It was only a few days before the ball that Lady Tia had invited us to. Druss and Crimson seemed to go somewhat stir crazy in the large town of Waterdeep, perhaps some strange form of agraphobia.
Not interested in balls, atleast not the kind where people dress up in fancy clothes and act civilized and dance, the finesse fighter signed on with the Adventurers Guild in the hopes of some manly action. Druss had come along with him thinking he might join also, however, when asked for his 5 gold joining fee he felt it was ‘a bit rich’ and declined the offer. Thus, leaving Crimson, the only member from our group as a guilded adventurer.
Still needing to have some purpose, Druss took it up0n himself to be my bodyguard at the upcoming ball.
We went to the tailer and I handed over 90 gold for a silk vampire outfit, it was a masquarade ball afterall. Druss wouldn’t get new clothes so the deal of his being my bodyguard was off, I didn’t want to be seen in such circles with an unkempt, unfashionable critter like that. I later sought out a ‘care package’ of manicure, perfumed bath and facial, those long days in the saddle and fighting for ones life, not to mention being bucked by ill tempered horses had taken a terrible toll on my compexion.
Crimson had some problem with a mercenary sword thief, finding that one of his prized Bastard swords was missing. Two deadly slashes and one thrust later the stunned mercenary lay in a crumpled heap begging for his life, “Don’t steal my sword!” Crimson spat. The Mercenary’s leaders show up. Crimson, knowing he couldn’t take all of them weighed up his options. The quick thinking fighter unstoppered one of his potions of healing, opened the mouth of the badly wounded merc and poured all of the contents down this sword stealing throat. The merc, happy to still be alive, apologises for stealing the weapon and hands it back. Impressed by the finesse fighters skill with a blade, and by his actions, the mercenary leader offers Crimson some work, to be part of his own personal guard. Crimson accepts.
As the time drew nearer to the ball, Druss purchased some extraordinarily tight leather pants and oils his upper body like some kind of muscle man, except that usually these kind of professionals shave their hairy chests first, not in this case however. Druss also pays a Dwarven carpenter to start work on fixing our home.
I now smell like lavender and cinnamon.
I hired an ornate carriage, easily the best in Waterdeep, for the evening. Sparkling white, it reflected the night lamps all over its silvery shell. Druss and Randall came along with me.
Our entrances made and some introductions over, we each split up. Druss decided to cruise the room. I think I hear “Go back to where you came from, horrible beast!” not long after I part company from the oily half orc. I try to put such embarrassment out of my mind and make the best of the situation. “I have an invitation”, I hear Druss drawl. Get out of my mind will you!
Giving up on making a good impression I head closer to Druss and all the fuss. “This cant be possible, someone of your disgusting magnitude cannot possibly have been invited to an event such as this!” I heard a nobleman say. Druss puffed himself up and glowered at the slight but arrogant man, and then balled his fists and wound back for a swing. The man seemed to shrink before our very eyes and slipped away into the crowd, never once turning his back on the hairy leather clad fighter.
The fuss over, for the time being, I decide to make my way to Lady Tia whom I felt a ‘connection’ with when we met. I find her in the crowd, it wasn’t difficult, she was a shining star in the heavens, an angel of beauty and properness…or something like that, poetry was the last thing on my mind at that point. “Oh Naiden, come ladies, meet Naiden the one who killed the dragon”, I think at that point I could have taken any one of them home for the night, my sights were set on one however. “Yes, yes its all in the reflexes” I gloated. They sighed like I was some kind of great hero.
Randall of coarse, never one to miss greasing the wheels of the upper clergy, sought out High Priest Naxxus of Tymora. Randall found the man and after introductions were formally made, set about selling himself, “I have been sent into the world to bring the words, the language, the knowledge and the culture of the church of Tymora to the west” he rambled. Then a loud and completely unbidden belch erupted from the pits of his stomach and bubbled out the corner of his mouth ruining all his good work. Pretending that someone had called him, he bid a hasty retreat and went to this imaginary saviour. On his way from embarrasment, he noticed a familiar tatoo on the arm of a man at the ball. It was a tatoo of a skull. His mind began to tick over, his eruption over the High priest already forgotten.
I regale Lady Tia and her blushing friends with a small impromptu song I made up on the spot. It turned out to be the best work of my career and brought tears to all who heard its perfectly lilting phrases.
Randall spies Druss and tells him about the man with the skull tatoo. Randall decides to question this suspicious looking character.
“Get away from me you bore”, replied the white haired man with the skull shaped tatoo after the cleric had tried not very successfully to wheedle some information out of him. The suspicious man then walks up the staircase and dissappears from view.
Randall managed to get my attention for a brief moment, he whispered to me that they had spotted a suspicious character sporting white hair and a skull tatoo. Not seeing a way out of my current company, and not really wanting to find one, I thought compromise was the best solution. It didn’t take much convincing to get an ‘architectural viewing’ of the upper bedrooms. At one point in one of the rooms I thought I saw a shadowy figure just outside of my field of vision. I walked over to the doorway to investigate. After walking to the door and not seeing anything out of place I returned to the waiting arms of my gracious host, Lady Tia.
Some time later I joined my friends downstairs again, my Vampire suit a little worse for wear but otherwise, looking as splendid as usual. Lady Tia went back to the party and I managed to get away for a moment. All three of us tried to get back up the stairs as we hadnt noticed the white haired man come back down. Being a little worn out from my recent antics with Lady Tia I didn’t manage to get past the guard in time and had to remain downstairs. I managed to keep his attention my acting a little drunk, “Ive had a little to mushhh ta dwinky, wereeee be the refwesher woom? Hic!”. Randall and Druss managed to get up the stairs unseen.
Randall and Druss enter one of the rooms. A figure enters, Randall hides but Druss panicked slightly and pretended to be a table. To Randalls surprise the figure leaves without a word, perhaps it thought Druss was some gross taxydermy.
Randall and Druss follow the figure however he appears to be rather fleet of foot and dissapears around a corner. Druss spots him again, it is the white haired man alright.
I happened to look outside, to my horror, my carriage seemed to be leaving without me. I run from the ballroom and run down the road after my carriage, without stopping, Randall reaches out with a meaty paw and hoists me into the speeding carriage. We loose sight of the fleeing man in his carriage briefly but then soon spot him again. We follow the carriage all over town and finally to a dock area, the carriage goes into a forboding building labelled ‘Delahunties Mercantiles’.
Frustrated that we didn’t catch him before he entered his home, Druss tries to argue with the man from the street. After a small pause a voice says, “come this way” and a door swings open.
We walk down a dark long corridor and up some rickety steps, we then find our way to a large dusty study. A figure sits in a large high backed chair. It speaks.
“You seem to be very curious”, it says, “Curiosity can be dangerous……why have you been following me?”
Druss blurts out he first thing that comes into his head, “I reckon you are one of those bastards what hang around with the dead and all!”
“And who are you” the figure states, turning to the hairy greasy half orc.
“A Dragonslayer!” Druss bellows tying his best to be intimidating, as intimidating as a greased up, thight leather pants wearing half orc can be anyway.
The white haired man stands and we think we hear the sound of a weapon being unsheathed at his side.
“We know your employer!”, states Druss
“My employer wishes to remain anonymous”, hisses the man.
We draw our weapons, and I begin a song of battle that will rally my friends into greater feats of heroism.
A battle ensues.
Randall uses his Command spell and the man falls to the ground. I steal his shiny looking rapier and try to finish him off. I sink my new rapier into his side but not deep enough to do the trick. Guards enter and slash at me and the others. Druss ignores the guards prods and lays down the finishing blow onto the prone white haired man.
I cast sleep and one of the guards falls to the ground. The second guard trips on his slumbering friend and I bury my rapier into his unhelmed head, the blade goes deeper than I expected and my guess is buries in his heart.
Druss wields his Sickle with such ferocity it slices through two enemies.
More guards approach, Druss grabs up a heavy oak table like it was a feather and uses it for a shield.
Randall sound blasts more approaching guards to death.
Druss bends down and loots a ring off the body of the white haired man. The bewitched creation speaks directly to the dull witted half orcs mind, “You have meddled too much in my affairs, you will all die!”
Druss decides its time to leave and gathers up the table shield again and burst through the door with it.
I spy some archers and cast sleep on them. One remains standing and Druss, ever the improviser, rips a hefty leg off the table and throws it with a great roar at the archer. The archer, stunned from what he had just witnessed, didn’t think to move out of the way of the wooden torpedo and pays the price, he slumps to the ground with a gaping wound in his skull.
We make good our escape before more endless guards spew out of hidden corners of the dusty old building.
Upon entering the carriage, we notice that our driver has been killed, an interesting dilemma presents itself. Before we have time to visit our thoughts on this conundrum three more evil doers step out from behind the carriage, probably the ones who murdered our driver. Seeing this as an opportunity to test out my shiney new rapier I thrust it deeply into the chest of one of the ruffians who presented himself as a convenient target, he collapses groping a spurting hole in his chest that was not there before, “seems to work just fine” I muse to myself. With that I toss my old Mithril rapier to Randall since my replacement seems to work even better. Druss dispatches the second attacker without a second thought as does Randall with his new Rapier.
Atlast, time to think. I feel that our biggest mistake hereafter was overthought however. Do we take the coach driver and coach away or leave them both here? Can they trace the hire of the coach to us? Do we have any proof that the guy we just killed was evil?
In the end after a heated debate we drive the carriage to what we consider to be a perfect location, and hotfoot it down the road while the drivers body is left slumped over the front of the carriage. No sooner do we exit the coach however as a voice seemingly out of no-where says, “You cant park that here!”. Randall attempts to diffuse the situation and almost drops us in the deep end however I smooth things over and we get back inside the coach and drive off, the guard none the wiser that its driver has been throttled by evil doers.
A little concerned now that we will be caught with our pants down so to speak we pick up the pace. Careening around a corner the wheel picks an inopportune moment to break. We come to a halt rather quickly and a thougth pops into my mind. “We should make it look like the wheel broke and the driver met his doom by falling amongst the horses”
I position the driver in a way that I think looks plausable for just that situation and trot off down the road pleased with myself. I then realise that no-one is following me. I run in the other direction where the others went.
Finally we arrive home and try and get a nights sleep.
We wake the following morning, not to the sounds of angry guards beating down our door to haul us off to prison but to the usual sounds of a busy city.
Crimson’s merchant caravan is attacked by highwaymen. He slays five of them and saves the merchant himself. He is gifted 100 gold by a greatful merchant. Some days later Goblins assail the caravan and again Crimson puts in a good showing. Rendall Harmon the merchant is most impressed with the finesse fighter. Crimson is away on this mission for a total of four weeks.
In the four weeks of peace we have from the continuous spouting of his prowess we find the time to visit Wunderstaff in the Magic Academy where he has been studying. We also have more fittings for our Dragon Armor.
Druss sold the ring and bracelet that he grabbed of the still warm body of the slain Necromancer sympathiser. Now we have enough to fix our home and we set about hiring the appropriate staff for just such a task.
I put some time into researching the unique Skull symbol we saw on the necromancer. It is a sigil that is of an evil bortherhood based in Skullport.
Finally the Dragon Armor is completed and I must say we look rather fetching in our matching bright red armor.
Some weeks later the repairs on our home are completed and have stables built also. We shop around for a good quality buttler who is trustworthy. We buy good quality furniture for the house including the ten bedrooms, stables, basement and cellar.
We decide after some discussion, not much discussion really…that we will leave the Master Necromancer to his own devices for the time being. We are sure its for the better.
Crimson finally arrives back and we swap stories of our exploits. Conversation running dry after not much time at all we decide to set forth for further adventures. For some reason we actually listen to a suggestion of Sander Wunderstaff’s that there is possibly some ruins located at the Spine of the World Mountains. Apparently they have been dubbed the Ruins of No Return, which left me wondering that if that were truly the case how would they have a name at all.
Adventrue ho!
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Our Third Adventure : by Naiden Swiftcaller - Adventurer and Musical Genius
A Bit of Shopping and fun.
Ebert had endebted himself as a manservant since we saved him.
Druss, missing his faithful hound, Scabby, decided to purchase another ready made friend. A Daggerdale Terrier was given the ingenious moniker of Scabby 2 by our chunky companion and simple companion.
