olthar tried to speak to her, but she either didn’t understand the wood elf or deigned to not answer. A fourth one came out, approaching us with a large bag in one hand. The one from the water emerged healed now and ran at us, running over caltrops while doing so, allowing us to get a good series of blows against it. It grew weaker and eventually fell but not before wounding a good number of the group.
The female scrag laughed at us and turned back walking into the water and away. We tried to skewer the scrag with the bag and the druid got lucky piercing it – it was filled with water. It grew wroth at that and hit the druid a few times hard, biting him deeply. We plied our efforts and in short order the 2nd scrag was dispatched. Gwyn doused the two of them with oil and set them ablaze while the group looked around more.
Just north of us was a depression in the stone floor filled with some oily skuzzy looking water. Damian went to stick his hand in and was immediately beset with lamprey like leeches attaching to his glove. He peeled off the garment and it fell back in the pool. Ok – don’t touch the pool. Beyond the pool to the north was the cave wall and some sort of depression. We looked it over and both Zoltan and Olthar fanned out to the extreme right and left to listen for any other scrags (or anything else).
Along the north wall just past the pool was a natural depression in the rock the scrags was using as a larder/pantry. An efflusivant mass of rotting fish, decaying flesh, moldy algae and slurry-like vegetation was stacked across the floor and on low stone shelves. The reek was like nothing ever scented before. But Damian thought he saw something in the back of the larder and opted to run in. Detheron thought it wasn’t a good idea but the headstrong paladin covered his face with his cloak and held his breath and ran in.
In four steps he collapsed to his knees, vomiting his guts out, overcome by the reek and stench and knocked out. The group stood outside the depression, none of them daring to chance the horrendous stink. Eventually it was decided on Gwyn using his grappling hook and a few tosses got it around the heavily armored paladin. It took two of them to pull him out over the slurry like oily floor only once he was free did they note that in their yanking had actually sunk the grapple into his shoulder near his neck. Detheron had to pull it free after soaking the paladin with all his water to wash off the filth and it wasn’t until he was mostly finished in patching up his shoulder that Damian regained consciousness.
He told us that before he passed out, in the back of the depression, was a drow with what seemed to be two long silvered swords in his waist. Zoltan took a look and sure enough, the keen eyed gypsy backed up Damian’s claim. Detheron wanted nothing to do with it and suggested we just move on, but the greed of the group took over and they wanted the silvered swords. But no was going to go back in (although Damian offered to – getting shot down).
We settled on a plan where we used Arnog’s 20’ length of entangling rope attached to regular rope and had the entire thing tossed in where it roped around the dead drow. Damian offered to pull the body out and the rest of the group all moved FAR away to not be near while this went on. The paladin pulled slowly, muscle and flesh sloughing off the bloated corpse, but it did come free. He then reached down and grabbed the swords – and got nailed with rot grubs.
The hateful creatures dug through his glove and burrowed into his flesh, two of them making their way in. He took out his knife and stabbed himself in the wrist trying to kill them while he was dancing around and yelling for help. He got lucky while wounding himself and did manage to kill one of them, but the other had come up to his bicep and he was having a difficult time hitting it. In his mad gyrations he accidentally stomped in the oily puddle – and got two of the lamprey like leech creatures on his feet, flopping about wildly as he was cursing and yelling and shouting.
Arnog grabbed for the leeches and pulled them free while Detheron used quick thinking and was able to cut the other rot grub away before it got too close to Damian’s chest. We healed up with what LITTLE was left, the group strung out and tired (it’s been a long day since seeing Jarul and then killing Yasmina, stealing a boat, sailing and pedaling, sinking dwarves, dropping down here, more water adventures, scrags, and finally this) and debated where we were going to try and hole up next.
According to Zoltan and Olthar, along the northern wall there were three potential caves - one was water logged and most likely where the bigger female scrag had gone, one was dry, and a third was wide but had some sort of troll sounds faintly coming down it. There might be other places but we have no idea how big this cavern is and maybe more exploring at this point when we are so light on resources isn't a good idea.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Meet 77, Adv 8, 9/26/09
Sometimes it's nice to change things up and introduce a new way of running chases/combat/adventuring to the group - as I had done this meeting. Wanted a boat chase across the sea with 3 distant dwarven vessels harrying the party as they made a made dash and run for the opposite shore.
And my players took to this very well, and then immediately took apart what "framework" I had around the encounter and looked for loopholes and exploits - and I couldn't have been happier. I WANT my players to feel challenged and to think outside the box. I don't have an adversarial relationship with my players (it's been over a decade and a half since I was a "killer DM") and the goal is for everyone to have fun at the table.
Fizzstone was there for bursts of speed and to triple the range of the harpoon - simple enough, it gets wet it spews air concentratedly for a full minute - the more you use, the bigger the explosion of compressed air. My players thought well and found ways to use the chase to their advantage: Turning the harpoon gun around (instead of a 180 degree arc), sleet storm spells over enemy open footlockers, lightning bolts (turning to ball lightning) under the water, using a Run spell to negate the exhaustion rolls on 2 of the characters, the dried fungus was VERY flammable, using their own bows, hell - even a FLAMING sphere in the middle of the other boats!
So what happened was they dominated the underground sea and took out all 3 enemy boats, and then neutralized the flying mage (who had sent the group running for their life 1 adventure earlier) and had done terrible damage to the 4th and final boat. However, the same benefits they had gotten by closing with the enemy vessels and using their large gamut of spells and skills also was used against them in this manner: flaming arrows and a devastating Charm Person spell on a fighter type - not known for their Will saves.
So this brings them to what I call the 4th level of Dargan's Folly, the Catacombs. A truly fun old-school dungeon crawl that will gear up the party, test their characters as players - not as skill checks, get some xp and levels under their belt, and answer some questions that have come up before they leave the underground at long last and return to the sunlit world and the "normal" thread of the adventure.
Write up follows:
We went in force to talk to Grix, checking over our supplies and equipment one last time. Damian was loathe to speak to the goblin Burghermeister, but once convinced it was our only choice, relented. On the way there was a large gathering of goblins gathered around a thirty count of acolytes performing some ablation to Odin, the All-Father, near the statue of the same god. The party could have gone through the crowd but feeling that it was not a smart idea were planning out other ways to get where they needed to. Cutting through back alleys was dropped and eventually it was decided to skirt the crowd and stay north near the Spider Paddocks.
The reek of arachnids was heavy and redolent but the group stayed outside the press of greenskins and made their way to Goblin Row. At the manor house they entered and went right to Grix’s office. A pair of goblins stood guard and one of them was willing to announce the party for 10 crowns. Asking the other one, he just did so, which had the two goblins fighting; even more so once a golden coin was tossed to the friendlier of the two.
Grix was willing to talk and told us most of what we had learned from Jarul. The name of the vessel was the Drooling Queen and that Yikzarch didn’t want Kashtir to send anymore of his Duergar over here. The group needed to leave and leave soon. We found out the name of the contact across the sea at the northern tip of the Outsider’s island, and the name of the contact at the gnomish encampment beyond there.
Our mission was to take the boat, maneuver our way across the sea, dock at the Duergar village (or park in the open sewer grate if the dock looked unsafe), stay for a few hours and then get smuggled across the larger part of the sea to the Gnomish area. Grix admitted he had told Yasmina about us before but that he was warning the party now – she was gunning for them – coming to his office 3 times in the last same number of hours.
Kashtir sent a patrol of 20 Duergar over here about 5 hours ago; and 2 hours ago, another patrol of 20 heavily armed and magi types came. They were patrolling Byfortvile looking to find what they could of the party. The feeling was that more patrols would come and it would be a matter of time before they would find the party, someone would turn the party over, or Yikzarch would dispatch his own goblin forces to fight the Duergar. That was what the acolytes of Odin were doing; praying to the All-Father for guidance and strength in what they felt was going to be the upcoming battle.
We left Grix’s office and once out at the street discussed quickly our plans. We were going to make it to the 2nd dock where the boat was holed up. Zoltan was made invisible by Coruth’tae, and the gypsy thief took the two wood elves with him, walking point some 60, 70 feet ahead of the rest of the group, relying on his bardic skill to whisper a warning back should it be needed.
We stayed down Goblin Row to the Aquifer and then went near the Ironbeard Stalagmite. It was Soren’s keen eyes that picked up the drow sitting on the stairs some 50’ up the spire’s side. At that moment the rest of the group couldn’t see him, and the drow didn’t know the elves were part of the party. Zoltan, invisible, kept his hands on the elves’ shoulders and told them to keep going, cutting near the vermin farm. He whistled a quick message spell and whispered back to Detheron what he had seen and the stay back and wait.
The other group heard Detheron’s relayance and they stopped near the corner of the Raging Horn for more instructions. But it was Soren who once again spotted the next threat – Yasmina herself in red leather standing in the shadows near the side of the Vermin Farm. Zoltan pushed the elves ahead and once they rounded the corner, the invisible thief snuck up behind the drow, both his blades drawn and poisoned – and stabbed her twice. She succumbed to the sleep poison but it was a quick slash across the throat the finished her off.
He tried to prop her up against the fence and hid behind her, looking to see if the drow on the Stalagmite noticed anything – he didn’t. Meanwhile Gwyn had loaded up his own crossbow with a quarrel, liberally dosed with Wyvern venom. With a touch from Damian and Detheron, each of the holy men calling on their gods to guide the dwarf’s aim, he stepped four paces up, took aim, and shot the drow male off his perch. He fell down the stalagmite, rolling to a stop at the bottom with a crunch and the group swarmed forward quickly.
They picked him up and walked quickly towards where the other three had been – the two elves and Zoltan already dragging Yasmina into a cul-de-sac and were stripping the drowess of her belongings. The two groups rejoined and stripping the bodies of all valuables left them in the dark alley in a lover’s embrace and went quickly down the street toward the docks.
Beyond a boat builders a pair of Ogres were watching the party but said nothing, instead flinging rats at a far wall and dragging the rodents back with cord tied around the vermin’s tail. The group went to the docks where 4 boats were tied up – identifying the Drooling Queen quickly. The boats were made of some sort of huge fungus coated with a clear resin and then affixed with brass plates along the sides and bottom. A set of 4 pedals were situated to power the two screws sticking out the back, a rudder in position for someone in the rear two seats to drive.
Over the screw shafts were brass chambers with a wheel lock. There was a box on the bottom of the boat with a latched top, within was about 30#’s of some sort of pumice looking off white stone. There was also a harpoon gun on the front of the boat with another one of those strange chambers and wheel locks in it. A thin barrel with 10 harpoons was there and two coils of 250’ cabled rope. The other boats seemed similarly outfitted (along with a 4 count of metal pails presumably for bailing should need be), and Detheron who had some boat experience in his youth announced that the vessels were sea worthy. Each boat could handle 10 easily and we loaded on carefully looking the situation over.
Some of the rock was taken and tossed in the water where it hissed and smoked and popped. Gwyn told us it was Fizzstone and was normally used in deep mines for quick oxygen where deep miners would drip water on the rock to supply fresh breathable air. The group then deduced the stone was used to add a burst of speed and power to the screws as well as power the harpoon gun.
It was at that moment that Zoltan noticed a 4 count of Duergar were talking to the two ogres – who were pointing to the docks we were still at. Time to go! We cut the ropes and Damian, Arnog, Detheron, and Gwyn began pedaling. We left the docks and the dwarves ran down yelling for us to come back. Arrows and spells met them and we pedaled away while an alarm was shouted out and Duergar in the distance ran towards the docks.
A couple pounds of the Fizzstone were added to the screw chambers and then closed – and the water seeping in through the shaft chamber hit the stone and a burst of steady speed hit the vessel as it lurched forward and reared a bit out of the water- putting distance between us and the dock and a boatload of pursuing dwarves. Zoltan turned the harpoon gun around and loaded up one, readying the chamber with a bit of Fizzstone. Our 4 pedalers were doing great and the gap between us and the dwarves was widening.
A few harpoons were shot back and forth but Zoltan got a good blow on the other ship as Detheron readied a spell, calling on Frey to let loose a Sleet Storm. The driving cold rain tore over the Duergar boat – hit the Fizzstone locker, and blew the center of the boat sky high. Duergar went flying and the other ship sunk beneath the waves. The party cheered.
As they pedaled on Coruth’tae read off a run spell from his pages and hit both Gwyn and Detheron with it – making the two of them able to pedal onward without growing weary! Good job! Another boat had loaded up and was giving chase and it seemed a 3rd was getting ready to shove off. The space between us was widening now to some 500’ feet and harpoon shots were flying wide. One of them did get lucky and blasted through the side of our vessel and hit Damian. The paladin tore the spear out and handed it up toward Zoltan while Gwyn used his bedroll to plug up the hole in the side of the fungus boat. Olthar began bailing as a little water seeped in.
Detheron readied another Sleet Storm while Zoltan took careful aim and blasted the enemy’s Fizzstone locker! Again cold rain drove down and the blast hit the dwarves – but not enough to sink the other boat.
Arnog and Damian were growing very tired, the constant pedaling wearying them down. They began to miss the beat of the pedals and the party’s boat, over half way now to the island, was not going forward as fast as before. And then the other boat had something happen and a spell was cast – as they Dimension Doored forward some 300 feet – VERY close to the party! Damn!
Zoltan took aim and harpooned the enemy Duergar mage on the other boat while Soren and Olthar shot other unarmored Duergar, assuming them to be mages as well. Missile fire and spell work took the other ship apart and it was in no time before it sunk beneath the waves, ablaze and floundering with the terrified Duergar yelling for help.
At this point the group WANTED to go after the other fungus boat. Using an illusion of the ship having a wall behind it (ridiculous of course, but it WAS supposed to be) they actually turned around and closed the distance to the other ship. Zoltan had turned the harpoon gun back to normal and the group stayed behind the illusion which made it seem like they were much further away. As the distance grew smaller and smaller it wasn’t until it was under 60’ and then the party let loose. Lightning bolts tore through the ship’s bottom, harpoons ripped the side off, crossbows and arrows peppered yelling dwarves – but it was Detheron’s Flaming Sphere that ate the center of the ship and set the dwarves ablaze. It broke apart and sunk and Soren shot a couple of still swimming dwarves – leaving one alive to “continue the legend”.
Turning back around we went on our way unbothered toward the Duergar encampment, the distance closing. At roughly 3-400’ from the docks we noticed a flying Duergar wizard coming closer, at the same time rounding the far end of the island’s hook was another fungus boat, loaded with 10 furiously pedaling and angry looking dark dwarves.
We used what Fizzstone we had and powered the boat forward at the same time that Zoltan took aim with the harpoon gun, landing and incredible shot – ON the flying dwarf! The flying dwarf turned away and was struggling to get back to land while the rest of the group poured it on. Detheron changed his direction and angled not for the docks anymore, but the 15’ wide sewer opening we could see like a culvert under the city.
Harpoon was shot at the boat, ripping into the side of it and opening a fresh rent. Olthar and Soren took to bailing while Zoltan turned the harpoon gun around and readied another bolt. We were getting close and Coruth’tae let fly a lightning bolt under the other dwarven boat, lifting the vessel up but not sinking it. Two of the dwarves fired flaming arrows at our boat and Zoltan harpooned theirs. Their harpoon just missed ours and we pedaled hard when one of the other dwarves cast Charm Person on Arnog – and had the party’s fighter kick in the side of our boat!
Gwyn struggled to knock Arnog out, the fighter knocking large holes in the side of the fungus boat, water rushing in. Detheron tried to Flaming Sphere the other vessel but the dwarves were able to constantly bail the fire and in the subsequent mess, we just missed the side of the culvert, the stone wall tearing sheets of brass off our boat, the fungus growing sodden and soft. The boat shuddered and we slipped forward into some sort of crack in the culvert and the Drooling Queen broke apart and we were sucked down the whirlpool; cold dark water splashing against our faces as we slipped under.
And my players took to this very well, and then immediately took apart what "framework" I had around the encounter and looked for loopholes and exploits - and I couldn't have been happier. I WANT my players to feel challenged and to think outside the box. I don't have an adversarial relationship with my players (it's been over a decade and a half since I was a "killer DM") and the goal is for everyone to have fun at the table.
Fizzstone was there for bursts of speed and to triple the range of the harpoon - simple enough, it gets wet it spews air concentratedly for a full minute - the more you use, the bigger the explosion of compressed air. My players thought well and found ways to use the chase to their advantage: Turning the harpoon gun around (instead of a 180 degree arc), sleet storm spells over enemy open footlockers, lightning bolts (turning to ball lightning) under the water, using a Run spell to negate the exhaustion rolls on 2 of the characters, the dried fungus was VERY flammable, using their own bows, hell - even a FLAMING sphere in the middle of the other boats!
So what happened was they dominated the underground sea and took out all 3 enemy boats, and then neutralized the flying mage (who had sent the group running for their life 1 adventure earlier) and had done terrible damage to the 4th and final boat. However, the same benefits they had gotten by closing with the enemy vessels and using their large gamut of spells and skills also was used against them in this manner: flaming arrows and a devastating Charm Person spell on a fighter type - not known for their Will saves.
So this brings them to what I call the 4th level of Dargan's Folly, the Catacombs. A truly fun old-school dungeon crawl that will gear up the party, test their characters as players - not as skill checks, get some xp and levels under their belt, and answer some questions that have come up before they leave the underground at long last and return to the sunlit world and the "normal" thread of the adventure.
Write up follows:
We went in force to talk to Grix, checking over our supplies and equipment one last time. Damian was loathe to speak to the goblin Burghermeister, but once convinced it was our only choice, relented. On the way there was a large gathering of goblins gathered around a thirty count of acolytes performing some ablation to Odin, the All-Father, near the statue of the same god. The party could have gone through the crowd but feeling that it was not a smart idea were planning out other ways to get where they needed to. Cutting through back alleys was dropped and eventually it was decided to skirt the crowd and stay north near the Spider Paddocks.
The reek of arachnids was heavy and redolent but the group stayed outside the press of greenskins and made their way to Goblin Row. At the manor house they entered and went right to Grix’s office. A pair of goblins stood guard and one of them was willing to announce the party for 10 crowns. Asking the other one, he just did so, which had the two goblins fighting; even more so once a golden coin was tossed to the friendlier of the two.
Grix was willing to talk and told us most of what we had learned from Jarul. The name of the vessel was the Drooling Queen and that Yikzarch didn’t want Kashtir to send anymore of his Duergar over here. The group needed to leave and leave soon. We found out the name of the contact across the sea at the northern tip of the Outsider’s island, and the name of the contact at the gnomish encampment beyond there.