Crimson looked high and low for a trade in deal on his old worn our horse. Finally he had purchased a strapping young heavy war horse.
Druss then proceeded to sell off all the weapons he had covetously stockpiled from the bodies of our enemies, afterall, it was a bit to carry around, even tho the load was distributed between his horse and his own broad shoulders.
Sick of Cheese for perhaps a lifetime, I purchased some trail rations and donated my Cheese to Druss, I doubt he had ever eaten something as cultured as cheese before, im still quite certain he doesn’t know where it comes from.
Crimson found it amusing to strut about town tyring to look impressive. I could have told him that none could do this as well as a Bard. Nevertheless, a merchant soon on his way to Waterdeep with various wares, obviously dumbstruck by the finesse fighters poncing about, thought him a masterful being and hired him and us on the spot for a Caravan job.
While waiting for everyone else to do their thing, Druss found some employment at a local farm doing tasks more suited to his intelligence and frame…hard labour. When Druss had mentioned this to me I must admit my first reaction was a little over the top “Work?! Nooooo!”. In return for his toils he received free board and lodging.
Discovering that our fame had a rather short shelf life and that we would have to start paying for accomodation again, I decided to put my considerable talents to work. I made a deal with the Inkeep that I would literally sing for my supper. On more than one occaision I brought the pudgy man to teers, “you can stay as long as ye like”.
Most nights I brought the house down, on the third night I must have drunk a little too much complimentry ale, that night I only earnt 3 gold in tips. Strangely the night I performed the least well, I had the opportunity to perform in another way, im sure the tavern wench had no complaints if the almost permanent smile locked on her face of post coital bliss was anything to go by.
Crimson booked into the same Inn with money that always seems to be there no matter how much he spends.
Some get life easier, and none more so than the Clergy. Randall was put up by his clerical brothers in the Temple.
That night before my bedroom adventure, a fight broke out, a small distance from the entrance to the Inn, Druss, always one who never leaves opportunity knocking burst through the doors upon the brawlers. One look at the huge manbeast and the brawlers forgot what their quarrel was and after some bowing back peddeling they were gone, much to he hulking fighters dissapointment.
Interested in some entertainment himself, Crimson looked about the Inn for some games of dexterity. He happened upon a game of daggers. He got two bullseys and collected his winnings with a all to sure of himself smile, “Its my warhorse parked out front”. “You have a good hand there my friend” stated the loosing stranger. “Its his warhouse parked out front” quipped the tubby cleric, Randall. The rematch was much closer and the stranger infact won the second round, Crimson managed to break even for the night.
Leaving so soon…
The next morning I woke to a knock on the door. I knew it was the Inkeeper, as he had personally delivered my breakfast from the first day I was there. This morning I would have to share my food it seemed, the lusty tavern wench had slept through, I hoped she would not get into too much trouble for missing her shift. She woke to the noise of the door opening and lazily rolled over to face the intruder. “That’s my wife!!!” bellowed the inkeep dropping my perfect breakfast on the dusty wooden floor. He lunged at me, “you wont leave alive!!” he frothed. “I just want to leave” I squealed, er, I mean I replied in the fashion of a manly man who was accustomed to such threats. Pugilism ensues and I manage to deprive the Sweaty inkeep of a front tooth. “Just leave!”. I didn’t wait for him to rethink the cease fire, I bundled up my gear and exited the inn in my nighty. “Lets get movin guys”
On the road again
One day out of town I found myself on watch duty with Crimson. There was a rustling in the bushes. Not one to over react, Crimson loosed an arrow into offending greenery. “Keep it down!” clacked the guards. Crimson decided to make a game of it as he was sure there was something alive in the shrubbery. “Hey Naiden, see if you can hit it!”. I threw a dagger but missed the entire bush, the dagger flew off into the night, “Shit, wont see that one again!”. Still suspicious of this piece of flora infront of us, we decided to investigate further. “Wait!” Aduna whispered commandingly. He then crept over to it with Crimson and myself. Investigation soon cleared the plant of all charges, there was nothing hiding in its midst. Aduna, still not letting go of the fact that something was amiss, headed over to the trees, we followed. Aduna dissappears. Crimson notices someone behind him and wheels around to face his attacker, it was Aduna. We then heard a blood curdling gurgle emanating from the central camping area.
Upon our return we found the bodies of two of the merchants guards, our ever alertness let us spy a dark figure heading for the other side of the wagon. “Behind the wagon!!” I wailed. Crimson and I tactically took each end of the wagon to prevent any escape of the assassin. Cornered the man in black with the black mask drew his bloodied rapier and dagger again. He made some kind of odd whistle obviously signalling some unknown assailant for assistance, or to unleash his hail of death upon us. We launch ourselves valiantly at the obviously skilled assassin. I miss, intentionally of coarse, setting up Crimson for his attack. Crimson sinks his blade into the man. At the same time Crossbow bolts find thud into Crimson and myself.
Awake now, Druss sends Scabby 2 into battle. The tenacious terrior locks its small jaws on the leg of the man in black, “dirty mutt!!” he howls in agony. Distracted for a moment this gives us the chance we needed, we both drive our point home. The man in black falls to the ground, Scabby 2 still attached.
Crimson puts his foot on the assassins throat “Cease fire or he dies”. He didn’t have to wait long for his answer and was soon sporting a bolt imbedded in his leg, not to exclude me from the non verbal conversation, I soon seemed to sprout another crossbow bolt related injury also.
Two more figures appeared, Crimson rolled defensively under the wagon, or so he likes to explain it, I call it running and hiding but hey. He dragged the first man in black with him, a meat shield I guess. They obviously didn’t care about their companion.
Randall casts his favourite spell, soundburst, an attacker yells in pain and falls out of the tree he was sniping from. See, we knew that some kind of foliage was involved somewhere along the line. While we had battled two more of the merchants guards had been killed.
I remembered my trusty magical Horn of Blasting and blew into it, the resultant shock wave blew a man out the back of the tree he had been sniping from.
Druss gets stabbed a couple of times by another darkly clad assailant, who then promptly trippes over Scabby 2, before Druss could capitalise upon this blunder, the assailant volted back onto his feet and plunged his dagger into Drusses exposed thigh.
Randall casts his Bane spell.
“Are you even here Sanda?!?, didn’t we piss you off ?!?” yelled Randall frustratedly as the wizard fumbled through his spellbook looking for the ‘Right’ spell for this particular situation, much like a master cook does when preparing for a royal feast.
Two tried to escape, Randall commanded one to sleep with the might of his god. I cast sleep on the other, he ran and ran, then his pace slowed and he yawned and said “I might just take my nap now before I escape” then fell to the ground snoring loudly. We truss the two of them up with enough rope to hold a…well a really big thing, you get the picture. Looking them over, we discover that they all sport a red bandanna tucked under their assassins garb.
“What are you doing? The Brotherhood wont stand for this?!” someone yelled from the blackness.
Ignoring his hollow threats we survey the damage.
Druss and Crimson discovered the Merchants bloodied body in the back of the caravan. They both bowed their heads solemly, then they both looked up in unison and yelled, “Were Rich!!!”
Randall spots yet another black clad figure, he tries to Command him to drop to the ground woth more godly migth but fails. The figure pulls back the bowstring and launches an arrow into Druss, interuppting his raptures of new found riches.
“No-one defies the brotherhood” the figure put in again.
Randall, offering the largest target soon found a dagger placed in his back from a well aimed, or not so well aimed throw. Druss spots the assassin and brings him down.
“You wont survive this, the scroll will be ours!” yells the wounded assassin. Not having a single clue as to what he was rabbiting on about I reply “we don’t want no scroll, what have you got on you?” and start looking through his robes for any hidden treasures. “He will get you” the assassin whispered menacingly, and all to confidently for someone who was about to die. His words caused us to fall silent for a split second and that is when we heard it. A great whooshing sound, like the sound of a bat flying overhead, a great big monster sized bat. A massive form passes over the camp site, “What the hell is that?” yells the usually quiet Sander.
Aduna admits, “I didn’t think they would find me this quick, take this scroll, get to Waterdeep”, Crimson takes the scroll. “Run, Run you fools!” Crimson yells, “Show us the meaning of haste”, he says to his warhorse.
Aduna draws his staff.
For the first time I felt an aura of fear unlike any I have ever felt. This must be what they call Dragonfear, for this was a Dragon! The feeling passed quickly, something in me let me keep my head and I could not help but bask in the raw power that the feeling of being in such close proximity to such a powerful and ancient creature as this. I gave Wunderstaff a lift as he had left his horse behind in his panic to put as much distance between him and the winged death that was hovering with great flapping leathery wings above the caravan.
“Give me the scroll!” commanded the dragon in a voice of such commanding power im not sure that I wouldn’t have obeyed if I possessed the scroll myself.
Even in full gallop away from the dragon, I could still hear the great intake of air it took as it prepared to blast fire down upon the caravan, and Aduna. I turn around in time to see the dragon belsh flame over the whole camp reducing it to ash in a matter of a second. At that same time I witessed Aduna the old monk jump what must have been some 20’ into the air with catlike grace avoiding the direct blast.
We all galloped on then Randall had a thought. His belt granted him monkly powers and he was not even of that profession. He wondered what power it might lend to Aduna if he was to wear it. We turned our horses around and rode back to what we assumed would be sure death, but we simply couldn’t let an old kindly monk die at the claws of a big red dragon while we escaped.
The scene when we got back was bedlam. More fire belshed from the dragons maw, the monk rolled away, the blast just missing him. Randall was first on the scene as he had been the first to turn around. He flung the belt to Aduna and told him to put it on. The dextrous old monk caught it and tied it on in one movement. He seemed to almost glow with power in an instant.
Spoiling for a fight, even if it was one that would see him cooked and eaten by a dragon, downed two mystery green potions in the hopes they would transform him into something even huge hulking red dragons feared. Even if this was not the case, he did vomit acid on the dragon which seemed to hurt it somewhat, I don’t think a half orc had ever blasted the dragon with its own breath weapon before, the dragon paused for a moment in shock.
We all pitch in and begin attacking the dragon with whatever means we have at out disposal. The dragon, over its shock of being attacked by an half orc / half black dragon, begins its attack with renewed vigor, probably from the pain it was in from the acid attack. Aduna, being obviously the most powerful of the adventureres is the intelligent beasts main target. The dragon drew in more breath and then feigned a breath attack but instead swiped with its left claw, the monk caught off balance is slashed across the chest, ribbons of blood burst from his unprotected body. The dragons right claw catches the monk again and this time the dragon grips the little man, it rips him apart like a rag doll. Aduna is no more.
With no alternative, I use my horn of blasting for the second time this day, something I know to be dangerous. A blast erupts from the horn and is a direct hit upon the great dragon. The beast falls to the ground dead. A great cheer erupts from my comrades. Then it happens, the horn begins rumbling in my hands then it makes a sound as if I had blown into it, knowing what is about to happen I throw it as far as I can, before it is very far from me it explodes in a great sonic boom in my face, the blast catapulting me into a nearby tree. All goes black for me.
Apparently while I was at deaths door, some of my friends thoughts turned to wealth and the acquisition thereof. Druss noticed a hopefull twinkle eminating from the dragons carcass. Coins and gems had become caught between its scales as it slept for a millennia on its gleaming bed of loot. Tantalising hints of the dragons actual horde that we would never find.
During this I was brought back to some semblance of consciousness, just in time to join in the great Dragon skinning operation. Apparently the idea was, we were going to get as many scales and other saleable portions of the beast, we were to have made, wondrous scale suits of dragon armor and hock the rest of the giblets to component hungry wizzards.
Barry the merchant and his caravan met up with us along the road.
Randall, myself and Sander Wunderstaff head to the city. The rest remain behind to guard the dragon carcass and continue farming components.
When we arrived at Waterdeep I regaled the patrons of an Inn there of my heroic deeds in felling the dragon and sacrificing myself in the process. It was truly one of my greatest performances.
We then had an audience with the Lord of Waterdeep. Lady Tia invited us to a ball that was being held in a few nights time. Right up my alley.
We manage to locate a team of experienced dragon skinners who will help us in breaking the dragon down into profitable portable portions. They set out immediately and before long, we are all reunited again.
As a reward for ridding the area of a particularly nasty Red dragon, we are given a two story house situated behind the city keep stables, down wind unfortunately. The smell of horse droppings permeates every room in the poor old building, in various states of disrepair.
We sold the carcass, apparently it may feature as an exhibit somewhere. Crimson, Druss, Randall and I ordered matching Dragonscale Plate armor sets.
Ebert had endebted himself as a manservant since we saved him.
Druss, missing his faithful hound, Scabby, decided to purchase another ready made friend. A Daggerdale Terrier was given the ingenious moniker of Scabby 2 by our chunky companion and simple companion.
Crimson looked high and low for a trade in deal on his old worn our horse. Finally he had purchased a strapping young heavy war horse.
Druss then proceeded to sell off all the weapons he had covetously stockpiled from the bodies of our enemies, afterall, it was a bit to carry around, even tho the load was distributed between his horse and his own broad shoulders.
Sick of Cheese for perhaps a lifetime, I purchased some trail rations and donated my Cheese to Druss, I doubt he had ever eaten something as cultured as cheese before, im still quite certain he doesn’t know where it comes from.
Crimson found it amusing to strut about town tyring to look impressive. I could have told him that none could do this as well as a Bard. Nevertheless, a merchant soon on his way to Waterdeep with various wares, obviously dumbstruck by the finesse fighters poncing about, thought him a masterful being and hired him and us on the spot for a Caravan job.
While waiting for everyone else to do their thing, Druss found some employment at a local farm doing tasks more suited to his intelligence and frame…hard labour. When Druss had mentioned this to me I must admit my first reaction was a little over the top “Work?! Nooooo!”. In return for his toils he received free board and lodging.
Discovering that our fame had a rather short shelf life and that we would have to start paying for accomodation again, I decided to put my considerable talents to work. I made a deal with the Inkeep that I would literally sing for my supper. On more than one occaision I brought the pudgy man to teers, “you can stay as long as ye like”.
Most nights I brought the house down, on the third night I must have drunk a little too much complimentry ale, that night I only earnt 3 gold in tips. Strangely the night I performed the least well, I had the opportunity to perform in another way, im sure the tavern wench had no complaints if the almost permanent smile locked on her face of post coital bliss was anything to go by.
Crimson booked into the same Inn with money that always seems to be there no matter how much he spends.
Some get life easier, and none more so than the Clergy. Randall was put up by his clerical brothers in the Temple.
That night before my bedroom adventure, a fight broke out, a small distance from the entrance to the Inn, Druss, always one who never leaves opportunity knocking burst through the doors upon the brawlers. One look at the huge manbeast and the brawlers forgot what their quarrel was and after some bowing back peddeling they were gone, much to he hulking fighters dissapointment.
Interested in some entertainment himself, Crimson looked about the Inn for some games of dexterity. He happened upon a game of daggers. He got two bullseys and collected his winnings with a all to sure of himself smile, “Its my warhorse parked out front”. “You have a good hand there my friend” stated the loosing stranger. “Its his warhouse parked out front” quipped the tubby cleric, Randall. The rematch was much closer and the stranger infact won the second round, Crimson managed to break even for the night.
Leaving so soon…
The next morning I woke to a knock on the door. I knew it was the Inkeeper, as he had personally delivered my breakfast from the first day I was there. This morning I would have to share my food it seemed, the lusty tavern wench had slept through, I hoped she would not get into too much trouble for missing her shift. She woke to the noise of the door opening and lazily rolled over to face the intruder. “That’s my wife!!!” bellowed the inkeep dropping my perfect breakfast on the dusty wooden floor. He lunged at me, “you wont leave alive!!” he frothed. “I just want to leave” I squealed, er, I mean I replied in the fashion of a manly man who was accustomed to such threats. Pugilism ensues and I manage to deprive the Sweaty inkeep of a front tooth. “Just leave!”. I didn’t wait for him to rethink the cease fire, I bundled up my gear and exited the inn in my nighty. “Lets get movin guys”
On the road again
One day out of town I found myself on watch duty with Crimson. There was a rustling in the bushes. Not one to over react, Crimson loosed an arrow into offending greenery. “Keep it down!” clacked the guards. Crimson decided to make a game of it as he was sure there was something alive in the shrubbery. “Hey Naiden, see if you can hit it!”. I threw a dagger but missed the entire bush, the dagger flew off into the night, “Shit, wont see that one again!”. Still suspicious of this piece of flora infront of us, we decided to investigate further. “Wait!” Aduna whispered commandingly. He then crept over to it with Crimson and myself. Investigation soon cleared the plant of all charges, there was nothing hiding in its midst. Aduna, still not letting go of the fact that something was amiss, headed over to the trees, we followed. Aduna dissappears. Crimson notices someone behind him and wheels around to face his attacker, it was Aduna. We then heard a blood curdling gurgle emanating from the central camping area.
Upon our return we found the bodies of two of the merchants guards, our ever alertness let us spy a dark figure heading for the other side of the wagon. “Behind the wagon!!” I wailed. Crimson and I tactically took each end of the wagon to prevent any escape of the assassin. Cornered the man in black with the black mask drew his bloodied rapier and dagger again. He made some kind of odd whistle obviously signalling some unknown assailant for assistance, or to unleash his hail of death upon us. We launch ourselves valiantly at the obviously skilled assassin. I miss, intentionally of coarse, setting up Crimson for his attack. Crimson sinks his blade into the man. At the same time Crossbow bolts find thud into Crimson and myself.
Awake now, Druss sends Scabby 2 into battle. The tenacious terrior locks its small jaws on the leg of the man in black, “dirty mutt!!” he howls in agony. Distracted for a moment this gives us the chance we needed, we both drive our point home. The man in black falls to the ground, Scabby 2 still attached.
Crimson puts his foot on the assassins throat “Cease fire or he dies”. He didn’t have to wait long for his answer and was soon sporting a bolt imbedded in his leg, not to exclude me from the non verbal conversation, I soon seemed to sprout another crossbow bolt related injury also.
Two more figures appeared, Crimson rolled defensively under the wagon, or so he likes to explain it, I call it running and hiding but hey. He dragged the first man in black with him, a meat shield I guess. They obviously didn’t care about their companion.
Randall casts his favourite spell, soundburst, an attacker yells in pain and falls out of the tree he was sniping from. See, we knew that some kind of foliage was involved somewhere along the line. While we had battled two more of the merchants guards had been killed.
I remembered my trusty magical Horn of Blasting and blew into it, the resultant shock wave blew a man out the back of the tree he had been sniping from.
Druss gets stabbed a couple of times by another darkly clad assailant, who then promptly trippes over Scabby 2, before Druss could capitalise upon this blunder, the assailant volted back onto his feet and plunged his dagger into Drusses exposed thigh.
Randall casts his Bane spell.
“Are you even here Sanda?!?, didn’t we piss you off ?!?” yelled Randall frustratedly as the wizard fumbled through his spellbook looking for the ‘Right’ spell for this particular situation, much like a master cook does when preparing for a royal feast.
Two tried to escape, Randall commanded one to sleep with the might of his god. I cast sleep on the other, he ran and ran, then his pace slowed and he yawned and said “I might just take my nap now before I escape” then fell to the ground snoring loudly. We truss the two of them up with enough rope to hold a…well a really big thing, you get the picture. Looking them over, we discover that they all sport a red bandanna tucked under their assassins garb.
“What are you doing? The Brotherhood wont stand for this?!” someone yelled from the blackness.
Ignoring his hollow threats we survey the damage.
Druss and Crimson discovered the Merchants bloodied body in the back of the caravan. They both bowed their heads solemly, then they both looked up in unison and yelled, “Were Rich!!!”
Randall spots yet another black clad figure, he tries to Command him to drop to the ground woth more godly migth but fails. The figure pulls back the bowstring and launches an arrow into Druss, interuppting his raptures of new found riches.
“No-one defies the brotherhood” the figure put in again.
Randall, offering the largest target soon found a dagger placed in his back from a well aimed, or not so well aimed throw. Druss spots the assassin and brings him down.
“You wont survive this, the scroll will be ours!” yells the wounded assassin. Not having a single clue as to what he was rabbiting on about I reply “we don’t want no scroll, what have you got on you?” and start looking through his robes for any hidden treasures. “He will get you” the assassin whispered menacingly, and all to confidently for someone who was about to die. His words caused us to fall silent for a split second and that is when we heard it. A great whooshing sound, like the sound of a bat flying overhead, a great big monster sized bat. A massive form passes over the camp site, “What the hell is that?” yells the usually quiet Sander.
Aduna admits, “I didn’t think they would find me this quick, take this scroll, get to Waterdeep”, Crimson takes the scroll. “Run, Run you fools!” Crimson yells, “Show us the meaning of haste”, he says to his warhorse.
Aduna draws his staff.
For the first time I felt an aura of fear unlike any I have ever felt. This must be what they call Dragonfear, for this was a Dragon! The feeling passed quickly, something in me let me keep my head and I could not help but bask in the raw power that the feeling of being in such close proximity to such a powerful and ancient creature as this. I gave Wunderstaff a lift as he had left his horse behind in his panic to put as much distance between him and the winged death that was hovering with great flapping leathery wings above the caravan.
“Give me the scroll!” commanded the dragon in a voice of such commanding power im not sure that I wouldn’t have obeyed if I possessed the scroll myself.
Even in full gallop away from the dragon, I could still hear the great intake of air it took as it prepared to blast fire down upon the caravan, and Aduna. I turn around in time to see the dragon belsh flame over the whole camp reducing it to ash in a matter of a second. At that same time I witessed Aduna the old monk jump what must have been some 20’ into the air with catlike grace avoiding the direct blast.
We all galloped on then Randall had a thought. His belt granted him monkly powers and he was not even of that profession. He wondered what power it might lend to Aduna if he was to wear it. We turned our horses around and rode back to what we assumed would be sure death, but we simply couldn’t let an old kindly monk die at the claws of a big red dragon while we escaped.
The scene when we got back was bedlam. More fire belshed from the dragons maw, the monk rolled away, the blast just missing him. Randall was first on the scene as he had been the first to turn around. He flung the belt to Aduna and told him to put it on. The dextrous old monk caught it and tied it on in one movement. He seemed to almost glow with power in an instant.
Spoiling for a fight, even if it was one that would see him cooked and eaten by a dragon, downed two mystery green potions in the hopes they would transform him into something even huge hulking red dragons feared. Even if this was not the case, he did vomit acid on the dragon which seemed to hurt it somewhat, I don’t think a half orc had ever blasted the dragon with its own breath weapon before, the dragon paused for a moment in shock.
We all pitch in and begin attacking the dragon with whatever means we have at out disposal. The dragon, over its shock of being attacked by an half orc / half black dragon, begins its attack with renewed vigor, probably from the pain it was in from the acid attack. Aduna, being obviously the most powerful of the adventureres is the intelligent beasts main target. The dragon drew in more breath and then feigned a breath attack but instead swiped with its left claw, the monk caught off balance is slashed across the chest, ribbons of blood burst from his unprotected body. The dragons right claw catches the monk again and this time the dragon grips the little man, it rips him apart like a rag doll. Aduna is no more.
With no alternative, I use my horn of blasting for the second time this day, something I know to be dangerous. A blast erupts from the horn and is a direct hit upon the great dragon. The beast falls to the ground dead. A great cheer erupts from my comrades. Then it happens, the horn begins rumbling in my hands then it makes a sound as if I had blown into it, knowing what is about to happen I throw it as far as I can, before it is very far from me it explodes in a great sonic boom in my face, the blast catapulting me into a nearby tree. All goes black for me.
Apparently while I was at deaths door, some of my friends thoughts turned to wealth and the acquisition thereof. Druss noticed a hopefull twinkle eminating from the dragons carcass. Coins and gems had become caught between its scales as it slept for a millennia on its gleaming bed of loot. Tantalising hints of the dragons actual horde that we would never find.
During this I was brought back to some semblance of consciousness, just in time to join in the great Dragon skinning operation. Apparently the idea was, we were going to get as many scales and other saleable portions of the beast, we were to have made, wondrous scale suits of dragon armor and hock the rest of the giblets to component hungry wizzards.