Our mission was to take the boat, maneuver our way across the sea, dock at the Duergar village (or park in the open sewer grate if the dock looked unsafe), stay for a few hours and then get smuggled across the larger part of the sea to the Gnomish area. Grix admitted he had told Yasmina about us before but that he was warning the party now – she was gunning for them – coming to his office 3 times in the last same number of hours.
Kashtir sent a patrol of 20 Duergar over here about 5 hours ago; and 2 hours ago, another patrol of 20 heavily armed and magi types came. They were patrolling Byfortvile looking to find what they could of the party. The feeling was that more patrols would come and it would be a matter of time before they would find the party, someone would turn the party over, or Yikzarch would dispatch his own goblin forces to fight the Duergar. That was what the acolytes of Odin were doing; praying to the All-Father for guidance and strength in what they felt was going to be the upcoming battle.
We left Grix’s office and once out at the street discussed quickly our plans. We were going to make it to the 2nd dock where the boat was holed up. Zoltan was made invisible by Coruth’tae, and the gypsy thief took the two wood elves with him, walking point some 60, 70 feet ahead of the rest of the group, relying on his bardic skill to whisper a warning back should it be needed.
We stayed down Goblin Row to the Aquifer and then went near the Ironbeard Stalagmite. It was Soren’s keen eyes that picked up the drow sitting on the stairs some 50’ up the spire’s side. At that moment the rest of the group couldn’t see him, and the drow didn’t know the elves were part of the party. Zoltan, invisible, kept his hands on the elves’ shoulders and told them to keep going, cutting near the vermin farm. He whistled a quick message spell and whispered back to Detheron what he had seen and the stay back and wait.
The other group heard Detheron’s relayance and they stopped near the corner of the Raging Horn for more instructions. But it was Soren who once again spotted the next threat – Yasmina herself in red leather standing in the shadows near the side of the Vermin Farm. Zoltan pushed the elves ahead and once they rounded the corner, the invisible thief snuck up behind the drow, both his blades drawn and poisoned – and stabbed her twice. She succumbed to the sleep poison but it was a quick slash across the throat the finished her off.
He tried to prop her up against the fence and hid behind her, looking to see if the drow on the Stalagmite noticed anything – he didn’t. Meanwhile Gwyn had loaded up his own crossbow with a quarrel, liberally dosed with Wyvern venom. With a touch from Damian and Detheron, each of the holy men calling on their gods to guide the dwarf’s aim, he stepped four paces up, took aim, and shot the drow male off his perch. He fell down the stalagmite, rolling to a stop at the bottom with a crunch and the group swarmed forward quickly.
They picked him up and walked quickly towards where the other three had been – the two elves and Zoltan already dragging Yasmina into a cul-de-sac and were stripping the drowess of her belongings. The two groups rejoined and stripping the bodies of all valuables left them in the dark alley in a lover’s embrace and went quickly down the street toward the docks.
Beyond a boat builders a pair of Ogres were watching the party but said nothing, instead flinging rats at a far wall and dragging the rodents back with cord tied around the vermin’s tail. The group went to the docks where 4 boats were tied up – identifying the Drooling Queen quickly. The boats were made of some sort of huge fungus coated with a clear resin and then affixed with brass plates along the sides and bottom. A set of 4 pedals were situated to power the two screws sticking out the back, a rudder in position for someone in the rear two seats to drive.
Over the screw shafts were brass chambers with a wheel lock. There was a box on the bottom of the boat with a latched top, within was about 30#’s of some sort of pumice looking off white stone. There was also a harpoon gun on the front of the boat with another one of those strange chambers and wheel locks in it. A thin barrel with 10 harpoons was there and two coils of 250’ cabled rope. The other boats seemed similarly outfitted (along with a 4 count of metal pails presumably for bailing should need be), and Detheron who had some boat experience in his youth announced that the vessels were sea worthy. Each boat could handle 10 easily and we loaded on carefully looking the situation over.
Some of the rock was taken and tossed in the water where it hissed and smoked and popped. Gwyn told us it was Fizzstone and was normally used in deep mines for quick oxygen where deep miners would drip water on the rock to supply fresh breathable air. The group then deduced the stone was used to add a burst of speed and power to the screws as well as power the harpoon gun.
It was at that moment that Zoltan noticed a 4 count of Duergar were talking to the two ogres – who were pointing to the docks we were still at. Time to go! We cut the ropes and Damian, Arnog, Detheron, and Gwyn began pedaling. We left the docks and the dwarves ran down yelling for us to come back. Arrows and spells met them and we pedaled away while an alarm was shouted out and Duergar in the distance ran towards the docks.
A couple pounds of the Fizzstone were added to the screw chambers and then closed – and the water seeping in through the shaft chamber hit the stone and a burst of steady speed hit the vessel as it lurched forward and reared a bit out of the water- putting distance between us and the dock and a boatload of pursuing dwarves. Zoltan turned the harpoon gun around and loaded up one, readying the chamber with a bit of Fizzstone. Our 4 pedalers were doing great and the gap between us and the dwarves was widening.
A few harpoons were shot back and forth but Zoltan got a good blow on the other ship as Detheron readied a spell, calling on Frey to let loose a Sleet Storm. The driving cold rain tore over the Duergar boat – hit the Fizzstone locker, and blew the center of the boat sky high. Duergar went flying and the other ship sunk beneath the waves. The party cheered.
As they pedaled on Coruth’tae read off a run spell from his pages and hit both Gwyn and Detheron with it – making the two of them able to pedal onward without growing weary! Good job! Another boat had loaded up and was giving chase and it seemed a 3rd was getting ready to shove off. The space between us was widening now to some 500’ feet and harpoon shots were flying wide. One of them did get lucky and blasted through the side of our vessel and hit Damian. The paladin tore the spear out and handed it up toward Zoltan while Gwyn used his bedroll to plug up the hole in the side of the fungus boat. Olthar began bailing as a little water seeped in.
Detheron readied another Sleet Storm while Zoltan took careful aim and blasted the enemy’s Fizzstone locker! Again cold rain drove down and the blast hit the dwarves – but not enough to sink the other boat.
Arnog and Damian were growing very tired, the constant pedaling wearying them down. They began to miss the beat of the pedals and the party’s boat, over half way now to the island, was not going forward as fast as before. And then the other boat had something happen and a spell was cast – as they Dimension Doored forward some 300 feet – VERY close to the party! Damn!
Zoltan took aim and harpooned the enemy Duergar mage on the other boat while Soren and Olthar shot other unarmored Duergar, assuming them to be mages as well. Missile fire and spell work took the other ship apart and it was in no time before it sunk beneath the waves, ablaze and floundering with the terrified Duergar yelling for help.
At this point the group WANTED to go after the other fungus boat. Using an illusion of the ship having a wall behind it (ridiculous of course, but it WAS supposed to be) they actually turned around and closed the distance to the other ship. Zoltan had turned the harpoon gun back to normal and the group stayed behind the illusion which made it seem like they were much further away. As the distance grew smaller and smaller it wasn’t until it was under 60’ and then the party let loose. Lightning bolts tore through the ship’s bottom, harpoons ripped the side off, crossbows and arrows peppered yelling dwarves – but it was Detheron’s Flaming Sphere that ate the center of the ship and set the dwarves ablaze. It broke apart and sunk and Soren shot a couple of still swimming dwarves – leaving one alive to “continue the legend”.
Turning back around we went on our way unbothered toward the Duergar encampment, the distance closing. At roughly 3-400’ from the docks we noticed a flying Duergar wizard coming closer, at the same time rounding the far end of the island’s hook was another fungus boat, loaded with 10 furiously pedaling and angry looking dark dwarves.
We used what Fizzstone we had and powered the boat forward at the same time that Zoltan took aim with the harpoon gun, landing and incredible shot – ON the flying dwarf! The flying dwarf turned away and was struggling to get back to land while the rest of the group poured it on. Detheron changed his direction and angled not for the docks anymore, but the 15’ wide sewer opening we could see like a culvert under the city.
Harpoon was shot at the boat, ripping into the side of it and opening a fresh rent. Olthar and Soren took to bailing while Zoltan turned the harpoon gun around and readied another bolt. We were getting close and Coruth’tae let fly a lightning bolt under the other dwarven boat, lifting the vessel up but not sinking it. Two of the dwarves fired flaming arrows at our boat and Zoltan harpooned theirs. Their harpoon just missed ours and we pedaled hard when one of the other dwarves cast Charm Person on Arnog – and had the party’s fighter kick in the side of our boat!
Gwyn struggled to knock Arnog out, the fighter knocking large holes in the side of the fungus boat, water rushing in. Detheron tried to Flaming Sphere the other vessel but the dwarves were able to constantly bail the fire and in the subsequent mess, we just missed the side of the culvert, the stone wall tearing sheets of brass off our boat, the fungus growing sodden and soft. The boat shuddered and we slipped forward into some sort of crack in the culvert and the Drooling Queen broke apart and we were sucked down the whirlpool; cold dark water splashing against our faces as we slipped under.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Meet 76, Adv 8, 9/19/09
I like demons, and unfortunately never get much opportunity to use them in my games. At some point it becomes a one-upmanship and the flavor of the campaign gets a bit skewed. However, from way back 2 years ago, I had sketched out the rough plot of the campaign and KNEW that demons would make some appearance in the game. (ie: the author of the 2 grimoires: Necordius and Thakulis).
I was going to make sure that the limits would be put in place and not get a horde of Demons coming up and in to take over the world in a growing swell of the damned. This campaign was Slaver/Mage oriented - and the appearance of the damned would only add to the story, not become it.
So the group met one, and got a slimy feel from him (er..the slimy man!) and then there was some Manes (I think of them as demonic kobolds) who never fight in groups of 6 or 10, but in hordes of 60, 100, or 150, and finally this meeting their first encounter with a Vrock. The weakest of the "Type" demons, I played him true to his skills and abilities and he was VERY cunning - but not "intelligent" - and he gave the party a large and painful time. There was no real TPK threat - but he was dynamic (teleport every round, attempt to gate in another Vrock every round, globe of darkness every round, see invisible (didn't come up), telekinesis 200# every round, AND 5 attacks every round!) and really tested the party's ability.
I am sorry to see the group Byforteville soon but know they want to move on to other places. And other places are waiting for them in the dark shadows under the stone of the earth.
Write up follows:
Both Arnog and Damian came to the front, weapons at the ready, and they opened the door. It was a sizeable chamber, cold and chilly, done up in themes of yellow and grey. A heavy chair of some sort of lumpy stone was near the shadow clad bulk of a stone slab with a partially eviscerated goblin bound on top of it. A moment passed and then a 9’ tall vulture like humanoid stood from behind the slab and squawked at the party. At that the shadows before us took on form and we were assaulted.
The fighters did battle with the shades while Damian tried to charge the vulture demon. Gwyn shot at it but his blow was ineffective. The paladin’s blade fell with the fury of Baldur and smote the foe, tearing through his flesh and drawing black ichorous blood. There was some jockeying in the hall as the group tried to race past the shadows, most of their weapons failing to strike the beasts. Then from the OPPOSITE side of the room, bow fire sung out and the vulture was struck from there!
Zoltan used Gwyn’s crossbow while the dwarf had his own bowstring snap. Arnog tore through the closest shadow, his blade tearing it to shreds. Meanwhile Damian was yanked into the room from the demon’s telekinetic pull and a globe of darkness fell on him. Then the demon portaled into the heart of the group and tore into Coruth’tae, his ensorcelled protection wavering but still holding.
The mystery bowman was trying to jump in to help but his cover (a pair of tower shields) were yanked telekinetically in front of him and sent careening through the air to slam into Damian. Zoltan switched to his silver sickle, Detheron pulled out his enchanted pillow and began beating shadows – actually killing one (the pillow IS ostensibly +5)! The air around the demon wavered as it tried to gate in another one, to no avail.
Damian emerged from the ball of darkness and coated his blade with the vial of Sif’s Tears ready to do battle but a telekinetic pull had his blade torn from his grasp and thrown across the room! The mystery bowman, running towards the group, was yelling for help as a shadow tried to tear into him. Arnog intervened; getting hit himself but badly wounding the shade. The bowman picked up the blade.
The party struck at the demon as well as they could but their blows were turned aside by its thick hide and otherworldly flesh. It pointed at the chair and the heavy furniture slammed into Olthar, pinning the young thief under its considerable weight. The demon portalled away this time into the room and hit the group near Detheron again. Gwyn switched to Elfsplitter while Detheron was able to hit another shadow, shredding it apart.
A globe of darkness fell on Damian again as the demon portalled back into the hall, slamming the chair BACK on Olthar who just managed to shove it off of himself. And the air behind it shimmered and another Vrock appeared in a blast of brimstone and fire. Fuck.
The group redoubled their efforts and took to setting themselves up tactically against walls and in pairs, eventually taking down the 1st one and wounding the 2nd. Arnog tried to grapple with the Vrock but it portalled WITH the fighter and tore into his armor and flesh – but the group was ready and Zoltan, Coruth’tae, Damian, and Gwyn fell on the vulture demon before it could portal one last time and slayed it at long last.
We tended to our wounded and came into the chamber, shutting the trapped door behind us. The mystery bowman was named Soren and was a slave that Olthar had freed about 2 months ago and had been running with him around the 3 baronies until a portal had pulled everyone (it seemed) down here. He fell into a city with Duergar who took him in and helped outfit him. They were working against Kashtir and could use an elf of his bow skills. He kept his ears and eyes open for any sign of Olthar, eventually hearing of it. Purchasing a scrap of a map from one of King Yikzarch’s supporters, he came to this place hoping to find his friend and savior but was turned aside by the deep pool under Bruhndi and was going out to find another way through when the shadows attacked him and drained him to unconsciousness. He awoke to the sounds of battle and joined the party forthwith.
Olthar spoke of Soren and the two of them corroborated each other’s stories. We looked over the chamber and looked at his map, also relying on Zoltan’s remembrance of the Sifian angel’s warning of what was ahead. Supposedly an altar to Orcus was in the next room and we were going to go onward when Zoltan wanted to look around. He discovered a hollow under the slab and the party shoved the stone aside. Inside was a gold plated goblin skull fashioned like a drinking horn, a golden 12” statue of a coy succubus, a book clad in elven skin and a small sack that when opened had almost 300 platinum bars. Platinum. Holy smokes! Some of the party members took a vial or two of the Vrock’s blood (just in case) and we readied ourselves to move on.
The book was evil (according to Damian) and he took hold of it (even though Coruth’tae REALLY wanted to look at it) and Zoltan snagged the bag of money and the mug. We moved on and saw the next room as described by Soren. There was a VERY evil looking altar complete with bowl of rotting maggot covered pits of crud, candles, braziers, oil, goblet of blood, and above it a larger than life-sized depiction of Orcus with huge curling ram’s horns that stuck over the altar. It looked down and had an opened mouth.
Yes, it was evil. No one was allowed to screw with it or touch it (even though Damian pulled out the sledge and was ready to start whacking). There was something about burning tongue, horns and Sifian sword. Hmm. We did note that according to Damian the altar was evil, but the statue head above it was not part of the altar. The mouth was looked at – was hollow and emptyish. The party was expecting it to fire off flames and no one wanted to step in front on it.
Eventually Zoltan decided to climb the wall NEXT to it and climb ONTOP of the statue head, both of his feet on the bald head, his hands braced on the ceiling. He stepped on one horn, it went down 9 inches and then back up. Nothing. He did the other, same thing. Suggestions came out rapid fire. He tried both and nothing happened- but he DID feel something click in the wall against his back! Ah ha! There was something back there...but how?
Then the group went back (at Soren’s suggestion) to pouring something in the statue’s mouth. A flask of oil was used (Gwyn wanted to take the oil from the altar but decided against it) and then set alight. After it was burning Zoltan then hit both horns – click – and the entire 10’ section of wall slid out to the right, pivoting to reveal a 10’ square room. There was a pair of sickly green glowing circles and pentagrams, a bronze broadsword in the center. Both Detheron and Coruth’tae told us they were warding circles – and from the runes were protection from LAW and GOOD.
The group thought about this until Gwyn took out his grapple, sprinkled it with demon’s blood, and dropped it through the circle and over the sword. Then Damian took the rope and pulled the sword free. He took it and Gwyn took his grapple back. As the oil guttered out in the statue’s mouth the wall slid closed and Zoltan jumped down.
We were faced with two ways out, Soren came from the left. The warning said the right was wrong and had walking dead and shouldn’t go there. Ok – we didn’t! Going left we walked some 30’ or so to the door out on the left hand side (Soren verified it), but there was a simple chain and lock on it (which was NOT there before!). Using the key Soren had Zoltan opened the door and then he FELT/HEARD something scrabbling at the wall in the back of the hall. Damn it – the Manes were coming.
We ran into the room, 20’ square, while Damian slammed the door closed and spiked it. There was building equipment down here and in the back, 11’ overhead was a hole that led out to the surface, a metal mining ladder attached to the wall inside. The group reacted fast, half of them using sawhorses and lumber to make a platform and then one on top of it. Zoltan scrambled up and using Gwyn’s grapple and rope, hooked it on the bottom rung and then climbed up and out of the room up the chimney.
Something slammed into the door from outside and we heard clamoring for our souls. Soren was next and the ranger made it his way out. Detheron cast reduce animal on his tiger as Olthar went next. The door was forced open slightly and Coruth’tae shot a lightning bolt down the hall, vaporizing the hording manes. Damian and Gwyn spiked the door again as Detheron was hoisted up and with tiger on shoulders was next out of the room. Arnog helped Gwyn up there and the dwarf was next as the Manes were once more in the hall. There was rock dust falling from the walls and the grey elf went next, scrabbling for safety.
Damian told Arnog to go and the fighter clapped hands on the paladin’s shoulder and climbed up next. The door was shoved in and demonic hands and arms were reaching through. Damian hacked at the limbs with Bruhndi’s sword, the strange blade compelling him briefly to stay and kill more demons. It was his friends calling him and his own will that had him resheathing the sword and making his way out, pulling up the rope and grapple and kicking the stacked sawhorses over.
We made it to the streets and shut the storm drain, sliding both of the pin locks into the grate and thanking our stars for getting out alive. At this time we brought Zoltan up to speed on where we were and what was going on, the highlights of Byfortvile and how we came to be here. We reidentified our goals which were to get with Grix/Yikzarch and arrange to get the way to Dragonhole, make it to the surface, Take out Vanir, take out the rejelling Lycos Suns, Get to Principia and find the unicorn’s head (Detheron’s geas), take down Djohrgahd.
We went to the Raging Horn and rested, awakening later to feeling better and stronger and our equipment cleaned thanks to Coruth’tae’s skills. From here we went to see the Splitskulls and Jarul first since we were very close to them. Our visit went well and Jarul told us that our names have come to Kashtir – and the Duergar Thane might be reacting to them soon. The time to leave the goblin city was coming up. A ship was going to be at the closer western dock that would be “available for the next 12 hours” – this was our chance to get away. We had to take the ship across the Underground Sea westward to the northern tip of the Outsider’s isle where a “slum” was situated – a home to Duergar NOT loyal to Kashtir. From there they would smuggle us across the water again to a gnomish settlement where we would meet someone who would guide us out.
We need the name from Grix/Yikzarch to make this happen and it was next on our list. Before going Jarul was offering to sell us some of the contraband stuff he had – at 2 to 5 times normal price. Zoltan took advantage of it, unfortunately finding some of his ORIGINAL gear up for sale! He had to buy his own stuff again which was a bit disconcerting, but the entire group grabbed food, oil, equipment and we paid for it (most from the diamonds that Zoltan had found on the dead drow he had “stripped” of belongings). And that’s where we ended the meeting, on our way to see Grix and hopefully get out of Byfortvile.
I was going to make sure that the limits would be put in place and not get a horde of Demons coming up and in to take over the world in a growing swell of the damned. This campaign was Slaver/Mage oriented - and the appearance of the damned would only add to the story, not become it.
So the group met one, and got a slimy feel from him (er..the slimy man!) and then there was some Manes (I think of them as demonic kobolds) who never fight in groups of 6 or 10, but in hordes of 60, 100, or 150, and finally this meeting their first encounter with a Vrock. The weakest of the "Type" demons, I played him true to his skills and abilities and he was VERY cunning - but not "intelligent" - and he gave the party a large and painful time. There was no real TPK threat - but he was dynamic (teleport every round, attempt to gate in another Vrock every round, globe of darkness every round, see invisible (didn't come up), telekinesis 200# every round, AND 5 attacks every round!) and really tested the party's ability.
I am sorry to see the group Byforteville soon but know they want to move on to other places. And other places are waiting for them in the dark shadows under the stone of the earth.
Write up follows:
Both Arnog and Damian came to the front, weapons at the ready, and they opened the door. It was a sizeable chamber, cold and chilly, done up in themes of yellow and grey. A heavy chair of some sort of lumpy stone was near the shadow clad bulk of a stone slab with a partially eviscerated goblin bound on top of it. A moment passed and then a 9’ tall vulture like humanoid stood from behind the slab and squawked at the party. At that the shadows before us took on form and we were assaulted.
The fighters did battle with the shades while Damian tried to charge the vulture demon. Gwyn shot at it but his blow was ineffective. The paladin’s blade fell with the fury of Baldur and smote the foe, tearing through his flesh and drawing black ichorous blood. There was some jockeying in the hall as the group tried to race past the shadows, most of their weapons failing to strike the beasts. Then from the OPPOSITE side of the room, bow fire sung out and the vulture was struck from there!
Zoltan used Gwyn’s crossbow while the dwarf had his own bowstring snap. Arnog tore through the closest shadow, his blade tearing it to shreds. Meanwhile Damian was yanked into the room from the demon’s telekinetic pull and a globe of darkness fell on him. Then the demon portaled into the heart of the group and tore into Coruth’tae, his ensorcelled protection wavering but still holding.
The mystery bowman was trying to jump in to help but his cover (a pair of tower shields) were yanked telekinetically in front of him and sent careening through the air to slam into Damian. Zoltan switched to his silver sickle, Detheron pulled out his enchanted pillow and began beating shadows – actually killing one (the pillow IS ostensibly +5)! The air around the demon wavered as it tried to gate in another one, to no avail.
Damian emerged from the ball of darkness and coated his blade with the vial of Sif’s Tears ready to do battle but a telekinetic pull had his blade torn from his grasp and thrown across the room! The mystery bowman, running towards the group, was yelling for help as a shadow tried to tear into him. Arnog intervened; getting hit himself but badly wounding the shade. The bowman picked up the blade.
The party struck at the demon as well as they could but their blows were turned aside by its thick hide and otherworldly flesh. It pointed at the chair and the heavy furniture slammed into Olthar, pinning the young thief under its considerable weight. The demon portalled away this time into the room and hit the group near Detheron again. Gwyn switched to Elfsplitter while Detheron was able to hit another shadow, shredding it apart.
A globe of darkness fell on Damian again as the demon portalled back into the hall, slamming the chair BACK on Olthar who just managed to shove it off of himself. And the air behind it shimmered and another Vrock appeared in a blast of brimstone and fire. Fuck.
The group redoubled their efforts and took to setting themselves up tactically against walls and in pairs, eventually taking down the 1st one and wounding the 2nd. Arnog tried to grapple with the Vrock but it portalled WITH the fighter and tore into his armor and flesh – but the group was ready and Zoltan, Coruth’tae, Damian, and Gwyn fell on the vulture demon before it could portal one last time and slayed it at long last.
We tended to our wounded and came into the chamber, shutting the trapped door behind us. The mystery bowman was named Soren and was a slave that Olthar had freed about 2 months ago and had been running with him around the 3 baronies until a portal had pulled everyone (it seemed) down here. He fell into a city with Duergar who took him in and helped outfit him. They were working against Kashtir and could use an elf of his bow skills. He kept his ears and eyes open for any sign of Olthar, eventually hearing of it. Purchasing a scrap of a map from one of King Yikzarch’s supporters, he came to this place hoping to find his friend and savior but was turned aside by the deep pool under Bruhndi and was going out to find another way through when the shadows attacked him and drained him to unconsciousness. He awoke to the sounds of battle and joined the party forthwith.
Olthar spoke of Soren and the two of them corroborated each other’s stories. We looked over the chamber and looked at his map, also relying on Zoltan’s remembrance of the Sifian angel’s warning of what was ahead. Supposedly an altar to Orcus was in the next room and we were going to go onward when Zoltan wanted to look around. He discovered a hollow under the slab and the party shoved the stone aside. Inside was a gold plated goblin skull fashioned like a drinking horn, a golden 12” statue of a coy succubus, a book clad in elven skin and a small sack that when opened had almost 300 platinum bars. Platinum. Holy smokes! Some of the party members took a vial or two of the Vrock’s blood (just in case) and we readied ourselves to move on.
The book was evil (according to Damian) and he took hold of it (even though Coruth’tae REALLY wanted to look at it) and Zoltan snagged the bag of money and the mug. We moved on and saw the next room as described by Soren. There was a VERY evil looking altar complete with bowl of rotting maggot covered pits of crud, candles, braziers, oil, goblet of blood, and above it a larger than life-sized depiction of Orcus with huge curling ram’s horns that stuck over the altar. It looked down and had an opened mouth.
Yes, it was evil. No one was allowed to screw with it or touch it (even though Damian pulled out the sledge and was ready to start whacking). There was something about burning tongue, horns and Sifian sword. Hmm. We did note that according to Damian the altar was evil, but the statue head above it was not part of the altar. The mouth was looked at – was hollow and emptyish. The party was expecting it to fire off flames and no one wanted to step in front on it.
Eventually Zoltan decided to climb the wall NEXT to it and climb ONTOP of the statue head, both of his feet on the bald head, his hands braced on the ceiling. He stepped on one horn, it went down 9 inches and then back up. Nothing. He did the other, same thing. Suggestions came out rapid fire. He tried both and nothing happened- but he DID feel something click in the wall against his back! Ah ha! There was something back there...but how?
Then the group went back (at Soren’s suggestion) to pouring something in the statue’s mouth. A flask of oil was used (Gwyn wanted to take the oil from the altar but decided against it) and then set alight. After it was burning Zoltan then hit both horns – click – and the entire 10’ section of wall slid out to the right, pivoting to reveal a 10’ square room. There was a pair of sickly green glowing circles and pentagrams, a bronze broadsword in the center. Both Detheron and Coruth’tae told us they were warding circles – and from the runes were protection from LAW and GOOD.
The group thought about this until Gwyn took out his grapple, sprinkled it with demon’s blood, and dropped it through the circle and over the sword. Then Damian took the rope and pulled the sword free. He took it and Gwyn took his grapple back. As the oil guttered out in the statue’s mouth the wall slid closed and Zoltan jumped down.
We were faced with two ways out, Soren came from the left. The warning said the right was wrong and had walking dead and shouldn’t go there. Ok – we didn’t! Going left we walked some 30’ or so to the door out on the left hand side (Soren verified it), but there was a simple chain and lock on it (which was NOT there before!). Using the key Soren had Zoltan opened the door and then he FELT/HEARD something scrabbling at the wall in the back of the hall. Damn it – the Manes were coming.
We ran into the room, 20’ square, while Damian slammed the door closed and spiked it. There was building equipment down here and in the back, 11’ overhead was a hole that led out to the surface, a metal mining ladder attached to the wall inside. The group reacted fast, half of them using sawhorses and lumber to make a platform and then one on top of it. Zoltan scrambled up and using Gwyn’s grapple and rope, hooked it on the bottom rung and then climbed up and out of the room up the chimney.
Something slammed into the door from outside and we heard clamoring for our souls. Soren was next and the ranger made it his way out. Detheron cast reduce animal on his tiger as Olthar went next. The door was forced open slightly and Coruth’tae shot a lightning bolt down the hall, vaporizing the hording manes. Damian and Gwyn spiked the door again as Detheron was hoisted up and with tiger on shoulders was next out of the room. Arnog helped Gwyn up there and the dwarf was next as the Manes were once more in the hall. There was rock dust falling from the walls and the grey elf went next, scrabbling for safety.
Damian told Arnog to go and the fighter clapped hands on the paladin’s shoulder and climbed up next. The door was shoved in and demonic hands and arms were reaching through. Damian hacked at the limbs with Bruhndi’s sword, the strange blade compelling him briefly to stay and kill more demons. It was his friends calling him and his own will that had him resheathing the sword and making his way out, pulling up the rope and grapple and kicking the stacked sawhorses over.
We made it to the streets and shut the storm drain, sliding both of the pin locks into the grate and thanking our stars for getting out alive. At this time we brought Zoltan up to speed on where we were and what was going on, the highlights of Byfortvile and how we came to be here. We reidentified our goals which were to get with Grix/Yikzarch and arrange to get the way to Dragonhole, make it to the surface, Take out Vanir, take out the rejelling Lycos Suns, Get to Principia and find the unicorn’s head (Detheron’s geas), take down Djohrgahd.
We went to the Raging Horn and rested, awakening later to feeling better and stronger and our equipment cleaned thanks to Coruth’tae’s skills. From here we went to see the Splitskulls and Jarul first since we were very close to them. Our visit went well and Jarul told us that our names have come to Kashtir – and the Duergar Thane might be reacting to them soon. The time to leave the goblin city was coming up. A ship was going to be at the closer western dock that would be “available for the next 12 hours” – this was our chance to get away. We had to take the ship across the Underground Sea westward to the northern tip of the Outsider’s isle where a “slum” was situated – a home to Duergar NOT loyal to Kashtir. From there they would smuggle us across the water again to a gnomish settlement where we would meet someone who would guide us out.
We need the name from Grix/Yikzarch to make this happen and it was next on our list. Before going Jarul was offering to sell us some of the contraband stuff he had – at 2 to 5 times normal price. Zoltan took advantage of it, unfortunately finding some of his ORIGINAL gear up for sale! He had to buy his own stuff again which was a bit disconcerting, but the entire group grabbed food, oil, equipment and we paid for it (most from the diamonds that Zoltan had found on the dead drow he had “stripped” of belongings). And that’s where we ended the meeting, on our way to see Grix and hopefully get out of Byfortvile.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Meet 75, Adv 8, 9/12/09
I had the benefit and good will to bring back one of the party's long dormant and thought for dead members, Zoltan. Amityville Mike took some time off for personal and professional reasons and I know that the party and table was much lessened and reduced not having him there. However, through a number of well thought out steps and some doggedness on the group, they were willing and able to take a side quest and bring back Zoltan Janaki-Jast, Prala of the Frost (and a host of other nomenclatures).
This also meant I had to present my take on Demonics for the first time. I am of the decidedly old school mentality where the DEMONS and DEVILS of the 1st edition monster manual are staples to be used (not ba'atezu and whatever else they called the abyssal bad guys). Demons are STUPIDLY smart and even the most base and ravenous of them are cunning, heading off issues and problems with a decidedly sideways slant at problem solving.
It's a short side quest, 13 encounter little ditty to give the group a good looksie at some old-school dungeon stuff (a trapped door that will not stop firing off, deadly encounter corridors, treasure hidden that needs the group to THINK, not just make search checks, etc...) for 1 or 2 meetings before they go traipsing into the real old school crawl I have for them.
Write up follows:
We awoke the next day to both Arnog and Damian with much cleaner and polished equipment thanks to Coruth’tae’s new cantrips (thanks!!) and spent some time readying our spells and equipment. Detheron and Damian went to common room to get some morning stew from Ann where they asked the ogre if anyone had come looking for them. He replied, “The undertaker”. “Solon?” Yeah. “Where is he?” You were sleeping. “Is he waiting somewhere (looking around for him)?” NO. You were SLEEPING. “So did he leave?” Yeah, I threw him out. “Um…Why?” BECAUSE YOU WERE SLEEPING.
Chuckle.
The group gathered up their equipment and belongings and went off to the Graveyard, fighting whether or not to go right across the center of town or to take the long way around. It was eventually decided to go the short way and we went, looking about everywhere for drow, goblins, anyone wanting to do us harm. Damian was scanning for evil the majority of the way. Coruth’tae noticed that we were being shadowed by a half dozen goblin toughs and Damian noticed the male drow from yesterday was hanging out of a 2nd story window.
Be as it was, we were left alone and made it to the cemetery. A quick look by the paladin showed that there was an aura of evil but it was coming up through the graveyard from under the ground. Strange. Two of the gravediggers let us in and we followed Undertaker Solon in and through the cairns and mausoleums, eventually going to one larger than others. Once through the doors we were affected by a low level but intense confusion spell, making mapping the area practically impossible. We followed the big goblin further and further in and under the ground, 2, 3, maybe 4 levels down until he stopped up in front of a double doors and wished us well with the slimy man.
We knock and were bid to enter. The room was maybe 20’ square with the back corner partitioned off with gauzy curtains of some sort of gray material, obscuring all but the shape of a 7-9’ tall heavy set fat humanoid figure seated there. There were some candles lit and the smell of some pungent incense was strong. There was a narrow set of stairs past his position further down. He spoke to us at length and the party had the feeling that he was more in touch and knowledgeable than he let on.
Calling himself Nex he filled in some of the missing bits of knowledge the party needed. The glass spheres were called soulspheres and were used because certain strong sorceries needed the deaths of numerous living sentient creatures to fuel the magic. Since it was sometimes impossible to arrange that, the deaths could be “captured” and saved – released at the sorceries completion to fuel whatever rite was needed. Children, virgins, elves, persons of inner strength – whatever the rituals needed could be captured.
We showed him Zoltan’s ball and he smiled, admitting he had helped make it. He then kicked Zoltan’s body out from behind the curtain and told us that it was there for us to use. Downstairs there was a “pool of rebirth” that he had set up because there were often times a soul needed to be returned to the body. We could use it. It would cost us a favor – any one of us. Detheron opted to take it against the ok from Damian and Coruth’tae (Gwyn suggested that Detheron take it).
As for the books, Necordius Fenrir Codex and the Thakulus Grimoire, Nex told us where they came from. Some 7-8 centuries during the GreenMountain Wars (dwarven and elven conflict) the dwarves of Wodenvarelse consulted with a summoned powerful creatures (ie: demonic) on how to defeat the elves. This lord, Necordius, wrote down a specific set of rituals that would help the dwarves should they dared to use it. The dwarven mystics then convinced Necordius to summon HIS lord, Thakulis and commanded THAT lord to expand on Necordius’ rituals, penning the 2nd book.
Prior to their banishment back to where they came, Necordius secreted gated in 3 of his subordinates with explicit instructions to watch over the dwarves and the books. One was named Deacon and he eventually followed those dwarves that went to the surface where he blended in and aided in the war against the elves – disappearing from sight some 5 centuries ago.
Another was named Krelia and she stayed local taking on the appearance of a dwarven matron and eventually also going to the surface where she was slain during the Ogrewars some 60 years ago, interred and buried by those dwarves that had followed her.
The last was Nex who stayed with the books, bored for 6 centuries until some human named Dargan came in 50 years ago and took both books. Since his “mission” was now defunct, Nex eventually wandered down here to Byfortevile where he helped the goblins now and again against the Duergar who follow the Outsiders – a degenerate race of half-breeds with the little brains and no concept of their strength.
We thanked (??) Nex for his words, learned how to use the pool below (silver dipper, over the soulsphere resting on the body’s chest and step back) and hoisting Zoltan’s rotting corpse went down the narrow corridor and stairs, counting some 33 steps. The sizeable chamber was lit by a faintly reddish glow from a pool in the back with a painted white marking where a body should lay. There were 2 sets of 4 cell doors on both sides on the way to the back and some sort of noise was coming from one of them. Coruth’tae and Detheron felt something about the pool was dulling their connection to their magic and god respectively. Hmm.
Damian brought Zoltan to the marking and looked for the silver dipper (on a shelf with a worn brass key and a green vial) when he was told that either Coruth’tae or Detheron would take care of it. As we did come closer to the pool we heard a voice from one of the cells on the left asking to be released.
Who are you? Name’s Olthar, been here for so many weeks. How’d you get here? Used to work for Vanir and the Lycos Suns and… YOU WHAT!?!? At that point we had to listen to Olthar spin his tale a bit faster. Was hired a while ago, used to do jobs for them, nothing special – until he was assigned by Vanir to be a part of slavery. This was too much for the wood elf who not only fought about it with the caravan master but also eventually slew him and freed the slaves.
Then Olthar and the escaped slaves spent weeks dodging Vanir and his bounty hunters who were searching them out – culminating at a massive fight in a box canyon where Vanir himself showed and opened a portal where Olthar and the remaining 4 or 5 slaves fell in and were under the lash of cruel demonics for some long time. Now he’s been moved to this small cell and there are voices on the other side of the walls saying that he was weak and they were going to eat his soul.