Barry the merchant and his caravan met up with us along the road.
Randall, myself and Sander Wunderstaff head to the city. The rest remain behind to guard the dragon carcass and continue farming components.
When we arrived at Waterdeep I regaled the patrons of an Inn there of my heroic deeds in felling the dragon and sacrificing myself in the process. It was truly one of my greatest performances.
We then had an audience with the Lord of Waterdeep. Lady Tia invited us to a ball that was being held in a few nights time. Right up my alley.
We manage to locate a team of experienced dragon skinners who will help us in breaking the dragon down into profitable portable portions. They set out immediately and before long, we are all reunited again.
As a reward for ridding the area of a particularly nasty Red dragon, we are given a two story house situated behind the city keep stables, down wind unfortunately. The smell of horse droppings permeates every room in the poor old building, in various states of disrepair.
We sold the carcass, apparently it may feature as an exhibit somewhere. Crimson, Druss, Randall and I ordered matching Dragonscale Plate armor sets.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Our Second Adventure : by Naiden Swiftcaller - Adventurer and Musical Genius
We felt that we had accomplished all we could in Rockyfalls. I know for a fact that all the women in town lusted after me, there were no hearts left to conquer, the thrill of the chase was gone, definitely time to move on.
We each said goodbye to our friends, some of us had different ways of saying goodbye, none of which I will go into here. Perhaps when I write my memoirs at a later date I may go into some gritty details.
I loaded up a Round of Cheese onto Saggy the Draughthorse and was about to set off. I didn’t feel right on Saggy tho, someone of my stature and grace shouldn’t be atop a scruffy old mare. So I convinced my friend Druss to swap with me his new horse, a fine riding horse I named Swiftcanter.
We waved our final waves of goodbye and were off. Not before we each received special gifts from our parents and loved ones. I’m sure I will work out what to do with this old horn at some point. I certainly worked out what to do with the other one I had, o that’s right, save it for the memoirs.
Not far out of town Swiftcanter decided that she didn’t want anyone riding her at that moment and bucked me off. I hit the earth hard but nothing broken, thank the gods. It was at that moment that an opportunistic snake decided to make me his meal. Good thing for me my friends were already hacking into him before I had regained my composure, but I did manage to get in a hit of revenge upon the creature before it yielded to our attacks.
Along the path we found that we had to cross a river. After our last adventure we were somewhat concerned with the idea of crossing more running water. From recent history we knew that a god had died in this river merely a few years back. The river flowed black upon the site which added to our concerns. Crimson decided to throw caution (and good sense) to the wind and plunge into the dark depths of the magical flow. He resurfaced a couple of times then we saw no more of him.
We managed to cross after some thought and planning and a very long rope and a good swim by Druss. We scoured the banks of the other side of the river looking for our companion. We came upon a small wooden hut and to our relief found our friend there casually chatting away to an old couple.
Back on our horses and thrown again we were off on our journey again. Two things plagued me, firstly I was sick of getting thrown from this beast, I mean what was its problem? Secondly, a cheese round to yourself is too just much cheese. I doubt I will ever shit again.
Along the track some more we happened upon a sleeping Ogre. Crimson, almost dry from his expedition to the depths of the dead god’s river decided to sneak up on the creature, unfortunately fate had placed a rather large twig in his way and with a loud crack at the worst possible moment the Ogre was awake. From then on all planning went out he window and a frenzy of weaponry and blood enveloped the drowsy giant.
In the distance later on that day we noticed some black smoke. Following this we happened upon a camp fire. We decided to use this as our own camp rather than making one ourselves. All was going well, we were asleep and Wunderstaff was on watch. Then uncontrollable waif like screaming erupted around us rudely waking us from our much needed rest. Wunderstaff had spied a spider crawl into his backpack. I killed the terror and we went back to sleep.
Back on our journey to greatness I was thrown yet again but this time a casualty, my ankle. From my earthy seat I heard the yells of what could have been bandits accosting someone. No time for pain, someone needed our help, my help.
Over the hill we could see eight men squaring off against our approach. In the middle is an old man, he seemed to fit the description that the old couple had given of a stranger who passed his way recently. He was obviously the target of their interest, but not now.
The ringleader spoke first.
“My name be Rangot and your Toll be ten gold”
I decided to put an end to this tomfoolery; I hoisted my new horn and bellowed through it.
“Cease and desist, put down your weapons!”
The reaction I received didn’t match my expectations. They attacked.
Randall cast a spell of Bane upon the leader.
Druss in a show of expert marksmanship shot the leader in the head.
I decided to test out my horn and blew into it; a blasting wave hit the bandits full on. The resultant shockwave injured the one closest badly; the others seemed to be grasping at their ears.
I drew my rapier as the rest approached. I will put an end to these curs myself if I have to.
My first thrust went straight through one felling him quickly.
In a flashy manner I was well jealous of, Crimson felled two of the blighters with a flourish of his twin blades.
“You’ll never take money from innocents again!” intoned Druss as he pushed his arrow deeper into the bandit leader ending his short but evil reign on the highway.
The old man thanked us but said “Should I have paid, they may well have allowed me to continue unmolested; I am a humble servant of Oghma you know”
Crimson’s reply was not really directed as a response to our new acquaintance “If you will excuse me, I will just loot these bodies”
Then like ravenous she-wolves Crimson and Druss descended upon the bodies of the highwaymen looking for spoils of their brief encounter. An amulet was found upon the arrow headed leader.
We were now right in the centre of the Troll Hills, a place I never suspected I would find myself yet here I was. The old monk, Aduna told of a tale about a crypt in the Troll Hills. I wished then and there that he hadn’t said that. As it turned out we never went there anyway so my concerns were for nought.
Crimson changed once we were in Troll territory. He seemed nervous. He said that something was following him. Ridiculous I thought. After a day of his ramblings and shifty eyed behaviour he slipped even further into his neuroses. He had to set a trap for a Troll he said had been following him for over a day. He put pillows in his tent and fluffed them up under his bedding to make it look like he was still sleeping there. I said it was probably squirrels, huge troll squirrels I taunted much to his chagrin. He then made me take second watch.
I couldn’t put my finger on it but I then must have slipped into his neuroses because I had the distinct feeling that I too was being watched. I guess its alike when someone starts talking about lice, you start to scratch, right? Then my heart leapt. A loud bestial roar echoed in my ears made by something that was right upon me. I screamed thinking my life was forfeit. Apparently it was Crimson’s little joke. I think someone should teach him what a joke is some day.
It was then time for Druss to do his share of the night watch. He too thought he heard a noise. In typical Druss style however, he took an oil bomb from his belt, lit it and hefted it into the rustling thicket. To my amazement a flaming troll leapt from its cover. I decided to use my crossbow for this particular enemy. I pulled back the lever and somehow managed to cut my finger. I dropped the crossbow and kicked it while sucking my injured hand. Another oil bomb, this time caught the troll square in the chest. It had the effect of scaring the creature in my and Randall’s direction, Druss running hot on its heels. The beast spun around with bestial efficiency and slashed Druss across the face with its clawed hand. The suddenness of it all caught the hefty fighter off guard and he fell. The troll bit down and came up with grass; it had missed its target by inches to Druss’s relief. I drew my rapier and thrust it into the green skinned monster. As a reaction to this sudden and unexpected pain it backhanded Druss and Crimson who were closer. It then lunged at me and sunk its needle like teeth into me. Druss took his handy scythe to the still flaming creature. Crimson caused some needed distraction by waving his blades about but generally missing his mark. Two attacks hit however and this hurt the beast intensely. Randall, thinking that Oil was a good way to go from the attacks prior uncapped his bottle, promptly fumbled with it and poured the contents down his front. Druss was clawed yet again and blood now streamed down his face from the wickedly deep cuts in his cheek and forehead. Blinking the blood from his eyes he doggedly continued his onslaught. The creature turned its attention to Crimson who decisively made a defensive roll and escaped the claws of the angry and hurt troll. Randall seemed to present himself as a target to the Troll who was looking for some payback. It lunged at him with a gurgling howl. Randall dodged and shrunk away from the danger, “Not in the face!!” he whimpered. Everyone starting to feel like they had the upper hand of the battle now, one liners erupted from us, “Get the point”, and something about getting the sharp end of a stick and other beauties capped off the eventual doom of the shrub sneak troll. Crimson’s new blade, a present upon his departure from Rockyfalls, started to quiver. He let it go and it flew through the air and sliced cleanly into the troll’s neck. The blood hungry weapon then falls to the ground following the Troll. “Quick, douse it in oil, add some kindling and wood” was the cry. Crimson and Druss grossly filled up their empty vials with the blood of the deceased and soon to be crispy troll. When blood ceased to flow, they then squeezed it out of the troll’s foot. I had to turn away.
In the Lizard Marsh, neuroses still under full swing, particularly now that the power of thought had brought a bush hiding troll into being, Druss thought it time to be tricky. Gathering wood and twigs he made a huge bonfire. He then made a smaller one a few yards away. “This is the one we will use, they will be attracted to the bigger one!” he stated triumphantly.
Later night wolves of all shapes and sizes were indeed attracted to the towering inferno that was the larger of the bonfires. Druss had outsmarted himself.
I decided to climb a tree so as not to be disturbed from weaving the life saving magic I the mere sound of music from my mandolin makes when I and only I play it. Arrows flew and Randall cast some sort of sonic burst spell to drive the hungry animals off. I jump down from my tree haven with a triumphant leap. Once again, not content to leave any bodies be, Druss and Crimson skin the dead wolves. They fashion crude and soon to be stinky wolf head cloaks. The “Wolf Brothers” are born. It is night.
The next day is spent travelling without incident. Perhaps news of our greatness has spread to the denizens of this place. We are on the Plains of the Sword Coast. By evening a road is in sight, as is a merchant caravan.
Being the friendly group that we are we decide to introduce ourselves and find out if our services are required. The friendly merchant, who introduces himself as Ebin takes us in under his camp fire. He offers us a pull on his Pappagapagus grass pipe which the braver among us accept, Druss and I. A general feeling of euphoria and light-headedness fills our minds. It was soon after that our gracious host challenged me to a game of dice. I used my considerable dexterity to win a round or two but it seems that my opponent has no small skill in deceit himself, after 4 rounds I have lost 5 Platinum pieces. Randal decided to win back my honour and challenged Ebin to double or nothing. A challenge he couldn’t resist it seems. Ebin cheated twice and was twice noticed by the astute cleric. Ebin reached out for the winnings anyway, not perturbed by his being caught.
“I didn’t cheat, tell them Ebert!” pleaded Ebin.
Silence
“Sorry he’s mute” Ebin replied, forgetting that his brother was disabled for a minute.
“Leave at once!” Ebin said angry that his deception had been discovered and that his mute brother didn’t speak in his defence.
Randall took the winnings.
We decided to give the angry merchant some space, we camped less than 30’ away. Far away enough to be considered ‘not there’, but close enough to be an annoyance. I played my mandolin quite violently just to be a further pest to the would-be thieving merchant.
Later in the night Druss decided to launch his own little expedition into the pockets and packages of Randall’s belongings. Randall noticed his attempt and promptly imbedded a fat fist in the mouth of the unsuspecting but deserving recipient. The punch was all the more potent because Randall used the powers of his present, the belt around his waist.
“I thought you were that thieving son of a bitch over there!” bleated the cleric after realising who it was that he unleashed his magical fury upon.
“Why you!”, replied the merchant who had been observing and he hefted a small rock at the cleric which hit him in the head.
We held vigilant watches that night. Early morning came about and it was on my watch, I noticed that the sun was coming up over the horizon, that’s when I also noticed the shadow behind me getting larger and larger. I dodge and a blade narrowly misses my back. It appears that Ebert is trying to kill me the cheeky devil. A rumble erupts from his throat, I suspect it would have been a growl if it had a voice box to go with it. He levelled his head at me and tried to push me into our dwindling campfire. I dodged the attack and attempted to have him end up where he intended me to be but failed in my attempt. He pulled out a dagger while I grappled with him and stuck it into my waist. Randall, empowered by his magical belt attacked the intruder, hitting him on the head. The force was such that it momentarily blinded the man and he shook his head to try and recover his sight. Druss was then upon him and pointed his sword at the mutes throat.
Emergency dealt with, Crimson decides to check the caravan for its owner and the one who sent the assassin. Poking his head inside he is surprised by the concealed merchant and gets a nasty sword wound in his side to show for it.
“That’ll learn you thieves!” rasped the incensed merchant. “Unknown to you, you have been poisoned, you will give me all I lost if you want the antidote!”
Not wishing to bargain Crimson decides to find the antidote himself and attacks for the kill. A flurry of blows later and the merchant lies mortally wounded.
He still manages a laugh, “the antidote is in Daggerford”
By this time we had all run up to the kafuffle.
“You cheated me first!” the merchant spat.
“You cheated me better” I said, still annoyed that I had lost.
“He’s lying there is no poison” I say to Crimson, suspecting that the untruthful merchant couldn’t lie straight in bed.
“If I let you go can I trust you?” uttered Druss, the mute nodded. Druss untied the would be assassin.
Crimson starts to feel a terrible pain in his stomach, it seems that the poison is real and is setting about proving itself so. With this knowledge, a bargain is struck that in return for his lost 5 Platinum pieces we were to accompany him to Daggerford and take possession of the antidote. We stipulate that no money is to change hands until the antidote is in our hands or more correctly, down Crimson’s throat and he begins to look a rosier shade of pale. Throughout the day we notice that the merchants ‘mortal’ wounds seem to heal up pretty good much to our dismay. Without anyone else’s knowledge, the merchant and Druss have a secret conversation, the merchant tried to buy Druss’s loyalty but on this occasion our good friend stood strong and declined the offer, I will always wonder if the proper amount of sweetener had been added to the deal if his loyalty would have wavered.
After what seemed an eternity following the merchant wagon we finally arrive in Daggerford. We are led through the city gates and up to an ominous looking warehouse, we are led inside the warehouse and workers begin to close the doors behind us. Randall blocks them from closing the doors, “no ya don’t!” Suddenly other workers spill out of the woodwork, attacking with crossbows. A lucky bolt finds its way into my leg. We run out into the street. A quick escape is formulated; we are to run to the Temple of Tymora, the goddess of luck, Randall’s god.
The priest inside the temple immediately recognises Randall’s garb and holy symbol as one of his own flock. “Were you attacked by bandits my children?”
“Worse! Merchants!!” blurted Druss.
Crimson, mindful of his plight even if his friends have temporarily forgotten says “Can you expunge this poison?”
After some looking over him and some quick prayers the priest says “You are indeed infected by a most foul poison” much to Crimson’s dismay.
“Then let us name the nature of the donation” mentioned Aduna. 90 Gold was agreed upon and Aduna wordlessly paid the fee himself.
We decided then to avoid any entanglements with the local guards and leave immediately for Waterdeep. On our way out the rear entrance we overheard some heavy footsteps, then a voice boomed in an official tone, “I believe we are looking for some bandits, a half orc, a rotund man, another man and a woman dressed as a man” A gasp from myself and Randall almost gave away our position. How rude.
We decided to make a break for it but the guards storm through, the priest must have told them where we were. “You! Halt!”
It was at this time that we noticed that our elderly monk companion had disappeared. I held up my fist and yelled “Arrest this!” in as deep a voice as I could muster, woman dressed as a man, I’m never going to hear the end of this. I vaulted onto the saddle and kicked Swiftcanter into a gallop. Several guards levelled their crossbows at me, I didn’t care, I felt the wind on my face, my hair blowing in the wind, I felt free, I felt…alone. It appeared that my friends had decided against flight and had not followed my lead. I turned the horse around and walked back to them with a growing feeling of embarrassment and annoyance. As the guards took us away the Tymorian clerics came to the front door and muttered “We will help in any way that we can, we will see justice done”, I wasn’t calmed by this, we didn’t even know them.
We were thrown into the city watchtower prison. No furniture to make things comfortable, just some straw. The night is spent in relative silence. We woke to the sounds of keys jingling and locks clicking open, the guards are back and they have brought the merchant with them. “It is very bad how you murdered my poor assistant Ebert!” berated the merchant. Quietly he whispers, “I have a job for you which might just see you out of this mess, I need some goods ‘procured’ from a caravan that is bound for here in a day or so, I offer you the reasonable price of lets say, for free!” We grudgingly accept his offer and I wonder where I would be now if I hadn’t rolled that first dice back at his camp.
“Now I need to instigate an insurance policy” grated the merchant. Guards’ shoot all of us save for Crimson. We didn’t have to ask if the bolts were poisoned. Druss seemed to feel no effects from the poison but didn’t let this on to the gloating merchant. We learn from the merchant that Ebert is to be put to death; he is currently in stockades being hit with rotten vegetables. Apparently the merchant had passed Ebert off as someone else, so that we could still be put to death for his murder. We are then let go.
Randall and I go to the temple in the hopes of getting healed. Randall pays for my healing and his brethren heal him for free being one of the flock and all.
I had a conversation with one of the guards and managed to persuade him to give us an audience with The Lord Justice. Randall was let inside being one of the cloth but I had to wait outside. With some difficulty the portly cleric ended up in the kitchen and other various areas of the building by mistake. He runs into a guard and is pointed in the right direction.
With none of the eloquence that I possess, the Cleric blurted out his story to the Lord and his Head Guard, a strange moustached man. “I sense an air of truth from this young portly man” stated the Lord after much deliberation. “If you fail to produce the truth you speak of you will be executed also” he added casually. “You have two days”.
We headed out to intercept the caravan with the Red Fox emblem as we had been instructed to by the insidious merchant. Apparently this merchant was a rich trader from Candlekeep and had a shipment of silver in his caravan.
We ride out and from no-where the old Monk finds his way back to us again. If only we could have disappeared off to where he did we would have saved ourselves a whole mess of trouble. Twenty miles south of Daggerford we find the caravan, it is not late into the evening. We hail the wary merchant caravan and speak with the merchant himself. After some convincing he agrees to our plan.
Druss rides back with the messenger but does not go into town so as to avoid raising any unwanted suspicion.
The caravan is driven to Daggerford. It is driven into the warehouse and the exchange of antidote made. Crimson drinks it just to keep up the act.
“We killed the owner just like you said, he is buried outside of town”, Crimson lied.
“Where are the rest of our antidotes?”
“You are in no position to bargain anymore!” ranted the merchant.
A worker of the merchant yells out suddenly, “Guards outside!”
“Betrayed!” yells the merchant.
All hell breaks loose.
I blasted the beams of a catwalk bringing down four crossbowmen that were perched conveniently up there ready to shoot. One falls awkwardly on his head breaking his neck with a satisfying but sickening crack. The other three are badly injured and will be out of this fight. Crimson attacks the merchant as usual going for the glory himself. The battle is long but goes in our favour, we take down as many of the escaping guards that were under the merchants employ as we can. Randal chases down an escaping bandit on his mule. The terrified bandit quickly gives himself up for fear of being trampled by the mule or worse, the cleric sitting atop the bowed creature.
The town guards enter with the merchant of the Red Fox trading coster. We have won the day. After another conversation with Lord Justice he concedes that we were telling the truth. Ebert is freed after we personally vouch for him. We are rewarded for our troubles 100 Gold each.
We now plan our journey to Waterdeep. Druss still going on about having a Sythe forged. He is informed that a man called Bortmund in Waterdeep can forge such a weapon. A letter of recommendation is also provided; I wonder what this will afford us?
We each said goodbye to our friends, some of us had different ways of saying goodbye, none of which I will go into here. Perhaps when I write my memoirs at a later date I may go into some gritty details.
I loaded up a Round of Cheese onto Saggy the Draughthorse and was about to set off. I didn’t feel right on Saggy tho, someone of my stature and grace shouldn’t be atop a scruffy old mare. So I convinced my friend Druss to swap with me his new horse, a fine riding horse I named Swiftcanter.
We waved our final waves of goodbye and were off. Not before we each received special gifts from our parents and loved ones. I’m sure I will work out what to do with this old horn at some point. I certainly worked out what to do with the other one I had, o that’s right, save it for the memoirs.
Not far out of town Swiftcanter decided that she didn’t want anyone riding her at that moment and bucked me off. I hit the earth hard but nothing broken, thank the gods. It was at that moment that an opportunistic snake decided to make me his meal. Good thing for me my friends were already hacking into him before I had regained my composure, but I did manage to get in a hit of revenge upon the creature before it yielded to our attacks.
Along the path we found that we had to cross a river. After our last adventure we were somewhat concerned with the idea of crossing more running water. From recent history we knew that a god had died in this river merely a few years back. The river flowed black upon the site which added to our concerns. Crimson decided to throw caution (and good sense) to the wind and plunge into the dark depths of the magical flow. He resurfaced a couple of times then we saw no more of him.
We managed to cross after some thought and planning and a very long rope and a good swim by Druss. We scoured the banks of the other side of the river looking for our companion. We came upon a small wooden hut and to our relief found our friend there casually chatting away to an old couple.
Back on our horses and thrown again we were off on our journey again. Two things plagued me, firstly I was sick of getting thrown from this beast, I mean what was its problem? Secondly, a cheese round to yourself is too just much cheese. I doubt I will ever shit again.
Along the track some more we happened upon a sleeping Ogre. Crimson, almost dry from his expedition to the depths of the dead god’s river decided to sneak up on the creature, unfortunately fate had placed a rather large twig in his way and with a loud crack at the worst possible moment the Ogre was awake. From then on all planning went out he window and a frenzy of weaponry and blood enveloped the drowsy giant.
In the distance later on that day we noticed some black smoke. Following this we happened upon a camp fire. We decided to use this as our own camp rather than making one ourselves. All was going well, we were asleep and Wunderstaff was on watch. Then uncontrollable waif like screaming erupted around us rudely waking us from our much needed rest. Wunderstaff had spied a spider crawl into his backpack. I killed the terror and we went back to sleep.
Back on our journey to greatness I was thrown yet again but this time a casualty, my ankle. From my earthy seat I heard the yells of what could have been bandits accosting someone. No time for pain, someone needed our help, my help.
Over the hill we could see eight men squaring off against our approach. In the middle is an old man, he seemed to fit the description that the old couple had given of a stranger who passed his way recently. He was obviously the target of their interest, but not now.
The ringleader spoke first.
“My name be Rangot and your Toll be ten gold”
I decided to put an end to this tomfoolery; I hoisted my new horn and bellowed through it.
“Cease and desist, put down your weapons!”
The reaction I received didn’t match my expectations. They attacked.
Randall cast a spell of Bane upon the leader.
Druss in a show of expert marksmanship shot the leader in the head.
I decided to test out my horn and blew into it; a blasting wave hit the bandits full on. The resultant shockwave injured the one closest badly; the others seemed to be grasping at their ears.
I drew my rapier as the rest approached. I will put an end to these curs myself if I have to.
My first thrust went straight through one felling him quickly.
In a flashy manner I was well jealous of, Crimson felled two of the blighters with a flourish of his twin blades.
“You’ll never take money from innocents again!” intoned Druss as he pushed his arrow deeper into the bandit leader ending his short but evil reign on the highway.
The old man thanked us but said “Should I have paid, they may well have allowed me to continue unmolested; I am a humble servant of Oghma you know”
Crimson’s reply was not really directed as a response to our new acquaintance “If you will excuse me, I will just loot these bodies”
Then like ravenous she-wolves Crimson and Druss descended upon the bodies of the highwaymen looking for spoils of their brief encounter. An amulet was found upon the arrow headed leader.
We were now right in the centre of the Troll Hills, a place I never suspected I would find myself yet here I was. The old monk, Aduna told of a tale about a crypt in the Troll Hills. I wished then and there that he hadn’t said that. As it turned out we never went there anyway so my concerns were for nought.
Crimson changed once we were in Troll territory. He seemed nervous. He said that something was following him. Ridiculous I thought. After a day of his ramblings and shifty eyed behaviour he slipped even further into his neuroses. He had to set a trap for a Troll he said had been following him for over a day. He put pillows in his tent and fluffed them up under his bedding to make it look like he was still sleeping there. I said it was probably squirrels, huge troll squirrels I taunted much to his chagrin. He then made me take second watch.