They party was swayed enough to think about letting him out but ZOLTAN came first. They made Olthar hand his weapons though the cell door and then Coruth’tae performed the simple ritual with the water, the soulsphere, and zoltan’s corpse. The water kept siphoning out of the pool, running over and through the body – seeping into it and soaking it and healing it and STILL the pool emptied. And then there was a “SNAP” that ran through the room and the soulsphere cracked and Zoltan soaking wet gasped for breath and stood up head shaking.
The pool had drained almost 6’ down. A set of silvered bars slammed into being in front of the passage out, preventing exit that way. Something was different, but the party didn’t know what. Only Coruth’tae and Zoltan “FELT” something was wrong and amiss. Damian let Olthar out and the wood elf was returned his belongings. The group looked briefly in the other cells, seeing bodies in 6 of the others (one of which Damian said was actually undead – others were just dead bodies).
Detheron tried to shape stone around the silvered steel bars and the bars just filled in the space made. Coruth’tae snagged the green vial off the shelf, Zoltan took the key from the lock, and the rest of the group made their way at the thief and the grey elf’s STRONG recommendation to get to the pool and make their way out because something was coming and coming soon. A review of the pool showed that it was about 4’ of water at the bottom and that it ran under the north wall through a 6’ diameter round tunnel. Arnog and Damian went in first and helped down Olthar and Gwyn. The druid cast a water breathing on his tiger and the group made their way into the red glowing tunnel.
Meanwhile Zoltan and Coruth’tae looked though the bars of the cells and with a detect magic going they identified two to chance: a rotting drow female in elven chain and a duegar male with a magic amulet on his neck. Zoltan used the key on the female drow’s cell, opening it but the key snapped and Coruth’tae used a knock spell on the dwarf’s cell. A run spell followed on the two friends and they moved as fast as they could to the pool as the feeling of “IT’S COMING” was screaming in their heads.
As for the rest of the party, about 20’ down the narrow wet tunnel they came to a set of portcullis of silvered steel down, the operating wheel on the other side of the bars. They couldn’t reach it and even with weapons in their hands, couldn’t turn it. So with Gwyn bracing his 7’ iron bar under the lowered bars, Arnog and Damian both ducked under the water and garbbed the bottom and LIFTED – the 3 of them hoisting the heavy bars UP to about waist height. Then Detheron went through and spun the wheel to pick up the slack and locked it in place.
As Zoltan and Coruth’tae jumped in the pool they felt something unseen crawl against their skin, screaming to the primal fears deep inside. And then the walls crumbled away as clawed hands tore the stone and a cacophonous cry of demonic glee roared and shouted and sang as they spilled into the pool chamber and ran/staggered/leapt towards the party. Each was perhaps 4’ tall, 70 lbs, baleful yellow eyes and oversized need toothed fish-like mouths – crying that we were weak and they were going to swallow our souls. (Bars of Lordi’s “Hard Rock Hallelujah” rang in the background (normally I use Apotheosis for demonic attacks but screw it – let’s rock those demons out a bit). Obligatory Music Video link follows (from Eurovision ’07 Opening act): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xzbxizbc0bQ&feature=related and the actual video for the song if interested: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TdItwaLrv1U )
Propping his elbows on the pool’s edge Coruth’tae stuck his staff of power over the side and let fly a precious Fireball which filled most of the room but did consume the entirety of the raging demonics, turning them into pillars of smoke, giving us a bit of a reprieve. But new ones were coming through the walls and they were massing up. Most of the group was going through the raised bars and Damian was calling for the last two, not going to leave until they were safe.
The grey elf climbed on Zoltan’s shoulders and tried to fire his own fireball but he was wet from the pool’s water and his magic was retarded and failed to fire. The two friends RAN for the bars and got through ahead of the demonic horde and Damian let the lock go, whacking it with his sledgehammer a few times. The small creatures were hurt from the silver bars but wanted the party, so after a minute they turned to the WALLS on either side of the bars and began gnawing at them! We moved and got out of the water.
It led to another pool and we emerged into a chapel to some demonic entity, sulfurous incense smoking. But it was OVER the pool, stapled to the wall that the party stopped and stared:
A woman with long braided blond hair, alabaster skin, clad in torn and rented remains of chainmail armor that wraps around her buxom form, a pair of 15’ wide white feathered wings spread open is nailed to the wall with a number of spikes through her body as well as an oversized serrated black blade piercing over her left breast and stapling her back to the stone. She is covered in her own blood, the sanguine fluids splattered everywhere, staining most everything you can see. Her eyes gaze downward at the thin rivulets of blood leaking down her torso, legs, and then dripping one drop at a time into the pool; feeding it just as surely as the small fountain of water emerging from a natural crack in the wall below her. Her mouth moves faintly but her words are difficult to hear.
We stared and wanted to take her down. Detheron told Damian to get down as the paladin was trying to climb up to help her and the paladin ignored the druid, Coruth’tae telling Detheron to back off. The paladin poured his healing touch into the angel and she regained a bit of consciousness. Identified herself as Bruhndi, a Sifian angel, a valkyrie from Asgard. She had been here for 40 years after thinking she was able enough to take down Nex (her sin was pride) and was bested by him. She cannot be freed from her torment until Sif herself knows where she is and what happened and a valkyrie can be dispatched to get her. No one has been here in the 40 years except for Nex except for yesterday when a wood elven ranger named Soren was here looking to free someone named Olthar.
Zoltan asked her why the gods’ sent him back and she said it wasn’t the gods, it was her own blood. The god’s didn’t know of him since his soul had been stolen before it could go to Hel. Now that he was back in his body he once again appears to the gods and he will go to his final reward should/when he dies. She tells us that the green vial contains Sif’s Tears, a potent water adorned to a weapon that would allow it to do massive damage to demonic and necromantic creatures.
She was fading in and out of consciousness and we asked her what we could expect. She tranced for a moment and recited:
‘Tween ember mastiffs and quarrelling spines
a Departure portal and fetid felines.
The carrion eater is apt to fade
screeching in and with the icy shade.
A sacrament of sacrilege to the Reaping Lord.
Burning tongues. Devil’s horns. Sifian Sword.
Right is wrong are dead are walking.
Fetish charm eternal stalking.
Door to the light, ascend among
the ever hating Devouring throng.
After that she passed out. Detheron berated Damian for not listening to him and Damian pretty much told him he’d follow him and his advice except for matters like this. Coruth’tae tried to call for a vote of no contest against Detheron but as Zoltan said as he was stripping the drow female for her armor and clothes and weapons that this was NOT a good idea to do now. The bard took point with Olthar and the two of them went down the corridor until it was crossed by another, the smell of coal strong, a single arrow lying on the floor.
Using his stolen mirror he peered around one corner while Olthar looked around the other. There was something down the lft moving and down the right was some dogs and then a blast of flame in the wood elf’s face. Hell hounds. Damn it.
Zoltan ran across the corridor, spinning and tumbling and diving wildly, trying to make himself a difficult target – arrows were flying all around him and his long remembered reflexes had him dodging flame blasts with ease. He came to a stop on the other side and looked back at the group with a smirk. Damian was impressed and nodding to the party he braced himself and RAN across the corridor. Arrows peppered him and one found its way into his armor and he ran into every flame blast!. Hurt and smoking and stunned he was safely across (BADLY HURT) but gave a victory sign to the party and we laughed with and at him.
The group didn’t want to chance it and we came up with some plans on taking care of the enemy. Damian took a couple of potions and got his bearings back and then we took the fight to the enemy. Zoltan and Arnog charged the hellhounds and stabbed and slashed them while Damian took his faith in Baldur against the skeletons and turned the closest 5 back. Gwyn charged with his scimitar flashing and struck the skellies. Olthar hung back and Detheron quenched the hounds –their inner fires killed actually slayed the beasts!
The rest of the fight went fast and the last of the enemy were taken out. We checked out the area, little in either room. From here we went on, the corridor turning to the right and going 30’ to a door clad in iron and painted blue, fanciful designs of roaring lion’s heads in a checkerboard pattern across the surface. A large keyhole was underneath the handle.
Zoltan, referring back to Bruhndi’s vision went to the door and looked carefully at the mouths, noticing that they were each sporting a tube. Damn, most likely poison gas. The trigger was a wire inside the keyhole. It would need to be crimped to stop the trap, a failure meant it would fire off. Detheron stayed close to Zoltan and the rest of the party hung back, the druid offering a “guidance” of Frey to the gypsy’s skills and Zoltan did his thing.
And set the trap off. The poison gas billowed down the hall and both Zoltan and Detheron were coughing and choking in the aftermath, both weaker and in some pain. Gwyn shouted that, “Since it’s already gone off, at least it’s safe now.” And then Zoltan tried to remove the trap again – and again set it off, succumbing to the chlorine gas. In pain and unable to see clearly he made his way out of the gas zone and rested while Olthar was willing to try, the druid going with him. Detheron cast a spell on the wood elf making him temporarily immune to poison.
What?!?!?!
Zoltan, sucking down healing potions and getting healed by Coruth’tae’s wand looked at the druid like he was crazy. So you are saying you could have made me IMMUNE!?!?! Why didn’t YOU!?!?!?!? Detheron said that he had remembered Zoltan as almost legendary and didn’t think he was going to need that. Hahaha.
Gwyn was convinced it wouldn’t fire a third time, but was proven wrong as Olthar screwed up and triggered the trap. It was the 4th attempt that ended the constant poisoning and the trap was removed at long last. Then the lock picking tools were given to Zoltan who was a bit better and he was asked to pick the lock, “since you are much better than us”. The gypsy went there and took his time, opening the lock with a definitive click. And we ended it here.
This also meant I had to present my take on Demonics for the first time. I am of the decidedly old school mentality where the DEMONS and DEVILS of the 1st edition monster manual are staples to be used (not ba'atezu and whatever else they called the abyssal bad guys). Demons are STUPIDLY smart and even the most base and ravenous of them are cunning, heading off issues and problems with a decidedly sideways slant at problem solving.
It's a short side quest, 13 encounter little ditty to give the group a good looksie at some old-school dungeon stuff (a trapped door that will not stop firing off, deadly encounter corridors, treasure hidden that needs the group to THINK, not just make search checks, etc...) for 1 or 2 meetings before they go traipsing into the real old school crawl I have for them.
Write up follows:
We awoke the next day to both Arnog and Damian with much cleaner and polished equipment thanks to Coruth’tae’s new cantrips (thanks!!) and spent some time readying our spells and equipment. Detheron and Damian went to common room to get some morning stew from Ann where they asked the ogre if anyone had come looking for them. He replied, “The undertaker”. “Solon?” Yeah. “Where is he?” You were sleeping. “Is he waiting somewhere (looking around for him)?” NO. You were SLEEPING. “So did he leave?” Yeah, I threw him out. “Um…Why?” BECAUSE YOU WERE SLEEPING.
Chuckle.
The group gathered up their equipment and belongings and went off to the Graveyard, fighting whether or not to go right across the center of town or to take the long way around. It was eventually decided to go the short way and we went, looking about everywhere for drow, goblins, anyone wanting to do us harm. Damian was scanning for evil the majority of the way. Coruth’tae noticed that we were being shadowed by a half dozen goblin toughs and Damian noticed the male drow from yesterday was hanging out of a 2nd story window.
Be as it was, we were left alone and made it to the cemetery. A quick look by the paladin showed that there was an aura of evil but it was coming up through the graveyard from under the ground. Strange. Two of the gravediggers let us in and we followed Undertaker Solon in and through the cairns and mausoleums, eventually going to one larger than others. Once through the doors we were affected by a low level but intense confusion spell, making mapping the area practically impossible. We followed the big goblin further and further in and under the ground, 2, 3, maybe 4 levels down until he stopped up in front of a double doors and wished us well with the slimy man.
We knock and were bid to enter. The room was maybe 20’ square with the back corner partitioned off with gauzy curtains of some sort of gray material, obscuring all but the shape of a 7-9’ tall heavy set fat humanoid figure seated there. There were some candles lit and the smell of some pungent incense was strong. There was a narrow set of stairs past his position further down. He spoke to us at length and the party had the feeling that he was more in touch and knowledgeable than he let on.
Calling himself Nex he filled in some of the missing bits of knowledge the party needed. The glass spheres were called soulspheres and were used because certain strong sorceries needed the deaths of numerous living sentient creatures to fuel the magic. Since it was sometimes impossible to arrange that, the deaths could be “captured” and saved – released at the sorceries completion to fuel whatever rite was needed. Children, virgins, elves, persons of inner strength – whatever the rituals needed could be captured.
We showed him Zoltan’s ball and he smiled, admitting he had helped make it. He then kicked Zoltan’s body out from behind the curtain and told us that it was there for us to use. Downstairs there was a “pool of rebirth” that he had set up because there were often times a soul needed to be returned to the body. We could use it. It would cost us a favor – any one of us. Detheron opted to take it against the ok from Damian and Coruth’tae (Gwyn suggested that Detheron take it).
As for the books, Necordius Fenrir Codex and the Thakulus Grimoire, Nex told us where they came from. Some 7-8 centuries during the GreenMountain Wars (dwarven and elven conflict) the dwarves of Wodenvarelse consulted with a summoned powerful creatures (ie: demonic) on how to defeat the elves. This lord, Necordius, wrote down a specific set of rituals that would help the dwarves should they dared to use it. The dwarven mystics then convinced Necordius to summon HIS lord, Thakulis and commanded THAT lord to expand on Necordius’ rituals, penning the 2nd book.
Prior to their banishment back to where they came, Necordius secreted gated in 3 of his subordinates with explicit instructions to watch over the dwarves and the books. One was named Deacon and he eventually followed those dwarves that went to the surface where he blended in and aided in the war against the elves – disappearing from sight some 5 centuries ago.
Another was named Krelia and she stayed local taking on the appearance of a dwarven matron and eventually also going to the surface where she was slain during the Ogrewars some 60 years ago, interred and buried by those dwarves that had followed her.
The last was Nex who stayed with the books, bored for 6 centuries until some human named Dargan came in 50 years ago and took both books. Since his “mission” was now defunct, Nex eventually wandered down here to Byfortevile where he helped the goblins now and again against the Duergar who follow the Outsiders – a degenerate race of half-breeds with the little brains and no concept of their strength.
We thanked (??) Nex for his words, learned how to use the pool below (silver dipper, over the soulsphere resting on the body’s chest and step back) and hoisting Zoltan’s rotting corpse went down the narrow corridor and stairs, counting some 33 steps. The sizeable chamber was lit by a faintly reddish glow from a pool in the back with a painted white marking where a body should lay. There were 2 sets of 4 cell doors on both sides on the way to the back and some sort of noise was coming from one of them. Coruth’tae and Detheron felt something about the pool was dulling their connection to their magic and god respectively. Hmm.
Damian brought Zoltan to the marking and looked for the silver dipper (on a shelf with a worn brass key and a green vial) when he was told that either Coruth’tae or Detheron would take care of it. As we did come closer to the pool we heard a voice from one of the cells on the left asking to be released.
Who are you? Name’s Olthar, been here for so many weeks. How’d you get here? Used to work for Vanir and the Lycos Suns and… YOU WHAT!?!? At that point we had to listen to Olthar spin his tale a bit faster. Was hired a while ago, used to do jobs for them, nothing special – until he was assigned by Vanir to be a part of slavery. This was too much for the wood elf who not only fought about it with the caravan master but also eventually slew him and freed the slaves.
Then Olthar and the escaped slaves spent weeks dodging Vanir and his bounty hunters who were searching them out – culminating at a massive fight in a box canyon where Vanir himself showed and opened a portal where Olthar and the remaining 4 or 5 slaves fell in and were under the lash of cruel demonics for some long time. Now he’s been moved to this small cell and there are voices on the other side of the walls saying that he was weak and they were going to eat his soul.
They party was swayed enough to think about letting him out but ZOLTAN came first. They made Olthar hand his weapons though the cell door and then Coruth’tae performed the simple ritual with the water, the soulsphere, and zoltan’s corpse. The water kept siphoning out of the pool, running over and through the body – seeping into it and soaking it and healing it and STILL the pool emptied. And then there was a “SNAP” that ran through the room and the soulsphere cracked and Zoltan soaking wet gasped for breath and stood up head shaking.
The pool had drained almost 6’ down. A set of silvered bars slammed into being in front of the passage out, preventing exit that way. Something was different, but the party didn’t know what. Only Coruth’tae and Zoltan “FELT” something was wrong and amiss. Damian let Olthar out and the wood elf was returned his belongings. The group looked briefly in the other cells, seeing bodies in 6 of the others (one of which Damian said was actually undead – others were just dead bodies).
Detheron tried to shape stone around the silvered steel bars and the bars just filled in the space made. Coruth’tae snagged the green vial off the shelf, Zoltan took the key from the lock, and the rest of the group made their way at the thief and the grey elf’s STRONG recommendation to get to the pool and make their way out because something was coming and coming soon. A review of the pool showed that it was about 4’ of water at the bottom and that it ran under the north wall through a 6’ diameter round tunnel. Arnog and Damian went in first and helped down Olthar and Gwyn. The druid cast a water breathing on his tiger and the group made their way into the red glowing tunnel.
Meanwhile Zoltan and Coruth’tae looked though the bars of the cells and with a detect magic going they identified two to chance: a rotting drow female in elven chain and a duegar male with a magic amulet on his neck. Zoltan used the key on the female drow’s cell, opening it but the key snapped and Coruth’tae used a knock spell on the dwarf’s cell. A run spell followed on the two friends and they moved as fast as they could to the pool as the feeling of “IT’S COMING” was screaming in their heads.
As for the rest of the party, about 20’ down the narrow wet tunnel they came to a set of portcullis of silvered steel down, the operating wheel on the other side of the bars. They couldn’t reach it and even with weapons in their hands, couldn’t turn it. So with Gwyn bracing his 7’ iron bar under the lowered bars, Arnog and Damian both ducked under the water and garbbed the bottom and LIFTED – the 3 of them hoisting the heavy bars UP to about waist height. Then Detheron went through and spun the wheel to pick up the slack and locked it in place.
As Zoltan and Coruth’tae jumped in the pool they felt something unseen crawl against their skin, screaming to the primal fears deep inside. And then the walls crumbled away as clawed hands tore the stone and a cacophonous cry of demonic glee roared and shouted and sang as they spilled into the pool chamber and ran/staggered/leapt towards the party. Each was perhaps 4’ tall, 70 lbs, baleful yellow eyes and oversized need toothed fish-like mouths – crying that we were weak and they were going to swallow our souls. (Bars of Lordi’s “Hard Rock Hallelujah” rang in the background (normally I use Apotheosis for demonic attacks but screw it – let’s rock those demons out a bit). Obligatory Music Video link follows (from Eurovision ’07 Opening act): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xzbxizbc0bQ&feature=related and the actual video for the song if interested: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TdItwaLrv1U )
Propping his elbows on the pool’s edge Coruth’tae stuck his staff of power over the side and let fly a precious Fireball which filled most of the room but did consume the entirety of the raging demonics, turning them into pillars of smoke, giving us a bit of a reprieve. But new ones were coming through the walls and they were massing up. Most of the group was going through the raised bars and Damian was calling for the last two, not going to leave until they were safe.
The grey elf climbed on Zoltan’s shoulders and tried to fire his own fireball but he was wet from the pool’s water and his magic was retarded and failed to fire. The two friends RAN for the bars and got through ahead of the demonic horde and Damian let the lock go, whacking it with his sledgehammer a few times. The small creatures were hurt from the silver bars but wanted the party, so after a minute they turned to the WALLS on either side of the bars and began gnawing at them! We moved and got out of the water.
It led to another pool and we emerged into a chapel to some demonic entity, sulfurous incense smoking. But it was OVER the pool, stapled to the wall that the party stopped and stared:
A woman with long braided blond hair, alabaster skin, clad in torn and rented remains of chainmail armor that wraps around her buxom form, a pair of 15’ wide white feathered wings spread open is nailed to the wall with a number of spikes through her body as well as an oversized serrated black blade piercing over her left breast and stapling her back to the stone. She is covered in her own blood, the sanguine fluids splattered everywhere, staining most everything you can see. Her eyes gaze downward at the thin rivulets of blood leaking down her torso, legs, and then dripping one drop at a time into the pool; feeding it just as surely as the small fountain of water emerging from a natural crack in the wall below her. Her mouth moves faintly but her words are difficult to hear.
We stared and wanted to take her down. Detheron told Damian to get down as the paladin was trying to climb up to help her and the paladin ignored the druid, Coruth’tae telling Detheron to back off. The paladin poured his healing touch into the angel and she regained a bit of consciousness. Identified herself as Bruhndi, a Sifian angel, a valkyrie from Asgard. She had been here for 40 years after thinking she was able enough to take down Nex (her sin was pride) and was bested by him. She cannot be freed from her torment until Sif herself knows where she is and what happened and a valkyrie can be dispatched to get her. No one has been here in the 40 years except for Nex except for yesterday when a wood elven ranger named Soren was here looking to free someone named Olthar.
Zoltan asked her why the gods’ sent him back and she said it wasn’t the gods, it was her own blood. The god’s didn’t know of him since his soul had been stolen before it could go to Hel. Now that he was back in his body he once again appears to the gods and he will go to his final reward should/when he dies. She tells us that the green vial contains Sif’s Tears, a potent water adorned to a weapon that would allow it to do massive damage to demonic and necromantic creatures.
She was fading in and out of consciousness and we asked her what we could expect. She tranced for a moment and recited:
‘Tween ember mastiffs and quarrelling spines
a Departure portal and fetid felines.
The carrion eater is apt to fade
screeching in and with the icy shade.
A sacrament of sacrilege to the Reaping Lord.
Burning tongues. Devil’s horns. Sifian Sword.
Right is wrong are dead are walking.
Fetish charm eternal stalking.
Door to the light, ascend among
the ever hating Devouring throng.
After that she passed out. Detheron berated Damian for not listening to him and Damian pretty much told him he’d follow him and his advice except for matters like this. Coruth’tae tried to call for a vote of no contest against Detheron but as Zoltan said as he was stripping the drow female for her armor and clothes and weapons that this was NOT a good idea to do now. The bard took point with Olthar and the two of them went down the corridor until it was crossed by another, the smell of coal strong, a single arrow lying on the floor.
Using his stolen mirror he peered around one corner while Olthar looked around the other. There was something down the lft moving and down the right was some dogs and then a blast of flame in the wood elf’s face. Hell hounds. Damn it.
Zoltan ran across the corridor, spinning and tumbling and diving wildly, trying to make himself a difficult target – arrows were flying all around him and his long remembered reflexes had him dodging flame blasts with ease. He came to a stop on the other side and looked back at the group with a smirk. Damian was impressed and nodding to the party he braced himself and RAN across the corridor. Arrows peppered him and one found its way into his armor and he ran into every flame blast!. Hurt and smoking and stunned he was safely across (BADLY HURT) but gave a victory sign to the party and we laughed with and at him.
The group didn’t want to chance it and we came up with some plans on taking care of the enemy. Damian took a couple of potions and got his bearings back and then we took the fight to the enemy. Zoltan and Arnog charged the hellhounds and stabbed and slashed them while Damian took his faith in Baldur against the skeletons and turned the closest 5 back. Gwyn charged with his scimitar flashing and struck the skellies. Olthar hung back and Detheron quenched the hounds –their inner fires killed actually slayed the beasts!
The rest of the fight went fast and the last of the enemy were taken out. We checked out the area, little in either room. From here we went on, the corridor turning to the right and going 30’ to a door clad in iron and painted blue, fanciful designs of roaring lion’s heads in a checkerboard pattern across the surface. A large keyhole was underneath the handle.
Zoltan, referring back to Bruhndi’s vision went to the door and looked carefully at the mouths, noticing that they were each sporting a tube. Damn, most likely poison gas. The trigger was a wire inside the keyhole. It would need to be crimped to stop the trap, a failure meant it would fire off. Detheron stayed close to Zoltan and the rest of the party hung back, the druid offering a “guidance” of Frey to the gypsy’s skills and Zoltan did his thing.
And set the trap off. The poison gas billowed down the hall and both Zoltan and Detheron were coughing and choking in the aftermath, both weaker and in some pain. Gwyn shouted that, “Since it’s already gone off, at least it’s safe now.” And then Zoltan tried to remove the trap again – and again set it off, succumbing to the chlorine gas. In pain and unable to see clearly he made his way out of the gas zone and rested while Olthar was willing to try, the druid going with him. Detheron cast a spell on the wood elf making him temporarily immune to poison.
What?!?!?!
Zoltan, sucking down healing potions and getting healed by Coruth’tae’s wand looked at the druid like he was crazy. So you are saying you could have made me IMMUNE!?!?! Why didn’t YOU!?!?!?!? Detheron said that he had remembered Zoltan as almost legendary and didn’t think he was going to need that. Hahaha.
Gwyn was convinced it wouldn’t fire a third time, but was proven wrong as Olthar screwed up and triggered the trap. It was the 4th attempt that ended the constant poisoning and the trap was removed at long last. Then the lock picking tools were given to Zoltan who was a bit better and he was asked to pick the lock, “since you are much better than us”. The gypsy went there and took his time, opening the lock with a definitive click. And we ended it here.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Meet 74, Adv 8, 8/29/09
Town Adventuring - sometimes drudgery, sometimes exciting. This one was exciting. The party had some plans, followed them through, reacted well, and got the job done. Then they were into uncharted territory as they have now a strong dislike/suspicion of the goblin who has been sending them on missions. There are roughly 2 more encounters planned that rely on the facilitator and then the party moves off the goblin city and onto the rest of the adventure - but now they have a problem with the "quest giver" (someone joked that he had an exclamation point over his head ala EQ2 or WOW).
It's things like this that I like as a DM - when the party takes my loosely guided rail cart and nudges it onto a side track and spur that I didn't expect. If I wanted a static linear game I would go back to MMORPGs - I WANT the party to mix it up, take different roads, and not follow every crumb I hand out.
On another note - I have made the long dormant and wanted to decision to go back to 2nd edition thieving skills. It's been bugging me for over a year - having them under the umbrella of skills/crafts as 3.5 and I never liked it. Pick Pockets, Open Locks, Find/Remove traps, Hide in Shadows, Move Silently, Climb Walls, Read Languages - it's all there. It comes at a good time since Zoltan is coming back and one of the new Mike's I'm grabbing to play wants to try something thiefy as well.
Write up follows:
It was decided not to climb the Ironbeard Stalagmite and we talked long and hard about what we wanted and what was our course of action. End all be all, we wanted the goblins to play us straight and tell us which way to go, guiding us to the right caves and eventual road out of here. And that meant being Grix’s messenger-boys and doing what he wanted – not to go site seeing and poke around. So we opted to go back to the Rocking Table and get some watery beer and shut-eye.
We awoke the next day and after some time were summoned to the goblin Burghermeister Grix once again. The repulsive goblin had a singular mission for us – transport the offering crate from his office across Byfortevile to the bridge and give it to an Ogre guard there named Malador. The crate was filled with silver and gold, tribute from King Yikzarch to be given to Thane Kashtir.
Grix was rather blasé about the fact that once the party left his office, they were fair game and should take pains now to avoid notice and theft of the box and its contents. Our job was to deliver it and get it done, returning to him and informing the goblin functionary of anything Malador had to say.
We weighed the box, had to mass 80 lbs. One of us could carry it but it would weigh and slow them down. The chest was sizeable, but could be carried by 2 as there was a handle on each end. More plans were tossed about and we settled on Coruth’tae making the chest look like a bedraggled gnoll. Arnog and Damien picked up the chest and the grey elf altered the illusion so that it appeared they were grabbing the gnoll under the armpits. It was then given some touches such as a muzzled snout, bound hands behind its back, and its feet shackled together as well.
We were going to have Gwyn walk first with his crossbow at the ready, Arnog and Damien following behind with the illusioned chest between them, then Coruth’tae walking slow to maintain concentration on the image and adjust it if need be, then Detheron and his new tiger following afterwards, Heimdall’s Bulwark out and ready.
We nodded to Grix and informed him we’d be back soon and Gwyn opened the office door.
The party was noticed immediately by the wandering goblins but once it was observed that we had a gnoll with us, the greenskins went back to whatever they were doing. We made it outside the Manorhouse and stopped in the street just off to the side, debating on what we were to do next.
The group had to go to the bridge and we could take Goblin Row to the Statue of Odin and then veer south, staying on the crowded main path. There was much discussion about this as it was potentially very dangerous and could attract too much attention. We went over many different plans until we were zeroing in on taking the longer way around vie the Aquifier and Ironbeard Stalagmite, a much further walk but less issues for us to concern ourselves about.
However our presence in the streets of Goblin Row were not ignored and in time a group of goblinoid mercenaries came up and started to berate the party. The observing goblins were watching and getting a bit egged on by the mercenaries continuous bashing against the group, wanting them to drop the gnoll and they’ll bring it to Kashtir for questioning (the excuse we gave). It was getting to a head and we were worrying that we would have to resort to weapon play (which was a big no no against goblins according to Grix) when Coruth’tae changed his illusion slightly. Over the head of the gnoll captive, he made the disembodied head of King Yikzarch’s head of security/main throat slitter, “Gangrene” appear and give the goblins bothering us a stern warning to get the fuck out of here or face his anger.
It was not the most subtle illusion, nor was it entirely “accurate”, but it did diffuse the situation and the goblin mercenaries wandered away with some trash talking and face saving comments. Not wanting to attract anymore attention we opted to go to the right and take the long way around as it had been discussed.
At the end of Goblin Row was the hissing, steaming, clanking goliath of the gnomish Aquifier, a number of goblins and the like outside awaiting the chance to trade/barter/purchase any of the salt there. We made it past the queue without making a row although the ogre, Ann, from the Raging Horn, recognized us and wanted to know if we were coming back as we said we were going to. Detheron spoke with the simple Ogre for a bit and we made it on our way without further incident.
We circled Ironbeard Stalagmite and stayed close to the spire of rock, not daring to walk past the alleyways behind Goblin Row. From here it was a toss up, go through the main thoroughfare and a short trip down the main road to the bridge, or go by the Vermin Farm and the Boatbuilders and come up to the bridge from the west.
The party didn’t want to wander that close to the wharf and not knowing the area well enough, opted to cut through the intersection and head south down the main road past Punishment Wall to the Bridge. Most of the roadway was fairly empty, a smattering of goblins wandering about, doing whatever it is they did. It was when we entered the actual intersection that a single figure stepped out from the roadway ahead.
A male drow, perhaps 6’ tall, clad in tight fitting elven chain of some heavily carbonized metal, a pair of curved sickle-like daggers in a pair of hip sheaths, and very calm with both of his hands in his pockets stepped from the corner ahead of us and just stood there – blocking our way. We slowed and came to a stop, Gwyn at the closest maybe a dozen strides shy. We asked him to move, he said nothing at first and then told us to drop the “gnoll” and back away. He’ll take care of it. The party tried to convince him otherwise but he was not going for it.
Coruth’tae told the two fighters to “put down the gnoll” and whispered that we should only pretend to put it down, to actually stand up and try to act casual – as he was going to hopefully mask the drop with an illusion of the gnoll on the ground. It was not working out and the drow told us that we were testing his patience. Damien squinted and felt outward, detecting the distinctive “evil” taste of the drow talking to us as well 3 others nearby – two more “drowish level” evils on the roof’s of the flanking building above us, and one more generic on at the opposite corner near the drow male.
Quickly whispering to us his feelings, the party steeled themselves for the attack which came suddenly and swiftly. Two drow females emerged from the roves some 25’ feet up, each one of them pointing a hand crossbow at the party. One of them, the one on the right, clad in red leather and sneering, pointed at Coruth’tae engulfing him in a sudden globe of darkness while she shot at the fighters, her bolt hitting but the poison failing to take affect. Meanwhile the other drop female shot at Detheron, hitting the druid and dropping him to sudden venom induced sleep.
From around the corner came a snaggle toothed goblin sporting a crossbow who ran out from his hiding spot so fast that he tripped and smashed himself in the head on the building’s corner, stunning himself briefly. The last drow, the male pulled his hands out of his pockets and with a single arching overhanded motion let both of his dagger flail across the intervening space and smack into Arnog – the vemoned blades dropping him to sleep.
Coruth’tae backed out of the globe. The drow sorceress on the roof pointed at the chest and levitated it out of Damien’s grasp until it was level with the roof line. The red clad drowess slid a whip off her belt to snag the chest. Gwyn poisoned one of his bolts with wyvern venom. The grey elf let fly a bolt of lightning so that it would streak across the two roofs and hit both drows. The sorceress was lightly affected as she skipped out of the way, maintaining her levitation. The bolt skewed through the chest, the stone box crackling apart and exploding, sending flaming bags of gold and silver to rain out of the sky, pelting the unconscious Arnog. The lightning ended at the other drow female but her innate magic resistance kicked in and the lightning faded away.
Damien charged the lone drow male, throwing his armor class to the wind and trying to smite the warrior, dismayed to find the knives he had thrown shimmer and reappear back in his sheaths. The two exchanged blows, the paladin unable to strike a solid blow. The red clad drowess shot Coruth’tae, the bolt slapping against his shield spell and fading. Gwyn took aim and fired at the sorceress, scoring her deep in the leg. She slipped back, stumbled, and fell off the building, hitting the ground with a thud and succumbing to the venom that was pushed into her arteries.
The other drowess on the roof gave a command to her “brother” to “go, cut our losses” as she ran away overhead and was gone from sight. The drow fighter stayed long enough to knife Damien twice, a new dosage of poison hitting him and sending him into a slumber, before melting into the shadows and running away.
Gwyn went and got the groaning goblin, trussing him up quickly and smacking him with the scimitar until he passed out (making sure NOT to kill him as the battle had attracted some 30-40 goblin onlookers who would report if we broke taboo and knifed a goblin). Coruth’tae snagged a ring of the drow sorceress’ finger but hesitated to put it on as it was barbed along the inside. We waited for our companions to wake up from their slumber and then took stock of what we had. The drow had not stolen the money, but they did destroy the box. Damian and Detheron took off their cloaks and split the money between the two fabrics, tying it into a pair of crude sacks.
From there we opted to crowd close together and not waste any time getting to the bridge. We walked the main road, Gwyn carrying the unconscious goblin, the party looking huddled and worried. About halfway down the main crowded street we noticed the two drow just standing on the side of the road, watching us. We gave them a birth as we passed, unnerving smiles following us.
At the foot of the bridge we had only a short time to wait before one of the ogre guards came over. He demanded the payment even though we told him we wanted Malador. There was some yelling and the ogre went to hit Coruth’tae, the mage’s armor holding. So the ogre used his club, and although rippling around the mage’s enchantment, did not strike him. Thinking something was wrong with his weapon, the ogre smacked himself in the head and knocked himself clean out.
Another Ogre came to investigate, stripped the fallen one of his money pouch, and upon hearing from us on what to do, went off to go get Malador for us. The ogre in question came up and asked for the chest. We didn’t have the chest, but we DO have the money. Malador was adamant that he was SUPPOSED to get a chest and a chest was SUPPOSED to go Kashtir who would eventually give it back to him and he would bring it back here for Yikarch’s people to get it. No chest means that Malador could NOT do his job!
The party was looking around when Detheron used a number of stone shape spells and made a crude stone box out of the floor which the group then dumped the money into it and slapped a simple cover on it. Malador looked it over and took it with him, trudging across the huge bridge to the distant city of the Outsiders.
From there we went back to Grix’s office, unconscious goblin in tow, and were shocked to find the red leather wearing drow female sitting there! Damien tried to draw his sword but was restrained by Detheron. She was there complaining that bunch of surfacers had attacked her in the street unprovoked, i.e. – us. We got into some heated words and eventually Coruth’tae was speaking to her in her own language (after a quick trip in the hall to cast an ESP spell) trying to get her to slip up (mentally) on where her and the male drow were staying. He couldn’t find it, but he did stumble upon the fact that she had come to Grix BEFORE the robbery and was going to cut the goblin Burghermeister in for 10% if he would tip the drow off on the day that “box” was going to be delivered to Malador.
He verified this by reading Grix’s mind. The drow had no malice other than sowing chaos and have been playing the Duergar and the goblins off one another for years. Grix occasionally takes advantage of his position but honestly figured the group could take care of themselves and the defeat would snub the drow who have treated him like he was stupid over the years.
Some final threats were slung, we left the unconscious goblin in Grix’s hands, and then the group left the office and went back into public. We were not going to stay in the Rocking Table anymore, feeling that the drow would pay a visit on us during the night. There was also much talk about NOT working for Grix anymore – but the discussions ran hot about it. We needed Yikzarch’s blessing and help to get out of Byfortevile and the goblin king had assigned us to Grix. But Grix played us sort of false.