I couldn’t put my finger on it but I then must have slipped into his neuroses because I had the distinct feeling that I too was being watched. I guess its alike when someone starts talking about lice, you start to scratch, right? Then my heart leapt. A loud bestial roar echoed in my ears made by something that was right upon me. I screamed thinking my life was forfeit. Apparently it was Crimson’s little joke. I think someone should teach him what a joke is some day.
It was then time for Druss to do his share of the night watch. He too thought he heard a noise. In typical Druss style however, he took an oil bomb from his belt, lit it and hefted it into the rustling thicket. To my amazement a flaming troll leapt from its cover. I decided to use my crossbow for this particular enemy. I pulled back the lever and somehow managed to cut my finger. I dropped the crossbow and kicked it while sucking my injured hand. Another oil bomb, this time caught the troll square in the chest. It had the effect of scaring the creature in my and Randall’s direction, Druss running hot on its heels. The beast spun around with bestial efficiency and slashed Druss across the face with its clawed hand. The suddenness of it all caught the hefty fighter off guard and he fell. The troll bit down and came up with grass; it had missed its target by inches to Druss’s relief. I drew my rapier and thrust it into the green skinned monster. As a reaction to this sudden and unexpected pain it backhanded Druss and Crimson who were closer. It then lunged at me and sunk its needle like teeth into me. Druss took his handy scythe to the still flaming creature. Crimson caused some needed distraction by waving his blades about but generally missing his mark. Two attacks hit however and this hurt the beast intensely. Randall, thinking that Oil was a good way to go from the attacks prior uncapped his bottle, promptly fumbled with it and poured the contents down his front. Druss was clawed yet again and blood now streamed down his face from the wickedly deep cuts in his cheek and forehead. Blinking the blood from his eyes he doggedly continued his onslaught. The creature turned its attention to Crimson who decisively made a defensive roll and escaped the claws of the angry and hurt troll. Randall seemed to present himself as a target to the Troll who was looking for some payback. It lunged at him with a gurgling howl. Randall dodged and shrunk away from the danger, “Not in the face!!” he whimpered. Everyone starting to feel like they had the upper hand of the battle now, one liners erupted from us, “Get the point”, and something about getting the sharp end of a stick and other beauties capped off the eventual doom of the shrub sneak troll. Crimson’s new blade, a present upon his departure from Rockyfalls, started to quiver. He let it go and it flew through the air and sliced cleanly into the troll’s neck. The blood hungry weapon then falls to the ground following the Troll. “Quick, douse it in oil, add some kindling and wood” was the cry. Crimson and Druss grossly filled up their empty vials with the blood of the deceased and soon to be crispy troll. When blood ceased to flow, they then squeezed it out of the troll’s foot. I had to turn away.
In the Lizard Marsh, neuroses still under full swing, particularly now that the power of thought had brought a bush hiding troll into being, Druss thought it time to be tricky. Gathering wood and twigs he made a huge bonfire. He then made a smaller one a few yards away. “This is the one we will use, they will be attracted to the bigger one!” he stated triumphantly.
Later night wolves of all shapes and sizes were indeed attracted to the towering inferno that was the larger of the bonfires. Druss had outsmarted himself.
I decided to climb a tree so as not to be disturbed from weaving the life saving magic I the mere sound of music from my mandolin makes when I and only I play it. Arrows flew and Randall cast some sort of sonic burst spell to drive the hungry animals off. I jump down from my tree haven with a triumphant leap. Once again, not content to leave any bodies be, Druss and Crimson skin the dead wolves. They fashion crude and soon to be stinky wolf head cloaks. The “Wolf Brothers” are born. It is night.
The next day is spent travelling without incident. Perhaps news of our greatness has spread to the denizens of this place. We are on the Plains of the Sword Coast. By evening a road is in sight, as is a merchant caravan.
Being the friendly group that we are we decide to introduce ourselves and find out if our services are required. The friendly merchant, who introduces himself as Ebin takes us in under his camp fire. He offers us a pull on his Pappagapagus grass pipe which the braver among us accept, Druss and I. A general feeling of euphoria and light-headedness fills our minds. It was soon after that our gracious host challenged me to a game of dice. I used my considerable dexterity to win a round or two but it seems that my opponent has no small skill in deceit himself, after 4 rounds I have lost 5 Platinum pieces. Randal decided to win back my honour and challenged Ebin to double or nothing. A challenge he couldn’t resist it seems. Ebin cheated twice and was twice noticed by the astute cleric. Ebin reached out for the winnings anyway, not perturbed by his being caught.
“I didn’t cheat, tell them Ebert!” pleaded Ebin.
Silence
“Sorry he’s mute” Ebin replied, forgetting that his brother was disabled for a minute.
“Leave at once!” Ebin said angry that his deception had been discovered and that his mute brother didn’t speak in his defence.
Randall took the winnings.
We decided to give the angry merchant some space, we camped less than 30’ away. Far away enough to be considered ‘not there’, but close enough to be an annoyance. I played my mandolin quite violently just to be a further pest to the would-be thieving merchant.
Later in the night Druss decided to launch his own little expedition into the pockets and packages of Randall’s belongings. Randall noticed his attempt and promptly imbedded a fat fist in the mouth of the unsuspecting but deserving recipient. The punch was all the more potent because Randall used the powers of his present, the belt around his waist.
“I thought you were that thieving son of a bitch over there!” bleated the cleric after realising who it was that he unleashed his magical fury upon.
“Why you!”, replied the merchant who had been observing and he hefted a small rock at the cleric which hit him in the head.
We held vigilant watches that night. Early morning came about and it was on my watch, I noticed that the sun was coming up over the horizon, that’s when I also noticed the shadow behind me getting larger and larger. I dodge and a blade narrowly misses my back. It appears that Ebert is trying to kill me the cheeky devil. A rumble erupts from his throat, I suspect it would have been a growl if it had a voice box to go with it. He levelled his head at me and tried to push me into our dwindling campfire. I dodged the attack and attempted to have him end up where he intended me to be but failed in my attempt. He pulled out a dagger while I grappled with him and stuck it into my waist. Randall, empowered by his magical belt attacked the intruder, hitting him on the head. The force was such that it momentarily blinded the man and he shook his head to try and recover his sight. Druss was then upon him and pointed his sword at the mutes throat.
Emergency dealt with, Crimson decides to check the caravan for its owner and the one who sent the assassin. Poking his head inside he is surprised by the concealed merchant and gets a nasty sword wound in his side to show for it.
“That’ll learn you thieves!” rasped the incensed merchant. “Unknown to you, you have been poisoned, you will give me all I lost if you want the antidote!”
Not wishing to bargain Crimson decides to find the antidote himself and attacks for the kill. A flurry of blows later and the merchant lies mortally wounded.
He still manages a laugh, “the antidote is in Daggerford”
By this time we had all run up to the kafuffle.
“You cheated me first!” the merchant spat.
“You cheated me better” I said, still annoyed that I had lost.
“He’s lying there is no poison” I say to Crimson, suspecting that the untruthful merchant couldn’t lie straight in bed.
“If I let you go can I trust you?” uttered Druss, the mute nodded. Druss untied the would be assassin.
Crimson starts to feel a terrible pain in his stomach, it seems that the poison is real and is setting about proving itself so. With this knowledge, a bargain is struck that in return for his lost 5 Platinum pieces we were to accompany him to Daggerford and take possession of the antidote. We stipulate that no money is to change hands until the antidote is in our hands or more correctly, down Crimson’s throat and he begins to look a rosier shade of pale. Throughout the day we notice that the merchants ‘mortal’ wounds seem to heal up pretty good much to our dismay. Without anyone else’s knowledge, the merchant and Druss have a secret conversation, the merchant tried to buy Druss’s loyalty but on this occasion our good friend stood strong and declined the offer, I will always wonder if the proper amount of sweetener had been added to the deal if his loyalty would have wavered.
After what seemed an eternity following the merchant wagon we finally arrive in Daggerford. We are led through the city gates and up to an ominous looking warehouse, we are led inside the warehouse and workers begin to close the doors behind us. Randall blocks them from closing the doors, “no ya don’t!” Suddenly other workers spill out of the woodwork, attacking with crossbows. A lucky bolt finds its way into my leg. We run out into the street. A quick escape is formulated; we are to run to the Temple of Tymora, the goddess of luck, Randall’s god.
The priest inside the temple immediately recognises Randall’s garb and holy symbol as one of his own flock. “Were you attacked by bandits my children?”
“Worse! Merchants!!” blurted Druss.
Crimson, mindful of his plight even if his friends have temporarily forgotten says “Can you expunge this poison?”
After some looking over him and some quick prayers the priest says “You are indeed infected by a most foul poison” much to Crimson’s dismay.
“Then let us name the nature of the donation” mentioned Aduna. 90 Gold was agreed upon and Aduna wordlessly paid the fee himself.
We decided then to avoid any entanglements with the local guards and leave immediately for Waterdeep. On our way out the rear entrance we overheard some heavy footsteps, then a voice boomed in an official tone, “I believe we are looking for some bandits, a half orc, a rotund man, another man and a woman dressed as a man” A gasp from myself and Randall almost gave away our position. How rude.
We decided to make a break for it but the guards storm through, the priest must have told them where we were. “You! Halt!”
It was at this time that we noticed that our elderly monk companion had disappeared. I held up my fist and yelled “Arrest this!” in as deep a voice as I could muster, woman dressed as a man, I’m never going to hear the end of this. I vaulted onto the saddle and kicked Swiftcanter into a gallop. Several guards levelled their crossbows at me, I didn’t care, I felt the wind on my face, my hair blowing in the wind, I felt free, I felt…alone. It appeared that my friends had decided against flight and had not followed my lead. I turned the horse around and walked back to them with a growing feeling of embarrassment and annoyance. As the guards took us away the Tymorian clerics came to the front door and muttered “We will help in any way that we can, we will see justice done”, I wasn’t calmed by this, we didn’t even know them.
We were thrown into the city watchtower prison. No furniture to make things comfortable, just some straw. The night is spent in relative silence. We woke to the sounds of keys jingling and locks clicking open, the guards are back and they have brought the merchant with them. “It is very bad how you murdered my poor assistant Ebert!” berated the merchant. Quietly he whispers, “I have a job for you which might just see you out of this mess, I need some goods ‘procured’ from a caravan that is bound for here in a day or so, I offer you the reasonable price of lets say, for free!” We grudgingly accept his offer and I wonder where I would be now if I hadn’t rolled that first dice back at his camp.
“Now I need to instigate an insurance policy” grated the merchant. Guards’ shoot all of us save for Crimson. We didn’t have to ask if the bolts were poisoned. Druss seemed to feel no effects from the poison but didn’t let this on to the gloating merchant. We learn from the merchant that Ebert is to be put to death; he is currently in stockades being hit with rotten vegetables. Apparently the merchant had passed Ebert off as someone else, so that we could still be put to death for his murder. We are then let go.
Randall and I go to the temple in the hopes of getting healed. Randall pays for my healing and his brethren heal him for free being one of the flock and all.
I had a conversation with one of the guards and managed to persuade him to give us an audience with The Lord Justice. Randall was let inside being one of the cloth but I had to wait outside. With some difficulty the portly cleric ended up in the kitchen and other various areas of the building by mistake. He runs into a guard and is pointed in the right direction.
With none of the eloquence that I possess, the Cleric blurted out his story to the Lord and his Head Guard, a strange moustached man. “I sense an air of truth from this young portly man” stated the Lord after much deliberation. “If you fail to produce the truth you speak of you will be executed also” he added casually. “You have two days”.
We headed out to intercept the caravan with the Red Fox emblem as we had been instructed to by the insidious merchant. Apparently this merchant was a rich trader from Candlekeep and had a shipment of silver in his caravan.
We ride out and from no-where the old Monk finds his way back to us again. If only we could have disappeared off to where he did we would have saved ourselves a whole mess of trouble. Twenty miles south of Daggerford we find the caravan, it is not late into the evening. We hail the wary merchant caravan and speak with the merchant himself. After some convincing he agrees to our plan.
Druss rides back with the messenger but does not go into town so as to avoid raising any unwanted suspicion.