We settled on a few tentative measures – we would not go back to Grix now, instead go to Jarul of the Split Skulls and see if we can use our notoriety with the goblin filchers to get them to help us out. If/When we do go back to Grix, we would be tough and let the goblin know that we caught onto his bull, and by doing so no let him think he can get away with it again. And finally, if the opportunity comes for us to get out of here, don’t dicker about it – just get it done.
We went off to the Split Skulls area, the warehouse near the eastern docks and spoke with Jarul who was happy to hear from us. We told him what happened and he commiserated with us, but did say that he was not surprised. Grix is a fairly influential goblin and stealing is something goblins do well – even if it is against each other. Having a different take on it, the fact that we beat the drow and even killed one, speaks better volumes to Grix that having a party of powerful adventurers on his side is a damned good thing.
He will keep his eyes and ears opened for us and will let us know what we can do and how we can get off Byfortevile. He did tell us a few things we did not know. There are OTHER colonies of humanoid cities on the other side of the Underground Sea: Gnomes, Duergar, Drow, even a sort of cosmopolitan one with surfacers and other types all together. But since the Duergar run the boats and crossing the bridge is most likely suicide, we would need someone or something on the inside to get us out of here. As for the drow female, her name is Yasmina and she’s been around here for a few years, there are 4 in her cabal: her, a female sorceress, a quiet drow female with a penchant for grays and blacks, and a male.
From there we went to the Raging Horn and got a room from Ann where we tried to explain to him if anyone comes looking for us and they are drow, we are not here. We bedded down in a room that was used apparently for drying fish maybe a half hour before we rented it, relaxed as much as we could, and called it a day.
It's things like this that I like as a DM - when the party takes my loosely guided rail cart and nudges it onto a side track and spur that I didn't expect. If I wanted a static linear game I would go back to MMORPGs - I WANT the party to mix it up, take different roads, and not follow every crumb I hand out.
On another note - I have made the long dormant and wanted to decision to go back to 2nd edition thieving skills. It's been bugging me for over a year - having them under the umbrella of skills/crafts as 3.5 and I never liked it. Pick Pockets, Open Locks, Find/Remove traps, Hide in Shadows, Move Silently, Climb Walls, Read Languages - it's all there. It comes at a good time since Zoltan is coming back and one of the new Mike's I'm grabbing to play wants to try something thiefy as well.
Write up follows:
It was decided not to climb the Ironbeard Stalagmite and we talked long and hard about what we wanted and what was our course of action. End all be all, we wanted the goblins to play us straight and tell us which way to go, guiding us to the right caves and eventual road out of here. And that meant being Grix’s messenger-boys and doing what he wanted – not to go site seeing and poke around. So we opted to go back to the Rocking Table and get some watery beer and shut-eye.
We awoke the next day and after some time were summoned to the goblin Burghermeister Grix once again. The repulsive goblin had a singular mission for us – transport the offering crate from his office across Byfortevile to the bridge and give it to an Ogre guard there named Malador. The crate was filled with silver and gold, tribute from King Yikzarch to be given to Thane Kashtir.
Grix was rather blasé about the fact that once the party left his office, they were fair game and should take pains now to avoid notice and theft of the box and its contents. Our job was to deliver it and get it done, returning to him and informing the goblin functionary of anything Malador had to say.
We weighed the box, had to mass 80 lbs. One of us could carry it but it would weigh and slow them down. The chest was sizeable, but could be carried by 2 as there was a handle on each end. More plans were tossed about and we settled on Coruth’tae making the chest look like a bedraggled gnoll. Arnog and Damien picked up the chest and the grey elf altered the illusion so that it appeared they were grabbing the gnoll under the armpits. It was then given some touches such as a muzzled snout, bound hands behind its back, and its feet shackled together as well.
We were going to have Gwyn walk first with his crossbow at the ready, Arnog and Damien following behind with the illusioned chest between them, then Coruth’tae walking slow to maintain concentration on the image and adjust it if need be, then Detheron and his new tiger following afterwards, Heimdall’s Bulwark out and ready.
We nodded to Grix and informed him we’d be back soon and Gwyn opened the office door.
The party was noticed immediately by the wandering goblins but once it was observed that we had a gnoll with us, the greenskins went back to whatever they were doing. We made it outside the Manorhouse and stopped in the street just off to the side, debating on what we were to do next.
The group had to go to the bridge and we could take Goblin Row to the Statue of Odin and then veer south, staying on the crowded main path. There was much discussion about this as it was potentially very dangerous and could attract too much attention. We went over many different plans until we were zeroing in on taking the longer way around vie the Aquifier and Ironbeard Stalagmite, a much further walk but less issues for us to concern ourselves about.
However our presence in the streets of Goblin Row were not ignored and in time a group of goblinoid mercenaries came up and started to berate the party. The observing goblins were watching and getting a bit egged on by the mercenaries continuous bashing against the group, wanting them to drop the gnoll and they’ll bring it to Kashtir for questioning (the excuse we gave). It was getting to a head and we were worrying that we would have to resort to weapon play (which was a big no no against goblins according to Grix) when Coruth’tae changed his illusion slightly. Over the head of the gnoll captive, he made the disembodied head of King Yikzarch’s head of security/main throat slitter, “Gangrene” appear and give the goblins bothering us a stern warning to get the fuck out of here or face his anger.
It was not the most subtle illusion, nor was it entirely “accurate”, but it did diffuse the situation and the goblin mercenaries wandered away with some trash talking and face saving comments. Not wanting to attract anymore attention we opted to go to the right and take the long way around as it had been discussed.
At the end of Goblin Row was the hissing, steaming, clanking goliath of the gnomish Aquifier, a number of goblins and the like outside awaiting the chance to trade/barter/purchase any of the salt there. We made it past the queue without making a row although the ogre, Ann, from the Raging Horn, recognized us and wanted to know if we were coming back as we said we were going to. Detheron spoke with the simple Ogre for a bit and we made it on our way without further incident.
We circled Ironbeard Stalagmite and stayed close to the spire of rock, not daring to walk past the alleyways behind Goblin Row. From here it was a toss up, go through the main thoroughfare and a short trip down the main road to the bridge, or go by the Vermin Farm and the Boatbuilders and come up to the bridge from the west.
The party didn’t want to wander that close to the wharf and not knowing the area well enough, opted to cut through the intersection and head south down the main road past Punishment Wall to the Bridge. Most of the roadway was fairly empty, a smattering of goblins wandering about, doing whatever it is they did. It was when we entered the actual intersection that a single figure stepped out from the roadway ahead.
A male drow, perhaps 6’ tall, clad in tight fitting elven chain of some heavily carbonized metal, a pair of curved sickle-like daggers in a pair of hip sheaths, and very calm with both of his hands in his pockets stepped from the corner ahead of us and just stood there – blocking our way. We slowed and came to a stop, Gwyn at the closest maybe a dozen strides shy. We asked him to move, he said nothing at first and then told us to drop the “gnoll” and back away. He’ll take care of it. The party tried to convince him otherwise but he was not going for it.
Coruth’tae told the two fighters to “put down the gnoll” and whispered that we should only pretend to put it down, to actually stand up and try to act casual – as he was going to hopefully mask the drop with an illusion of the gnoll on the ground. It was not working out and the drow told us that we were testing his patience. Damien squinted and felt outward, detecting the distinctive “evil” taste of the drow talking to us as well 3 others nearby – two more “drowish level” evils on the roof’s of the flanking building above us, and one more generic on at the opposite corner near the drow male.
Quickly whispering to us his feelings, the party steeled themselves for the attack which came suddenly and swiftly. Two drow females emerged from the roves some 25’ feet up, each one of them pointing a hand crossbow at the party. One of them, the one on the right, clad in red leather and sneering, pointed at Coruth’tae engulfing him in a sudden globe of darkness while she shot at the fighters, her bolt hitting but the poison failing to take affect. Meanwhile the other drop female shot at Detheron, hitting the druid and dropping him to sudden venom induced sleep.
From around the corner came a snaggle toothed goblin sporting a crossbow who ran out from his hiding spot so fast that he tripped and smashed himself in the head on the building’s corner, stunning himself briefly. The last drow, the male pulled his hands out of his pockets and with a single arching overhanded motion let both of his dagger flail across the intervening space and smack into Arnog – the vemoned blades dropping him to sleep.
Coruth’tae backed out of the globe. The drow sorceress on the roof pointed at the chest and levitated it out of Damien’s grasp until it was level with the roof line. The red clad drowess slid a whip off her belt to snag the chest. Gwyn poisoned one of his bolts with wyvern venom. The grey elf let fly a bolt of lightning so that it would streak across the two roofs and hit both drows. The sorceress was lightly affected as she skipped out of the way, maintaining her levitation. The bolt skewed through the chest, the stone box crackling apart and exploding, sending flaming bags of gold and silver to rain out of the sky, pelting the unconscious Arnog. The lightning ended at the other drow female but her innate magic resistance kicked in and the lightning faded away.
Damien charged the lone drow male, throwing his armor class to the wind and trying to smite the warrior, dismayed to find the knives he had thrown shimmer and reappear back in his sheaths. The two exchanged blows, the paladin unable to strike a solid blow. The red clad drowess shot Coruth’tae, the bolt slapping against his shield spell and fading. Gwyn took aim and fired at the sorceress, scoring her deep in the leg. She slipped back, stumbled, and fell off the building, hitting the ground with a thud and succumbing to the venom that was pushed into her arteries.
The other drowess on the roof gave a command to her “brother” to “go, cut our losses” as she ran away overhead and was gone from sight. The drow fighter stayed long enough to knife Damien twice, a new dosage of poison hitting him and sending him into a slumber, before melting into the shadows and running away.
Gwyn went and got the groaning goblin, trussing him up quickly and smacking him with the scimitar until he passed out (making sure NOT to kill him as the battle had attracted some 30-40 goblin onlookers who would report if we broke taboo and knifed a goblin). Coruth’tae snagged a ring of the drow sorceress’ finger but hesitated to put it on as it was barbed along the inside. We waited for our companions to wake up from their slumber and then took stock of what we had. The drow had not stolen the money, but they did destroy the box. Damian and Detheron took off their cloaks and split the money between the two fabrics, tying it into a pair of crude sacks.
From there we opted to crowd close together and not waste any time getting to the bridge. We walked the main road, Gwyn carrying the unconscious goblin, the party looking huddled and worried. About halfway down the main crowded street we noticed the two drow just standing on the side of the road, watching us. We gave them a birth as we passed, unnerving smiles following us.
At the foot of the bridge we had only a short time to wait before one of the ogre guards came over. He demanded the payment even though we told him we wanted Malador. There was some yelling and the ogre went to hit Coruth’tae, the mage’s armor holding. So the ogre used his club, and although rippling around the mage’s enchantment, did not strike him. Thinking something was wrong with his weapon, the ogre smacked himself in the head and knocked himself clean out.
Another Ogre came to investigate, stripped the fallen one of his money pouch, and upon hearing from us on what to do, went off to go get Malador for us. The ogre in question came up and asked for the chest. We didn’t have the chest, but we DO have the money. Malador was adamant that he was SUPPOSED to get a chest and a chest was SUPPOSED to go Kashtir who would eventually give it back to him and he would bring it back here for Yikarch’s people to get it. No chest means that Malador could NOT do his job!
The party was looking around when Detheron used a number of stone shape spells and made a crude stone box out of the floor which the group then dumped the money into it and slapped a simple cover on it. Malador looked it over and took it with him, trudging across the huge bridge to the distant city of the Outsiders.
From there we went back to Grix’s office, unconscious goblin in tow, and were shocked to find the red leather wearing drow female sitting there! Damien tried to draw his sword but was restrained by Detheron. She was there complaining that bunch of surfacers had attacked her in the street unprovoked, i.e. – us. We got into some heated words and eventually Coruth’tae was speaking to her in her own language (after a quick trip in the hall to cast an ESP spell) trying to get her to slip up (mentally) on where her and the male drow were staying. He couldn’t find it, but he did stumble upon the fact that she had come to Grix BEFORE the robbery and was going to cut the goblin Burghermeister in for 10% if he would tip the drow off on the day that “box” was going to be delivered to Malador.
He verified this by reading Grix’s mind. The drow had no malice other than sowing chaos and have been playing the Duergar and the goblins off one another for years. Grix occasionally takes advantage of his position but honestly figured the group could take care of themselves and the defeat would snub the drow who have treated him like he was stupid over the years.
Some final threats were slung, we left the unconscious goblin in Grix’s hands, and then the group left the office and went back into public. We were not going to stay in the Rocking Table anymore, feeling that the drow would pay a visit on us during the night. There was also much talk about NOT working for Grix anymore – but the discussions ran hot about it. We needed Yikzarch’s blessing and help to get out of Byfortevile and the goblin king had assigned us to Grix. But Grix played us sort of false.
We settled on a few tentative measures – we would not go back to Grix now, instead go to Jarul of the Split Skulls and see if we can use our notoriety with the goblin filchers to get them to help us out. If/When we do go back to Grix, we would be tough and let the goblin know that we caught onto his bull, and by doing so no let him think he can get away with it again. And finally, if the opportunity comes for us to get out of here, don’t dicker about it – just get it done.
We went off to the Split Skulls area, the warehouse near the eastern docks and spoke with Jarul who was happy to hear from us. We told him what happened and he commiserated with us, but did say that he was not surprised. Grix is a fairly influential goblin and stealing is something goblins do well – even if it is against each other. Having a different take on it, the fact that we beat the drow and even killed one, speaks better volumes to Grix that having a party of powerful adventurers on his side is a damned good thing.
He will keep his eyes and ears opened for us and will let us know what we can do and how we can get off Byfortevile. He did tell us a few things we did not know. There are OTHER colonies of humanoid cities on the other side of the Underground Sea: Gnomes, Duergar, Drow, even a sort of cosmopolitan one with surfacers and other types all together. But since the Duergar run the boats and crossing the bridge is most likely suicide, we would need someone or something on the inside to get us out of here. As for the drow female, her name is Yasmina and she’s been around here for a few years, there are 4 in her cabal: her, a female sorceress, a quiet drow female with a penchant for grays and blacks, and a male.
From there we went to the Raging Horn and got a room from Ann where we tried to explain to him if anyone comes looking for us and they are drow, we are not here. We bedded down in a room that was used apparently for drying fish maybe a half hour before we rented it, relaxed as much as we could, and called it a day.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Meet 73, Adv 8, 8/22/09
After over a month of looking and interviewing, we replaced one person at the table, the new player coming in as a paladin and starting at 4th level. This brings our compliment of players to 4 around the table, with one observer for now. Of the 4 we've had poor attendance from Gwyn the dwarf, which makes the group problematic at best and underpowered in regards to role playing.
There is room for 1 more, maybe 2, and I have some more interviews next week which will get us back up to speed and strength. Looking around at the group we are thief light. A cleric or wizard wouldn't hurt either (no offense to Detheron or Coruth'tae!).
Bringing a new player in is always a jarring experience - whoever it is starts at a disadvantage in regards to level, camaraderie, knowledge of house rules, and play style. I had remembered reading in a few places a sort of "rules" or "guides" on player etiquette at the game table - pretty sure it was in some Dragon magazine or Blog somewhere. I'll have to go look it up and tweak it so that it better conforms with our group.
I am sure it will all work out and know that all will be richer for the diversity brought to the table. :)
I figure the group has 3 more meetings (give or take) in Byfortevile before I slap them into some dungeon crawling fun. Which will be good because it will give everyone a chance (new and old) to do a last bit of "towning", try to gel a bit as a group, and then get right to spelunking the dim and dank darkness of the world below on their way to the distant surface and Dragonhole above.
That reminds me - I really need to draw out Dragonhole one day soon. Chuckle - typical DM.
Write up follows:
We rested up, feeling good about ourselves and our situation. We figured that our part in the bar brawl was not our fault and that we should keep trying to be in King Yikzarch’s good graces for as long as we could.
We spent much of the morning eating lightly from our food stores, honing our weapons, and going over our belongings while awaiting word from either Undertaker Solon or Burghermeister Grix. It wasn’t more than a few hours before we had a knock at the door and we met a young human male named Damian sent to us from King Yikzarch.
Damian had been smuggled out of the Vault of Madness, a large citadel on the center island of some importance to both Kashtir Bristlestone as well as the Outsiders. It seems that Damian was a paladin of Baldur and had been portalled there almost 2 months ago by Vanir and some other mage clad in fire. He had attempted to stop the two men from burning an Orphanage in Dragonhole, the young children that were being consumed had their souls sucked into glass spheres that Vanir was holding. He spent 2 months under the yoke and lash of the demonics and had been freed almost 5 days ago by Duergar seeking to weaken Kashtir’s position with the Outsiders and hopefully be replaced by an Underthane.
Seeing our paths conjoined for the time being we opened ourselves up to the paladin and then all went to see Grix together. The goblin Burghermeister had heard about our bar brawl and noted that we accorded ourselves well during it; also following his prohibition on unnecessary slaying.
There were a number of battered goblins in Grix’ office and we learned of our next mission. The goblins here were part of a gang called the Split Skulls, a group of 20 or so toughs that work the docks as longshoremen, filching goods and cargo from those boats and skiffs loyal to Kashtir. The operated out of a warehouse along the eastern docks near the Spider Paddocks and had proven themselves to be quite lucrative to the goblins of Byfortvile.
There have been a number of gnolls over the last few weeks migrating down here since Sakath’s power was broken in Wodenvarelse above. Two days ago a band of 8 took it in their heads to tangle with the Split Skull goblins – and beat them senseless. The leader, Jarul, was captured by the gnolls and the rest of the gang was beaten to an inch of their life and sent running.
Grix wants the party to go to the warehouse and “visibly and publicly teach those gnolls that Byfortvile is a GOBLIN city and not their playground.” We took the mission and went off to check out the situation.
The warehouse in question was the last in the line, maybe 30’ from the water’s edge, three stories tall, perhaps a hundred and fifty feet wide by seventy feet deep. There was one sliding double door for loading and unloading, two other main doors, and one smaller back door. We talked about a number of plans discarding them one after the other, until it was decided we just go up to the place, make an ass load of noise, and then call them out – fighting in the street.
Gwyn readied a crossbow bolt with his Wyvern venom, Detheron called on Frey to fill Arnog with holy strength, and Coruth’tae cast a shield spell around himself. Damian and Arnog put a couple of barrels in front of one of the doors to slow down anyone attempting to come out. And then Coruth’tae cast a glamour that made it sound like a dozen goblins were shouting their heads off for Flitch (the gnoll leader we were told, who also had a cat) to come out. The main doors slid opened and gnolls started pouring out into the street, half of them clad in armor and wielding morningstars, the other bare-chested (no cat so far).
Coruth’tae used his Staff of Power and sent a Fireball streaming into the building blowing the gnolls about and knocking a few of them down, but most of them were able to block or roll away from the bulk of the fire. Detheron called on Frey’s will and a horde of a thousand rats boiled out of cracks, holes, and from down the street massing in front of the druid and ready to charge forward into the packed gnolls. Gwyn swapped from his crossbow and precious poisoned bolt to his regular bow and fired at the unarmored gnoll.
Only to see his arrow knocked out of the air. A second shot followed and the gnoll snatched it with his fingertips and broke it with one hand. Fuck.
And the door behind us shook and banged as someone on the other side tried to push it opened, the barrels slowing him/them down briefly. We stayed together and got ourselves ready as the other door exploded opened and out stepped two more unarmored gnolls, one of them his fur dyed orange and striped in black. And then a growl echoed as a 300 lb tiger stepped out and snarled at us.
Detheron sent his swarm against the 6 count of gnolls and let his concentration wane, the maddened rodents impeding and biting and crawling wildly over the gnolls. Gwyn took up his crossbow and fired it at what we identified as Flitch – only to see his precious poisoned bolt sent away with a palm blow from the preternaturally fast monkish gnoll. The dwarf then growled and said, “No more missile weapons I guess, it’s sword work time.” He and Arnog stepped forward and took the fight to Flitch and the other monkish gnoll there.
Some of the gnolls mixed up with the rats broke away and tried to run elsewhere in the building, but one of them kicked his way free and raced toward Damian. The young paladin joined the battle and calling on Baldur wildly he channeled his own power into his sword and “smote” the gnoll full on, slaying the evil beast with a single stroke of his great sword.
Detheron called on Frey and tried to dominate the tiger, his will encaging the cat and forcing it to obey his wants, attacking Flitch! The gnoll was wroth and forced the tiger into submission with a brutal blow to the head, knocking the cat out for a few minutes. He then turned to the druid and said, “I’m going to KILL you!” and charged. Damn.
Arnog couldn’t stop him as he was still struggling with the other gnoll but Gwyn jumped in the way and scimitar ahead of him got a singular lucky shot against Flitch’s chest, bringing him to a stop. Coruth’tae made himself appear to be covered in lightning and pulling his dagger free also tried to intersperse himself between the gnoll and druid.
From inside the warehouse one of the gnolls tried to come out the window but Damian was there with sword and did brutal fight with the giggling beast. Others came at him from the other side, morning star crashing against his splint mail and he struggled to beat back the next gnoll.
Detheron yelled for Frey and a lion appeared in a flash, assaulting Flitch and raking the gnoll hard. Seeing Coruth’tae as the easiest target he went to attack the mage and was surprised to find his blows turned aside by the combined powers of the Shield spell and the Mage Armor! The gnoll was getting beaten badly and with a lucky blow Gwyn hacked into his chest and Flitch went down dead. Not believing it Arnog tried to whack off Flitch’s head but the gnoll was playing possum and kicked Arnog hard in the leg and ankle, hurting the young fighter.
Another gnoll came out of the warehouse and Detheron called on Frey once more, summoning a hippogriff to take out the new threat. The gnoll leader was slain at long last and seeing this the last few gnolls charged Detheron looking to take vengeance against him. Damian finally took down the last one he was fighting and tried to help as did Gwyn. Coruth’tae made it appear that entangling ropes were binding the two gnolls but only one of them fell for the illusion.
Gwyn tackled the “bound” gnoll and the dwarf and gnoll went over the side of the shore line where the gnoll sunk to the bottom and Gwyn was able to swim enough to keep from going under, holding onto the side wall for purchase. The last of the fight ended swiftly and we gathered ourselves together. Detheron was pretty badly hurt as Damian, Arnog, and Gwyn were also somewhat wounded. Healing was dispensed and the druid then cast a number of spells on the tiger, binding the animal to him.
We had amassed an audience and felt sure that our activities would be reported favorably. We looked over the warehouse, it was filled with some stolen cargo and three unconscious, badly hurt goblins. Detheron used the healing unguent we had and soothed the worst of the wounds, rousing the three from their stupor. One of them was Jarul and we talked about the gnolls, what happened, our actions, and Grix’s feeling of the Split Skull’s importance. He gave us a necklace of a dog’s skull that had been dipped in silver, sort of an important badge of office for the goblins.
Detheron had removed Flitch’s head and had it on his boar spear and we took our time getting ready to head back to Grix when a large, very large, goblin came up. Strong and wide, he was dragging a low flat-bottomed cart behind him. Other goblins gave him a wide respectful berth as he went to each gnoll, picked up the dead body and slung it on the cart.
Coruth’tae asked if he was Undertaker Solon (he was) and the goblin had little interest in talking with us. It took some conversation and convincing and eventually showing the soul sphere before he agreed that he knew about it. Would take us to see the “slimy man” when he was done with his duties. No we can’t see the slimy man now; no he won’t tell us where to go. He’ll find us later.
We went back to Grix with Jarul and the other goblins where we were thanked for our efforts. Grix would talk with the leader of the Split Skulls and come up with a fair reward for us for our efforts. Until then we were on our own until at least tomorrow. There was talk about climbing Ironbeard Stalagmite but we wanted to sit and talk about it first before making any such gesture.
There is room for 1 more, maybe 2, and I have some more interviews next week which will get us back up to speed and strength. Looking around at the group we are thief light. A cleric or wizard wouldn't hurt either (no offense to Detheron or Coruth'tae!).
Bringing a new player in is always a jarring experience - whoever it is starts at a disadvantage in regards to level, camaraderie, knowledge of house rules, and play style. I had remembered reading in a few places a sort of "rules" or "guides" on player etiquette at the game table - pretty sure it was in some Dragon magazine or Blog somewhere. I'll have to go look it up and tweak it so that it better conforms with our group.
I am sure it will all work out and know that all will be richer for the diversity brought to the table. :)
I figure the group has 3 more meetings (give or take) in Byfortevile before I slap them into some dungeon crawling fun. Which will be good because it will give everyone a chance (new and old) to do a last bit of "towning", try to gel a bit as a group, and then get right to spelunking the dim and dank darkness of the world below on their way to the distant surface and Dragonhole above.
That reminds me - I really need to draw out Dragonhole one day soon. Chuckle - typical DM.
Write up follows:
We rested up, feeling good about ourselves and our situation. We figured that our part in the bar brawl was not our fault and that we should keep trying to be in King Yikzarch’s good graces for as long as we could.
We spent much of the morning eating lightly from our food stores, honing our weapons, and going over our belongings while awaiting word from either Undertaker Solon or Burghermeister Grix. It wasn’t more than a few hours before we had a knock at the door and we met a young human male named Damian sent to us from King Yikzarch.
Damian had been smuggled out of the Vault of Madness, a large citadel on the center island of some importance to both Kashtir Bristlestone as well as the Outsiders. It seems that Damian was a paladin of Baldur and had been portalled there almost 2 months ago by Vanir and some other mage clad in fire. He had attempted to stop the two men from burning an Orphanage in Dragonhole, the young children that were being consumed had their souls sucked into glass spheres that Vanir was holding. He spent 2 months under the yoke and lash of the demonics and had been freed almost 5 days ago by Duergar seeking to weaken Kashtir’s position with the Outsiders and hopefully be replaced by an Underthane.
Seeing our paths conjoined for the time being we opened ourselves up to the paladin and then all went to see Grix together. The goblin Burghermeister had heard about our bar brawl and noted that we accorded ourselves well during it; also following his prohibition on unnecessary slaying.
There were a number of battered goblins in Grix’ office and we learned of our next mission. The goblins here were part of a gang called the Split Skulls, a group of 20 or so toughs that work the docks as longshoremen, filching goods and cargo from those boats and skiffs loyal to Kashtir. The operated out of a warehouse along the eastern docks near the Spider Paddocks and had proven themselves to be quite lucrative to the goblins of Byfortvile.
There have been a number of gnolls over the last few weeks migrating down here since Sakath’s power was broken in Wodenvarelse above. Two days ago a band of 8 took it in their heads to tangle with the Split Skull goblins – and beat them senseless. The leader, Jarul, was captured by the gnolls and the rest of the gang was beaten to an inch of their life and sent running.
Grix wants the party to go to the warehouse and “visibly and publicly teach those gnolls that Byfortvile is a GOBLIN city and not their playground.” We took the mission and went off to check out the situation.
The warehouse in question was the last in the line, maybe 30’ from the water’s edge, three stories tall, perhaps a hundred and fifty feet wide by seventy feet deep. There was one sliding double door for loading and unloading, two other main doors, and one smaller back door. We talked about a number of plans discarding them one after the other, until it was decided we just go up to the place, make an ass load of noise, and then call them out – fighting in the street.
Gwyn readied a crossbow bolt with his Wyvern venom, Detheron called on Frey to fill Arnog with holy strength, and Coruth’tae cast a shield spell around himself. Damian and Arnog put a couple of barrels in front of one of the doors to slow down anyone attempting to come out. And then Coruth’tae cast a glamour that made it sound like a dozen goblins were shouting their heads off for Flitch (the gnoll leader we were told, who also had a cat) to come out. The main doors slid opened and gnolls started pouring out into the street, half of them clad in armor and wielding morningstars, the other bare-chested (no cat so far).
Coruth’tae used his Staff of Power and sent a Fireball streaming into the building blowing the gnolls about and knocking a few of them down, but most of them were able to block or roll away from the bulk of the fire. Detheron called on Frey’s will and a horde of a thousand rats boiled out of cracks, holes, and from down the street massing in front of the druid and ready to charge forward into the packed gnolls. Gwyn swapped from his crossbow and precious poisoned bolt to his regular bow and fired at the unarmored gnoll.
Only to see his arrow knocked out of the air. A second shot followed and the gnoll snatched it with his fingertips and broke it with one hand. Fuck.
And the door behind us shook and banged as someone on the other side tried to push it opened, the barrels slowing him/them down briefly. We stayed together and got ourselves ready as the other door exploded opened and out stepped two more unarmored gnolls, one of them his fur dyed orange and striped in black. And then a growl echoed as a 300 lb tiger stepped out and snarled at us.
Detheron sent his swarm against the 6 count of gnolls and let his concentration wane, the maddened rodents impeding and biting and crawling wildly over the gnolls. Gwyn took up his crossbow and fired it at what we identified as Flitch – only to see his precious poisoned bolt sent away with a palm blow from the preternaturally fast monkish gnoll. The dwarf then growled and said, “No more missile weapons I guess, it’s sword work time.” He and Arnog stepped forward and took the fight to Flitch and the other monkish gnoll there.
Some of the gnolls mixed up with the rats broke away and tried to run elsewhere in the building, but one of them kicked his way free and raced toward Damian. The young paladin joined the battle and calling on Baldur wildly he channeled his own power into his sword and “smote” the gnoll full on, slaying the evil beast with a single stroke of his great sword.
Detheron called on Frey and tried to dominate the tiger, his will encaging the cat and forcing it to obey his wants, attacking Flitch! The gnoll was wroth and forced the tiger into submission with a brutal blow to the head, knocking the cat out for a few minutes. He then turned to the druid and said, “I’m going to KILL you!” and charged. Damn.
Arnog couldn’t stop him as he was still struggling with the other gnoll but Gwyn jumped in the way and scimitar ahead of him got a singular lucky shot against Flitch’s chest, bringing him to a stop. Coruth’tae made himself appear to be covered in lightning and pulling his dagger free also tried to intersperse himself between the gnoll and druid.
From inside the warehouse one of the gnolls tried to come out the window but Damian was there with sword and did brutal fight with the giggling beast. Others came at him from the other side, morning star crashing against his splint mail and he struggled to beat back the next gnoll.
Detheron yelled for Frey and a lion appeared in a flash, assaulting Flitch and raking the gnoll hard. Seeing Coruth’tae as the easiest target he went to attack the mage and was surprised to find his blows turned aside by the combined powers of the Shield spell and the Mage Armor! The gnoll was getting beaten badly and with a lucky blow Gwyn hacked into his chest and Flitch went down dead. Not believing it Arnog tried to whack off Flitch’s head but the gnoll was playing possum and kicked Arnog hard in the leg and ankle, hurting the young fighter.
Another gnoll came out of the warehouse and Detheron called on Frey once more, summoning a hippogriff to take out the new threat. The gnoll leader was slain at long last and seeing this the last few gnolls charged Detheron looking to take vengeance against him. Damian finally took down the last one he was fighting and tried to help as did Gwyn. Coruth’tae made it appear that entangling ropes were binding the two gnolls but only one of them fell for the illusion.
Gwyn tackled the “bound” gnoll and the dwarf and gnoll went over the side of the shore line where the gnoll sunk to the bottom and Gwyn was able to swim enough to keep from going under, holding onto the side wall for purchase. The last of the fight ended swiftly and we gathered ourselves together. Detheron was pretty badly hurt as Damian, Arnog, and Gwyn were also somewhat wounded. Healing was dispensed and the druid then cast a number of spells on the tiger, binding the animal to him.
We had amassed an audience and felt sure that our activities would be reported favorably. We looked over the warehouse, it was filled with some stolen cargo and three unconscious, badly hurt goblins. Detheron used the healing unguent we had and soothed the worst of the wounds, rousing the three from their stupor. One of them was Jarul and we talked about the gnolls, what happened, our actions, and Grix’s feeling of the Split Skull’s importance. He gave us a necklace of a dog’s skull that had been dipped in silver, sort of an important badge of office for the goblins.
Detheron had removed Flitch’s head and had it on his boar spear and we took our time getting ready to head back to Grix when a large, very large, goblin came up. Strong and wide, he was dragging a low flat-bottomed cart behind him. Other goblins gave him a wide respectful berth as he went to each gnoll, picked up the dead body and slung it on the cart.
Coruth’tae asked if he was Undertaker Solon (he was) and the goblin had little interest in talking with us. It took some conversation and convincing and eventually showing the soul sphere before he agreed that he knew about it. Would take us to see the “slimy man” when he was done with his duties. No we can’t see the slimy man now; no he won’t tell us where to go. He’ll find us later.
We went back to Grix with Jarul and the other goblins where we were thanked for our efforts. Grix would talk with the leader of the Split Skulls and come up with a fair reward for us for our efforts. Until then we were on our own until at least tomorrow. There was talk about climbing Ironbeard Stalagmite but we wanted to sit and talk about it first before making any such gesture.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Meet 72, Adv 8, 8/15/09
Officially the group is down to 3 players at the table (1 on self-imposed hiatus, unsure if ever coming back, 1 kicked out a month ago, and 1 I opted not to replace some time ago), coupled with the really crappy attendance this summer has not made for the smoothest game playing as of late.
So I took the DM liberty, hitched the party up to the railroad tracks, and locomotived them through the rough patch for a bit and 15 minutes of plot exposition and loose end tie up or cut off. I don't like to do that but didn't want to lose half a meeting on maintenance. I cut loose a pile of NPC's which made my life much easier and slid the group not exactly subtly, but seamlessly, into the next part of the adventure.
Town adventures. I like them. Some people don't, the player who was doing Karis hated them, and I feel that the player doing Gwyn doesn't give enough thought to them. But the others around the table do and did and it was nice to do some town things. Like shake down a local business. Deal with the local mid-level town functionary. Investigate a lead with a witch. Visit a new bar. Track down a townie. And my favorite - Bar Brawl.
Had one planned, knew it was coming, but Detheron the party's druid just pretty much bee-lined towards the upcoming and potential bar brawl so definitively that I thought for a minute he had looked at my notes and opted to start it himself. I let it play out organically and just sat back, rolling where it was needed to and let the fight wear itself out.
I forgot how much fun a D&D bar brawl was to have. I have to have them more often.
Write up follows:
The pastries as had been requested were made, poorly to be sure, but more than good enough for the goblin’s palate. We were accorded a place to stay as “guests” in the lower level of King Yikzarch’s castle where we cooled our heels and thought long and hard about what had befallen us and where we were to go next. The days passed and eventually the rest of our friends made their way down to Byfortvile, the ghostly purple and yellow flaming sun set above the tall tower in the center isle testament to how far from home the party was.
Both sets of adventurers met up in the goblin king’s domicile, much back clapping and congratulations abounding. We talked of what happened and where we had gone, things we had seen and choices we had made. Roxarn of the Red Clouds was reviled and there was talk about exacting revenge. But some things had changed and not for the better. Karis had taken the party’s predicament to heart and after thinking on his actions and choices, it was time for the half-ogre to come to grips with who he was: a beast, a tough, not a knight, and not worthy to lead the Sundered Chains any more. He opted to leave the group and lend his sword to the likes of Dargis, Spax and Thad – aiding to lead those the Red Clouds had duped and take his payment against them with bestial fury and flashing blade.
Arnog though decided otherwise and the young fighter with the good heart knew that there was something larger afoot than just what he had seen and he had come to respect Gwyn and Detheron. Seeing them left without a fighter at their disposal (a fact that the good dwarf would disagree with, chuckle) opted to stand by his new friends and aid them in their similar yet different course of action.
Eventually King Yikzarch gave the Sundered Chains audience and we learned that the goblin king was pleased at our courtesy and fawning. We were set free from his dungeons and offered the entirety of Byfortvile to explore at our want and disposal. The city itself was “neutral” ground, ostensibly under the goblin tribe’s control and governance but still at the sympathetic relationship and bound up with the Duergar and Thane Kashtir Bristlestone.
In order to utilize our skills and abilities, we were given to his Burgomaster Grix, to be used where our unfettered allegiances would best support the goblins’ cause. Coruth’tae spied on the King and Grix with care, using his ESP spell to the best of his benefit and verifying that unless we made ourselves a difficult burden, the goblins would play us true and honorable.
Our first task for the Burgomaster was to go to the end of Goblin Row, there we would find a gnomish machinery called the Aquifier. According to Grix, King Yikzarch was convinced that the gnomish foreman, Thurgis Ironsprocket, was skimming off the “salt tax” that was paid to the goblin monarch. We were sent to convince the gnomes to pay up and if necessary, rough them up if they didn’t see fit to pay.
We agreed and went on our way. The Aquifier was some giant gnomish clockwork machine perched near the end of Byfortevile, up against the great deluge of water that fell from the hole 400’ overhead. Fins ran into and around the falling water, tracking fresh water into sluices that were sent through the keep-sized machine where it was boiled and purified and then the salt was extracted and sold to the fisheries and other industries in the goblin and Duergar environs.