The caravan is driven to Daggerford. It is driven into the warehouse and the exchange of antidote made. Crimson drinks it just to keep up the act.
“We killed the owner just like you said, he is buried outside of town”, Crimson lied.
“Where are the rest of our antidotes?”
“You are in no position to bargain anymore!” ranted the merchant.
A worker of the merchant yells out suddenly, “Guards outside!”
“Betrayed!” yells the merchant.
All hell breaks loose.
I blasted the beams of a catwalk bringing down four crossbowmen that were perched conveniently up there ready to shoot. One falls awkwardly on his head breaking his neck with a satisfying but sickening crack. The other three are badly injured and will be out of this fight. Crimson attacks the merchant as usual going for the glory himself. The battle is long but goes in our favour, we take down as many of the escaping guards that were under the merchants employ as we can. Randal chases down an escaping bandit on his mule. The terrified bandit quickly gives himself up for fear of being trampled by the mule or worse, the cleric sitting atop the bowed creature.
The town guards enter with the merchant of the Red Fox trading coster. We have won the day. After another conversation with Lord Justice he concedes that we were telling the truth. Ebert is freed after we personally vouch for him. We are rewarded for our troubles 100 Gold each.
We now plan our journey to Waterdeep. Druss still going on about having a Sythe forged. He is informed that a man called Bortmund in Waterdeep can forge such a weapon. A letter of recommendation is also provided; I wonder what this will afford us?
Monday, June 26, 2006
My First Adventure : by Naiden Swiftcaller - Adventurer and Musical Genius
It was almost closing time at our favourite haunt in Rockyfalls, The Inn of the Red Onion. Barmaids frantically serving last drinks to sozzled farmers encouraging them to drink up. My sensitive ears picked up the sounds of talking in hushed tones which naturally twinged at my curiosity. Walking over to the two men responsible I casually strummed a little tune that I had created to loosen the lips of any who heard. Being simple farmers it worked a treat. The two men told of how they had noticed the man usually responsible for lighting the streets at night was nowhere to be seen, and in his place another man had tried to take the job upon himself, however he was no master of the stilts required to light the lanterns high up on the street poles.
I rallied my companions although initially we forgot to include the wizard. Druss and Crimson found a stone with a skull on it under the bridge where the towns whineos usually sleep. Where were they tonight? Something was up.
My ever alert ears (you have to have good ears in my line of work) picked up the startled cry of a man back in town. Crimson and Druss seemed to have their own ideas and ran off after Druss's mangy dog, tramping through the woods after a barking dog like thundering dumb beasts that thunder through the woods, er thunderingly.
My brave self and the fat cleric Randall decided to head to danger rather than have a nice jaunt through the woods. It was not long before we came to a dingy alleyway. My keen senses picked up a handfull of men ahead. They were dragging an inert townsman. Never one to sleep on the job I immediately recognised some of the men as local ruffians, Alam, Subor and Garis. Garis seemed to be the ringleader. There were others but the darkness hid them from me for now.
Our plan, although im sure I could have taken them all down by myself. Was instead to follow them. Surely they had done this before, I mean what happened to the bridge dwellers? So follow we did. We almost gave away our posititon when Randall's girth scraped upon a discarded cowbell or something but we blended into the shadows just in time.
Following the men through the woods we were making good progress. Them without notice Randall decided to bump into my Mandolin and it strummed loudly. It must have been Randall because I was sneaking much to cautiosly for it to have been my fault. Two men broke off from the main party and came back to investigate. There was no - where to hide. I made my move. Strumming a little tune I had come up with a week or so ago, my genius inspired me to pretend I was making a little ditty up for an upcoming festival. The men approached. "What are you doing?" one blurted out in a most common tone. "Seeking inspiration for a song im making up for the festival" I replied. One of the men seemed to believe every word I said. The other seemed a little more cautious. "I dont believe ya", "Nonsense, hes just making up a song" replied the other. I knew that this was the right time to strike, I had my mighty rapier at the ready and I neatly inserted it into the disbelieving mas stomach. He reeled in agony. Randall helped to and we brought the two men to justice. I reminded Randall that we were not common thugs and made sure he healed them so that they wouldnt die. Then we tied them to trees with their own undergarments.
It was then that we heard the dog again. We decided to follow these sounds as it appeared that the mutt had found something.
When we arrived it appeared that Crimson and Druss had blundered through the ruins of Cliffguard Keep where the bandits obviously had a base on their own. The dog had been used to check for traps and had found one. They could have healed it but fatty decided that 'divine' healing was only for humans and let the faithfull creature die in agony instead. I wont soon forget that.
Now that the leader had rejoined the party, me, we went on. Another battle or two ensued and we all worked cohesively together with my direction.
At the entrance to the keep, my ears picked up a sound. A lone figure emerged from the surrounding forest and shambled towards us. Getting closer to it I saw one of its eyes had popped out of its socket and slithered halfway down its cheek still attached by sinues. It muttered something under its breath. I couldnt quite make it out. I leaned in closer. "....brains", my blood ran cold and I ran....backtracked tactically to allow the cleric to turn the undead creature. It was soon destroyed, however when we next paid attention to our surroundings we noticed that the woods were alive with similar abominations.
Too many for the feeble cleric to handle, we beat a retreat into the old crumbling fortress. Inside we were safe for the time being. We closed the two hulking oak doors
Hoping that this would keep them at bay. Before this was done Druss covered the area before the door in oil and I have him my 1 gold piece tindertwig. I knew it would come in handy when I spent my last gold on it. As we closed the doors several of the nearest zombies caught flame.
I came upon a doorway that the mighty Crimson could not open even with all of this strength. “step aside”, I said and rolled up my shirt sleeve. I ran at the door and burst through it with an amazing show of strength and manliness. Unfortunately the seal around the door was some sort of trap and fire covered me, burning my robe and my some of my beautiful red hair. We spent the next few minutes convincing the less brave among us that this was the only way to go.
We checked out the entire area and came upon an entrance to the catacombs. From here on things would not go our way. We came upon an open area in the catacombs, where there had been traps before, this seemed to be too easy going for my liking. My keen eyes noticed that as I walked the dust I kicked up disappeared in the ground ahead of me. It didn’t settle onto the ground, it seemed to go straight through it. Sure enough the ground ahead was an illusion and it hid a huge spiked pit. The zombies had broken through and were closing. We kept the pit between us and them. A few fell in but some were smarter if this was possible and we were soon outnumbered. Without time to escape we had to run down a corridor where we had turned a portion of them. We hit a dead end and had to battle our way out. All heavily injured the final blow came when our warrior, Druss fell. The cleric went down to and things were looking desperate. I could not lift the heavier cleric and Crimson seemed interested in only rescuing a fellow warrior. I summoned all the strength I could and dragged the rolly cleric. Crimson hoisted the warrior over his shoulders and we headed for an underground river that we had found earlier. Once we reached the river there was no turning back. The idea was to get to the other side and at least be safe from the horde of undead that stalked us. Crimson hoisted Druss as far as he could but it was not far enough and he fell into the roaring river. He had to follow suit to try and keep him afloat. I rolled the cleric into the water and tried to keep him afloat. Druss’s body wedged upon a section of river that intersected the underground canyon and we could not get to him. Crimson and I did our best to keep the cleric’s head above water, then as the river went into a smaller canyon and we followed all we could do was try and save ourselves. It was sometime then that I lost consciousness despite my best efforts to stay awake and save the portly pastor. I woke to Crimson’s swearing. It seemed that at least the three of us were alive if not well. We staggered back to town to alert the guard. Hardly interested they gave us an acolyte cleric and a couple of fledgling guards to accompany us back. Surely our friend was dead but we had to try.
We stayed the night and healed up as best we could. We remembered our friend the mage and asked him along too.
We found our way back to where we had last seen our friend and discovered another level below the one where we lost him.
We eventually came upon an alter room with several stone slabs. On top of each slap lay a dead human. On one of the slabs lay our friend, Druss. My eyes immediately latched onto the ringleader of the thugs, Garis. My attention was quickly turned however to a much larger robed figure, “kill them, kill them all!” it husked.
I played a tune I knew would mesmerize the creature but everyone waded on into battle and broke my spell. The mage cast a magical missile at the large robed figure only to see in his horror that the missile turned around and came back towards him. The mage was almost killed by his own spell.
I jabbed some zombies with my rapier however this was not the weapon of choice and I soon switched to my trusty mace.
The cleric mangaged to heal Druss, luckily for us he had not succomed to being zombie fodder and the robed one obviously had other plans for him.
Undead were continually raised from the stone slabs as we tried to get to their master. Eventually they had been slain, Garis lay in a pool of his own blood. The robed one was strangely untouchable by our weapons. It sounded as if we were hitting stone. Then a lucky shot from Crimson or Druss made it bleed green blood. It was then that it simply faded into nothingness. A lucky escape. We would have killed it.
Behind the alter we found Druss’s equipment and some new ones for us. I found what I believe to be an Adamantine mace, I intend to discover what hidden powers this mighty weapon possess for surely a weapon in possession of a tall dark robed figure would be powerful.
Back in town, the dark plot exposed, the townsfolk saved, we decided it was time we left for a larger town. A place were we could do more good. Baldurs Gate was too provincial we decided, it would have to be Waterdeep.
I rallied my companions although initially we forgot to include the wizard. Druss and Crimson found a stone with a skull on it under the bridge where the towns whineos usually sleep. Where were they tonight? Something was up.
My ever alert ears (you have to have good ears in my line of work) picked up the startled cry of a man back in town. Crimson and Druss seemed to have their own ideas and ran off after Druss's mangy dog, tramping through the woods after a barking dog like thundering dumb beasts that thunder through the woods, er thunderingly.
My brave self and the fat cleric Randall decided to head to danger rather than have a nice jaunt through the woods. It was not long before we came to a dingy alleyway. My keen senses picked up a handfull of men ahead. They were dragging an inert townsman. Never one to sleep on the job I immediately recognised some of the men as local ruffians, Alam, Subor and Garis. Garis seemed to be the ringleader. There were others but the darkness hid them from me for now.
Our plan, although im sure I could have taken them all down by myself. Was instead to follow them. Surely they had done this before, I mean what happened to the bridge dwellers? So follow we did. We almost gave away our posititon when Randall's girth scraped upon a discarded cowbell or something but we blended into the shadows just in time.
Following the men through the woods we were making good progress. Them without notice Randall decided to bump into my Mandolin and it strummed loudly. It must have been Randall because I was sneaking much to cautiosly for it to have been my fault. Two men broke off from the main party and came back to investigate. There was no - where to hide. I made my move. Strumming a little tune I had come up with a week or so ago, my genius inspired me to pretend I was making a little ditty up for an upcoming festival. The men approached. "What are you doing?" one blurted out in a most common tone. "Seeking inspiration for a song im making up for the festival" I replied. One of the men seemed to believe every word I said. The other seemed a little more cautious. "I dont believe ya", "Nonsense, hes just making up a song" replied the other. I knew that this was the right time to strike, I had my mighty rapier at the ready and I neatly inserted it into the disbelieving mas stomach. He reeled in agony. Randall helped to and we brought the two men to justice. I reminded Randall that we were not common thugs and made sure he healed them so that they wouldnt die. Then we tied them to trees with their own undergarments.
It was then that we heard the dog again. We decided to follow these sounds as it appeared that the mutt had found something.
When we arrived it appeared that Crimson and Druss had blundered through the ruins of Cliffguard Keep where the bandits obviously had a base on their own. The dog had been used to check for traps and had found one. They could have healed it but fatty decided that 'divine' healing was only for humans and let the faithfull creature die in agony instead. I wont soon forget that.
Now that the leader had rejoined the party, me, we went on. Another battle or two ensued and we all worked cohesively together with my direction.
At the entrance to the keep, my ears picked up a sound. A lone figure emerged from the surrounding forest and shambled towards us. Getting closer to it I saw one of its eyes had popped out of its socket and slithered halfway down its cheek still attached by sinues. It muttered something under its breath. I couldnt quite make it out. I leaned in closer. "....brains", my blood ran cold and I ran....backtracked tactically to allow the cleric to turn the undead creature. It was soon destroyed, however when we next paid attention to our surroundings we noticed that the woods were alive with similar abominations.