The party spent some time looking the place over, noting the many patrons lined up to buy the fresh salt, until Thurgis was sent to us. The gnome was taciturn and unwilling to agree that he had done anything wrong, stone-walling the party. Coruth’tae dropped a Hypnotism spell, affecting the gnome and a handful of the surrounding helpers, convincing them that it would be in everyone’s best interest in helping the king by giving up any salt tax held behind.
Thurgis, his attitude changed, went and got most of a bag of silver, giving it to the party and apologizing for what he called a “gross mistake in judgment”. The party minimized it and made friendly overtures with the gnome. Thurgis recommended the party get something to eat at the “Raging Horn” which was south of here in the warehouse district. We left and worked our way back to Grix, presenting the goblin burgomaster with our silver, Detheron commenting that “next time he should give us a more difficult task”.
Grix laughed and agreed. He split about 10% of the silver off and gave it to the party as their share of the job. He then split off 30% and swept it into another bag, saying that this portion was for Kashtir Bristlestone. King Yikzarch’s grandfather in an effort to keep the peace and maintain good trade as well as the boats plying the underground sea, had made a deal with the dwarven Thane in which 30% of all collected monies would be given to the duergar. It was unpleasant but the goblin’s felt unwilling to change the deal.
We were told that we could get a room that would cater to our kind across the street at the “Rocking Table” and Grix would send for us when he would need us next. As a last, commenting on the glass sphere Coruth’tae had with Zoltan’s form in it, he had no idea about it or where it would have come from but an old goblin witch named B’lyris on the eastern side of town near the Spider Paddock would be a good place to go and ask.
The party split up, Coruth’tae going to find B’Lyris and the rest of the group (after acquiring a room at the Rocking Table) going to follow up at Thurgis and then the Raging Horn – the grey elf would meet up with them after his side trip.
Detheron led Gwyn and Arnog back to Thurgis at the Aquifier, making friends even more so with the gnome by presenting him with the 10% fee that Grix had given us, cementing good relations with the gnome. From there the party went to the Raging Horn, an ogre run and owned establishment that catered to hard working goblin fishers and salters. We were looked at strangely and an ogre named Ann (yes, he DARED us to make a comment on his name – Detheron declined to) took our order: either fish stew, rat stew, or fish and rat stew. It was thick and chunky and vile, but the group did choke it down along with what grog was available to drink. Then it was make conversation with the locals and share stories, making sure to get ourselves across as “friendly” and not let things the goblins would say disturb us (such as: when you are raiding the surface instead of killing a baker and stealing his breads and pastries, it would be better to bring him down to the underground and chop off a leg, keeping the baker alive to make more breadstuffs and now lamed unable to run away).
As for Coruth’tae, he went to find B’Lyris, her place looking like any other fisher warehouse, except there was a wizard mark upon it. He entered, made comment of the mark, and met B’Lyris. She was a wizened and wretched looking gobliness, wrinkled and crone-like. The two of them bantered a bit, Coruth’tae unsure of her skill and power and not wanting to tip his own hand to it. He presented the glass ball and she identified it as a soulsphere. Someone died under great stress and was captured within.
No she can’t make them, but there was someone who knew more of it; Undertaker Solon. Worked at the gravesite at the southern tip of Byfortevile near the bridge. The two of them parted not as friends but wary of each other and Coruth’tae went next to the grave area.
Three disgusting goblins were there, gates closed. Undertaker Solon was not in and they said they did not know when he’d be back, if at all. When pressed for a name, Coruth’tae gave “Gwynwyhvar” as the name and walked away. He illusioned himself as an Ogre and came back, trying again to find Undertaker Solon and was given the same info – not here, don’t know when he’ll be back. Go away. He grumbled and wandered toward the Raging Horn, changing his illusion to that of a goblin instead.
Upon arrival he entered and tried to sit with his friends where they had no idea who he was and had Ann toss the strange goblin out into the street. Sigh, poor illusionists. He dropped the glamour and came back in and the party reconnected – we shared what we had learned back and forth and decided to go to the Rocking Table and await either Grix or Solon contacting us.
At the Table we drank for a bit and chatted with locals, and there was a punching contest between two goblins. Detheron tried to get in on it and the Duergar taking bets was rude but took his 10 crowns. When the druid’s choice won and he tried to collect his share he was told that bets with surfacers was not honored and to buzz off. Words were exchanged, pushing ensued and the druid was sent stumbling back into a table of dark dwarves, spilling their drinks all over the place.
Oh….shit.
The bar brawl exploded. Dark dwarves pummeled Detheron with mugs and plates. Goblins ran across the bar, piling on an ogre who tried to sweep some of the dwarves off Detheron with a sturdy chair. The party tried to make some head way over there but other Duergar stepped in and accosted Gwyn and Arnog. A drow fighter calmly sipped her brew and made herself invisible. A gnollish warrior tried to attack Detheron but was terribly nervous. Some plate mailed fighter slammed sword wildly at a goblin that foolishly attacked him.
Food and bottles were thrown and chairs were hurled. Detheron tried to roll free but was having a difficult time. Coruth’tae was slapped with a Shocking Grasp spell. The Ogre trying to help us was knocked lower as goblins assaulted his feet and knees. Arnog took the Duergar he was fighting and grappling together, hoisted him off the ground and hurled him across the bar, knocking the gnoll down at the last moment. The drow female reappeared behind a goblin stabbing a Duergar and slit his throat, making a “silence” motion with her finger and lips at Detheron and then walked out of the bar. The plate mailed fighter killed the goblin he was fighting.
The bar brawl was getting out of hand, the gnoll tried to escape but when he got to the door, the drow was hiding there on the other side and stabbed him in the throat and chest, killing him and shutting the door silently. Great. Detheron finally able to cast a spell and reeling from all the punches he was receiving, called on Frey for aid and a god damned LION appeared, tearing one of the Duergar to shreds and causing the other ones to rethink their plans. One turned invisible and two of them grabbed the druid and tried to knock him out by slamming him repeatedly against the back wall. Gwyn picked up his beer, looked at the plate mailed fighter, toasted him and sat down.
Arnog climbed onto the table and dove into the fight, taking another Duergar down. Coruth’tae wended his way across the bar to a quiet area and sat near a goblin tough who was watching the fight with a wary eye. The bar owner came out calling for the watch and pointed a staff at the ogre on the ground and the goblins beating him up – the staff shooting out a blast of webbing and ending that pocket of struggle. Detheron called on Frey again and summoned another animal – this time a wild boar! The boar and the lion tore into two more dark dwarves and cleared more of the area around Detheron free. The grey elf giving the bar owner a piercing look and remembering the crappy way he was treated earlier strode right up to the goblin and cast Fear in his face. The goblin screamed and dropped his web staff, running away. Meanwhile the two goblins who had been having the punching contest so long ago, were STILL going at it – neither party willing to concede defeat.
At this point the ogre and goblin watch came in and those still fighting were knocked on the head and their fighting came to a stop. Coruth’tae gave the web staff to Detheron (7 charges – whoo hoo!) and when the bar keep came to him looking for it, it was “no where to be found.” We decided to go to our room, which was a 12 x 12 cell with a broken 5-drawer dresser with only 3 drawers, a clay decanter for water, and a dozen stuffed sacks with hair, dirt, and fungus to be used as beds. There was a lock but we felt that it was just for show and wouldn’t keep out a drunken field mouse. With that we laid down and went to sleep, ending the meeting there – 2 miles underground in a goblin run inn after participating in a bar brawl.
So I took the DM liberty, hitched the party up to the railroad tracks, and locomotived them through the rough patch for a bit and 15 minutes of plot exposition and loose end tie up or cut off. I don't like to do that but didn't want to lose half a meeting on maintenance. I cut loose a pile of NPC's which made my life much easier and slid the group not exactly subtly, but seamlessly, into the next part of the adventure.
Town adventures. I like them. Some people don't, the player who was doing Karis hated them, and I feel that the player doing Gwyn doesn't give enough thought to them. But the others around the table do and did and it was nice to do some town things. Like shake down a local business. Deal with the local mid-level town functionary. Investigate a lead with a witch. Visit a new bar. Track down a townie. And my favorite - Bar Brawl.
Had one planned, knew it was coming, but Detheron the party's druid just pretty much bee-lined towards the upcoming and potential bar brawl so definitively that I thought for a minute he had looked at my notes and opted to start it himself. I let it play out organically and just sat back, rolling where it was needed to and let the fight wear itself out.
I forgot how much fun a D&D bar brawl was to have. I have to have them more often.
Write up follows:
The pastries as had been requested were made, poorly to be sure, but more than good enough for the goblin’s palate. We were accorded a place to stay as “guests” in the lower level of King Yikzarch’s castle where we cooled our heels and thought long and hard about what had befallen us and where we were to go next. The days passed and eventually the rest of our friends made their way down to Byfortvile, the ghostly purple and yellow flaming sun set above the tall tower in the center isle testament to how far from home the party was.
Both sets of adventurers met up in the goblin king’s domicile, much back clapping and congratulations abounding. We talked of what happened and where we had gone, things we had seen and choices we had made. Roxarn of the Red Clouds was reviled and there was talk about exacting revenge. But some things had changed and not for the better. Karis had taken the party’s predicament to heart and after thinking on his actions and choices, it was time for the half-ogre to come to grips with who he was: a beast, a tough, not a knight, and not worthy to lead the Sundered Chains any more. He opted to leave the group and lend his sword to the likes of Dargis, Spax and Thad – aiding to lead those the Red Clouds had duped and take his payment against them with bestial fury and flashing blade.
Arnog though decided otherwise and the young fighter with the good heart knew that there was something larger afoot than just what he had seen and he had come to respect Gwyn and Detheron. Seeing them left without a fighter at their disposal (a fact that the good dwarf would disagree with, chuckle) opted to stand by his new friends and aid them in their similar yet different course of action.
Eventually King Yikzarch gave the Sundered Chains audience and we learned that the goblin king was pleased at our courtesy and fawning. We were set free from his dungeons and offered the entirety of Byfortvile to explore at our want and disposal. The city itself was “neutral” ground, ostensibly under the goblin tribe’s control and governance but still at the sympathetic relationship and bound up with the Duergar and Thane Kashtir Bristlestone.
In order to utilize our skills and abilities, we were given to his Burgomaster Grix, to be used where our unfettered allegiances would best support the goblins’ cause. Coruth’tae spied on the King and Grix with care, using his ESP spell to the best of his benefit and verifying that unless we made ourselves a difficult burden, the goblins would play us true and honorable.
Our first task for the Burgomaster was to go to the end of Goblin Row, there we would find a gnomish machinery called the Aquifier. According to Grix, King Yikzarch was convinced that the gnomish foreman, Thurgis Ironsprocket, was skimming off the “salt tax” that was paid to the goblin monarch. We were sent to convince the gnomes to pay up and if necessary, rough them up if they didn’t see fit to pay.
We agreed and went on our way. The Aquifier was some giant gnomish clockwork machine perched near the end of Byfortevile, up against the great deluge of water that fell from the hole 400’ overhead. Fins ran into and around the falling water, tracking fresh water into sluices that were sent through the keep-sized machine where it was boiled and purified and then the salt was extracted and sold to the fisheries and other industries in the goblin and Duergar environs.
The party spent some time looking the place over, noting the many patrons lined up to buy the fresh salt, until Thurgis was sent to us. The gnome was taciturn and unwilling to agree that he had done anything wrong, stone-walling the party. Coruth’tae dropped a Hypnotism spell, affecting the gnome and a handful of the surrounding helpers, convincing them that it would be in everyone’s best interest in helping the king by giving up any salt tax held behind.
Thurgis, his attitude changed, went and got most of a bag of silver, giving it to the party and apologizing for what he called a “gross mistake in judgment”. The party minimized it and made friendly overtures with the gnome. Thurgis recommended the party get something to eat at the “Raging Horn” which was south of here in the warehouse district. We left and worked our way back to Grix, presenting the goblin burgomaster with our silver, Detheron commenting that “next time he should give us a more difficult task”.
Grix laughed and agreed. He split about 10% of the silver off and gave it to the party as their share of the job. He then split off 30% and swept it into another bag, saying that this portion was for Kashtir Bristlestone. King Yikzarch’s grandfather in an effort to keep the peace and maintain good trade as well as the boats plying the underground sea, had made a deal with the dwarven Thane in which 30% of all collected monies would be given to the duergar. It was unpleasant but the goblin’s felt unwilling to change the deal.
We were told that we could get a room that would cater to our kind across the street at the “Rocking Table” and Grix would send for us when he would need us next. As a last, commenting on the glass sphere Coruth’tae had with Zoltan’s form in it, he had no idea about it or where it would have come from but an old goblin witch named B’lyris on the eastern side of town near the Spider Paddock would be a good place to go and ask.
The party split up, Coruth’tae going to find B’Lyris and the rest of the group (after acquiring a room at the Rocking Table) going to follow up at Thurgis and then the Raging Horn – the grey elf would meet up with them after his side trip.
Detheron led Gwyn and Arnog back to Thurgis at the Aquifier, making friends even more so with the gnome by presenting him with the 10% fee that Grix had given us, cementing good relations with the gnome. From there the party went to the Raging Horn, an ogre run and owned establishment that catered to hard working goblin fishers and salters. We were looked at strangely and an ogre named Ann (yes, he DARED us to make a comment on his name – Detheron declined to) took our order: either fish stew, rat stew, or fish and rat stew. It was thick and chunky and vile, but the group did choke it down along with what grog was available to drink. Then it was make conversation with the locals and share stories, making sure to get ourselves across as “friendly” and not let things the goblins would say disturb us (such as: when you are raiding the surface instead of killing a baker and stealing his breads and pastries, it would be better to bring him down to the underground and chop off a leg, keeping the baker alive to make more breadstuffs and now lamed unable to run away).
As for Coruth’tae, he went to find B’Lyris, her place looking like any other fisher warehouse, except there was a wizard mark upon it. He entered, made comment of the mark, and met B’Lyris. She was a wizened and wretched looking gobliness, wrinkled and crone-like. The two of them bantered a bit, Coruth’tae unsure of her skill and power and not wanting to tip his own hand to it. He presented the glass ball and she identified it as a soulsphere. Someone died under great stress and was captured within.
No she can’t make them, but there was someone who knew more of it; Undertaker Solon. Worked at the gravesite at the southern tip of Byfortevile near the bridge. The two of them parted not as friends but wary of each other and Coruth’tae went next to the grave area.
Three disgusting goblins were there, gates closed. Undertaker Solon was not in and they said they did not know when he’d be back, if at all. When pressed for a name, Coruth’tae gave “Gwynwyhvar” as the name and walked away. He illusioned himself as an Ogre and came back, trying again to find Undertaker Solon and was given the same info – not here, don’t know when he’ll be back. Go away. He grumbled and wandered toward the Raging Horn, changing his illusion to that of a goblin instead.
Upon arrival he entered and tried to sit with his friends where they had no idea who he was and had Ann toss the strange goblin out into the street. Sigh, poor illusionists. He dropped the glamour and came back in and the party reconnected – we shared what we had learned back and forth and decided to go to the Rocking Table and await either Grix or Solon contacting us.
At the Table we drank for a bit and chatted with locals, and there was a punching contest between two goblins. Detheron tried to get in on it and the Duergar taking bets was rude but took his 10 crowns. When the druid’s choice won and he tried to collect his share he was told that bets with surfacers was not honored and to buzz off. Words were exchanged, pushing ensued and the druid was sent stumbling back into a table of dark dwarves, spilling their drinks all over the place.
Oh….shit.
The bar brawl exploded. Dark dwarves pummeled Detheron with mugs and plates. Goblins ran across the bar, piling on an ogre who tried to sweep some of the dwarves off Detheron with a sturdy chair. The party tried to make some head way over there but other Duergar stepped in and accosted Gwyn and Arnog. A drow fighter calmly sipped her brew and made herself invisible. A gnollish warrior tried to attack Detheron but was terribly nervous. Some plate mailed fighter slammed sword wildly at a goblin that foolishly attacked him.
Food and bottles were thrown and chairs were hurled. Detheron tried to roll free but was having a difficult time. Coruth’tae was slapped with a Shocking Grasp spell. The Ogre trying to help us was knocked lower as goblins assaulted his feet and knees. Arnog took the Duergar he was fighting and grappling together, hoisted him off the ground and hurled him across the bar, knocking the gnoll down at the last moment. The drow female reappeared behind a goblin stabbing a Duergar and slit his throat, making a “silence” motion with her finger and lips at Detheron and then walked out of the bar. The plate mailed fighter killed the goblin he was fighting.
The bar brawl was getting out of hand, the gnoll tried to escape but when he got to the door, the drow was hiding there on the other side and stabbed him in the throat and chest, killing him and shutting the door silently. Great. Detheron finally able to cast a spell and reeling from all the punches he was receiving, called on Frey for aid and a god damned LION appeared, tearing one of the Duergar to shreds and causing the other ones to rethink their plans. One turned invisible and two of them grabbed the druid and tried to knock him out by slamming him repeatedly against the back wall. Gwyn picked up his beer, looked at the plate mailed fighter, toasted him and sat down.
Arnog climbed onto the table and dove into the fight, taking another Duergar down. Coruth’tae wended his way across the bar to a quiet area and sat near a goblin tough who was watching the fight with a wary eye. The bar owner came out calling for the watch and pointed a staff at the ogre on the ground and the goblins beating him up – the staff shooting out a blast of webbing and ending that pocket of struggle. Detheron called on Frey again and summoned another animal – this time a wild boar! The boar and the lion tore into two more dark dwarves and cleared more of the area around Detheron free. The grey elf giving the bar owner a piercing look and remembering the crappy way he was treated earlier strode right up to the goblin and cast Fear in his face. The goblin screamed and dropped his web staff, running away. Meanwhile the two goblins who had been having the punching contest so long ago, were STILL going at it – neither party willing to concede defeat.
At this point the ogre and goblin watch came in and those still fighting were knocked on the head and their fighting came to a stop. Coruth’tae gave the web staff to Detheron (7 charges – whoo hoo!) and when the bar keep came to him looking for it, it was “no where to be found.” We decided to go to our room, which was a 12 x 12 cell with a broken 5-drawer dresser with only 3 drawers, a clay decanter for water, and a dozen stuffed sacks with hair, dirt, and fungus to be used as beds. There was a lock but we felt that it was just for show and wouldn’t keep out a drunken field mouse. With that we laid down and went to sleep, ending the meeting there – 2 miles underground in a goblin run inn after participating in a bar brawl.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)