Too many for the feeble cleric to handle, we beat a retreat into the old crumbling fortress. Inside we were safe for the time being. We closed the two hulking oak doors
Hoping that this would keep them at bay. Before this was done Druss covered the area before the door in oil and I have him my 1 gold piece tindertwig. I knew it would come in handy when I spent my last gold on it. As we closed the doors several of the nearest zombies caught flame.
I came upon a doorway that the mighty Crimson could not open even with all of this strength. “step aside”, I said and rolled up my shirt sleeve. I ran at the door and burst through it with an amazing show of strength and manliness. Unfortunately the seal around the door was some sort of trap and fire covered me, burning my robe and my some of my beautiful red hair. We spent the next few minutes convincing the less brave among us that this was the only way to go.
We checked out the entire area and came upon an entrance to the catacombs. From here on things would not go our way. We came upon an open area in the catacombs, where there had been traps before, this seemed to be too easy going for my liking. My keen eyes noticed that as I walked the dust I kicked up disappeared in the ground ahead of me. It didn’t settle onto the ground, it seemed to go straight through it. Sure enough the ground ahead was an illusion and it hid a huge spiked pit. The zombies had broken through and were closing. We kept the pit between us and them. A few fell in but some were smarter if this was possible and we were soon outnumbered. Without time to escape we had to run down a corridor where we had turned a portion of them. We hit a dead end and had to battle our way out. All heavily injured the final blow came when our warrior, Druss fell. The cleric went down to and things were looking desperate. I could not lift the heavier cleric and Crimson seemed interested in only rescuing a fellow warrior. I summoned all the strength I could and dragged the rolly cleric. Crimson hoisted the warrior over his shoulders and we headed for an underground river that we had found earlier. Once we reached the river there was no turning back. The idea was to get to the other side and at least be safe from the horde of undead that stalked us. Crimson hoisted Druss as far as he could but it was not far enough and he fell into the roaring river. He had to follow suit to try and keep him afloat. I rolled the cleric into the water and tried to keep him afloat. Druss’s body wedged upon a section of river that intersected the underground canyon and we could not get to him. Crimson and I did our best to keep the cleric’s head above water, then as the river went into a smaller canyon and we followed all we could do was try and save ourselves. It was sometime then that I lost consciousness despite my best efforts to stay awake and save the portly pastor. I woke to Crimson’s swearing. It seemed that at least the three of us were alive if not well. We staggered back to town to alert the guard. Hardly interested they gave us an acolyte cleric and a couple of fledgling guards to accompany us back. Surely our friend was dead but we had to try.
We stayed the night and healed up as best we could. We remembered our friend the mage and asked him along too.
We found our way back to where we had last seen our friend and discovered another level below the one where we lost him.
We eventually came upon an alter room with several stone slabs. On top of each slap lay a dead human. On one of the slabs lay our friend, Druss. My eyes immediately latched onto the ringleader of the thugs, Garis. My attention was quickly turned however to a much larger robed figure, “kill them, kill them all!” it husked.
I played a tune I knew would mesmerize the creature but everyone waded on into battle and broke my spell. The mage cast a magical missile at the large robed figure only to see in his horror that the missile turned around and came back towards him. The mage was almost killed by his own spell.
I jabbed some zombies with my rapier however this was not the weapon of choice and I soon switched to my trusty mace.
The cleric mangaged to heal Druss, luckily for us he had not succomed to being zombie fodder and the robed one obviously had other plans for him.
Undead were continually raised from the stone slabs as we tried to get to their master. Eventually they had been slain, Garis lay in a pool of his own blood. The robed one was strangely untouchable by our weapons. It sounded as if we were hitting stone. Then a lucky shot from Crimson or Druss made it bleed green blood. It was then that it simply faded into nothingness. A lucky escape. We would have killed it.
Behind the alter we found Druss’s equipment and some new ones for us. I found what I believe to be an Adamantine mace, I intend to discover what hidden powers this mighty weapon possess for surely a weapon in possession of a tall dark robed figure would be powerful.
Back in town, the dark plot exposed, the townsfolk saved, we decided it was time we left for a larger town. A place were we could do more good. Baldurs Gate was too provincial we decided, it would have to be Waterdeep.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
The Companions
Druss - The half orc fighter.Druss is as charismatic as a lump of wood and as witty as a slug.He is a half orc by blood however the only thing that betrays this, apart from his massive frame, is that his lower jaw juts out revealing two small tusks.Standing 6'10", with hands the size of cured hams, and arms as thick as a normal mans leg, Druss has a formidable appearance.
Druss is the product of Orc's attacking a outlying farm owned by elderly couple almost 20 years ago. During the attack the farmer tried to defend his wife but was brutally killed and old lady was savagely raped. The old woman despite being already in her 50's became pregnant. She kept the child as she could not bring herself to kill it as she had never been able to fall pregnant to her husband. Birthing nearly killed her as the babe was the size of most 3 month old infants and she raised Druss teaching him to be a farmer.
Druss worked hard on the farm however the small patch of dirt could not support him and his mother as she needed many expensive healing herbs to fight an ongoing aliment. By the time he was 8 he was the size of most teenagers and he was working on other farms using his scythe to harvest crops with surprising efficiency. Druss moved from farm to farm earning extra money and soon became known as "The Harvester".
In the off seasons when there were no crops to harvest Druss tried hunting with a great bow he made however his size often gave him away. He then started working on fishing boats harpooning seals for blubber. Returning from his last trip he came home to find his mother dead in her bed, the illness finally taking her.
Now that nothing remained at the farm, Druss gathered together some gear, and with the money he had earned on the fishing boat bought some armour and had his harpoon and scythe converted into weapons for battle.
Druss was now ready to see what the world had to offer him.
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Naiden Swiftcaller - Human Bard.In complete opposition to Druss, Naiden is all Charisma and not much else. Wit and his natural ability to pick up any stringed instrument and play it as good as almost anyone are what have got him by over the years. And made him popular with the local ladies, and perhaps not so popular with some of their husbands and suitors.Naiden knows a little of just about everything, which can be helpful but oftentimes can also be dangerous. Just enough knowledge to get himself and his friends into trouble is generally the outcome.Raised by simple farmer parents. They still work the land and Naiden helps...but not so that his skin would become calloused and cracked from too much hard work, he has a professional appearance to keep up you know.Before Naiden had even seen his first Lute or Mandolin, or sung his first note or even batted his first eyelid his inspiration for his later adult profession came from a wandering minstrel, Dupont the Grifter as he was known in his own circles, Dupont the Lute as he would have strangers know him. Dupont had been traveling through Rockyfalls but had been forced to stay for the whole winter due to heavy snow. He had been forced to make the best out of a bad situation. Using his charisma and appeal he lived comfortably off the charity of many of the townsfolk. During this time Naiden had become quite awed by the tall stores and limited musical talents of this wandering bard. As winter lessened its grip upon the area, so did the appeal of this overrated bards performances. He bid a hasty departure from the village and took with him many trinkets that he had managed to grift from lonely widows. Dupont's departure only heightened Naiden's curiosity with anything artistic. Over the years Naiden developed an extraordinary natural talent with stringed instruments of all varieties. He wrote numerous poems and melodies, songs to both lighten and sink hearts. Naiden has played at every annual Solstice Festival and the ever popular Onion Festival, his ballads bringing a tear to many eyes, no pun intended....well actually pun intended.In Naidens mind and perhaps many of the villagers too, his talent could not be denied and a strong drive to become recognized throughout the land has taken hold of his every thought. Naiden plans to take the world by storm with his artistic genius.
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Randall - Human Cleric of TymoraRandell is a medium-sized, but quite overweight, man whose ribald youth is starting to turn into the grotequery of middle age. Most would say he was losing his physique, except that he never had a physique to start with. His shoulders are slightly hunched in pain from years of scribing books in the monastery, but he remains strong yet and has not yet fallen completely into the
decrepitude that the life of the sedentary often leads to.
He wears dull brown clothing, and his physique is turning to fat. Fine hands creased only with the labour of the indolent are out of keeping with the rest of his generally boorish appearance. His cassock is habitually stained from dragging in the mud, and occasionally from food if it is not wash day. He has an anxious look in his eyes, and a face clear of stubble, but he nonetheless
strives to project an air of supreme confidence that his abilities will win him through at the last, and this charismatic charm, despite his physical deficiencies, pervades the perceptions of those who see him.
Randell has been studying and working in the secretive monastery high on the hill for far too long. He has studiously avoided progressing in the ranks of the clergy through the studied art of competence at the cashbook and the journal, and not through competence as a missionary bringing the blazing light of Pelor to the peasants. Randell's calling from Pelor has been different to that, but no less important. Randell has spent ten years as the bursar for the orphanage, and in this role he has been competent, faithful, and diligent, if not brilliant.
To date, Randell has shown a hot desire for nothing but food and the avoidance of physical labour, but he has maintained his devotions to Pelor, and Pelor has never doubted him. However, due to his contact mainly with children during the day and his hessian cassock at night, he has maintained an appearance of being boorish and ill-kempt to most people, although they nevertheless find him charismatic and wise. Randell's indolence at physical labour, however, has brought him some scorn from rivals within the priesthood, and there have been rumours that Randell's role in the orphanage has allowed him to indulge in forbidden, perverted pleasures of the flesh while sustaining his studied art of laziness through misrepresentation and fraud in the monies of the Church. Completely unfounded, these rumours have lead to Randell's removal from the post of bursar, and the Abbott has told Randell to seek his way in the world to bring the blazing fiery light of conversion to peasants, gentry, and the nobility. Randell is
dismayed at the besmirchment of his good name, with rumours unproven and never brought directly to him by his accusers, and is woe-begone indeed to find that his former post of bursar - where he did nothing but good for the children - has gone to an overbearing, thin, man of despotic nature and devilry in his eyes. The rumours of Randell however have been widespread, and Randell's accusations have been met with stony silence and the desultory glare of the stupid. Randell's previous indolence is not completely cured, but he is now driven by his love for the small creatures of the forest and the small children in the orphanage - oh what shiningly bright eyes they have as they learn of the blazing crimson way of Pelor from Randell's tongue and become even more rooted in their faith! - towards a more proactive and adventurous way of life.
Randell is tired of having bad things happen to him. Now, Randell wants to happen to bad things!
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Crimson - Human Male Finesse Fighter (ooo ahhh) :PCrimson is a professional and always has an air of control about him. Every move he makes or word he speaks is calculated to achieve desired effect. He never allows emotions or the circumstances, no matter how dire, to master him. He tirelessly maintains himself in top condition, and constantly seeks to improve his martial skills.Crimson also is terribly cunning, able to outthink as well as outfight his opponents. One aspect of his professionalism that is rare in a man is that Crimson usually never kills unless it is necessary. There has been the occasional exception, where Crimson killed somebody simply because he really wanted to. On two of these three occasions the victim had made the mistake of angering Crimson and provoking him. Crimson has vowed to "never leave an enemy in his wake." He does not take threats lightly. For the most part, those who are not enemies of Crimson or his allies have nothing to fear from him.
Crimson's greatest hatred and disgust is reserved for those who are willing to abandon or betray their children in an effort to save themselves. This is because of the events during his formative years, specifically because of something that was done to him by adults that as a child he should have been able to trust. Although Crimson has never revealed his total past, it appears that somebody close to him, most likely a parent or a close family friend, betrayed him when he was less than nine years of age. Whatever it was that happened, Crimson has been extremely reluctant to completely trust anybody since then.
Crimson is a tactical master, taking every advantage offered him and seeking to create more. He'll often do this by taunting his foe into anger and mistakes. Crimson is a consummate warrior, combining his agility and warrior's weapon skills to be a very dangerous swordsman. He specializes in a two-weaponed fighting style with the use of a two shorts or short sword and lonsword for added damage. He also favour's the bow or Heavy Repeating Crossbow.
Crimson reveals little about his past, but a little is known about his early life. Crimson was born into the streets and spent his youth in Baldur's Gate; here, he was constantly abused by his father and his uncle. He was taken in by a mercenary guild and taught the tricks of the trade including the basics of fighting. As Crimson practiced, he flourished, becoming a most efficient swordsman with unmatched agility and was hired by many merchants for his sword arm.
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