Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
Barrow of the Forgotten Story Hour - Complete! 8/13/08
Barrow of the Forgotten King Story Hour.
As the title suggests, I’m starting a story hour for our Thursday campaign to recount our adventures through the Barrow trilogy. I’m not a writer by any stretch of the imagination, so I apologize in advance for all the typos and horrific grammar.
The 1st game saw 4 out of 5 players with a placeholder for the 5th to join in next time. We play (about) every two weeks so updates will be at about the same rate.
It is assumed Kingsholm is the (primarily) human version of Hobbiton, a community separated from the rest of the world by distance and the bravery of others unknown to an oblivious populace.
Last edited by Abciximab; 13th August 2008 at 04:18 PM..
Four strangers, simply looking for a comfortable place to rest in this sparsely populated area, find themselves in the middle of an emergency town meeting.
Ian Turbrand, owner of the Coronet and Cabbage Inn and town councilor, stands in the middle of the common room speaking loudly about the apparent doom that has fallen upon the town. “Never! Never in our life time have we had any serious trouble in this community and now it would seem, evil has found its way into our midst!”
“'Midst?'” Celtir whispered to one his fellow travelers, “I thought the graveyard was almost a mile away?”
“When you live your life in blissful ignorance of the evils that are kept at bay by the non-human nations around you, a mile is far too close,” answered Wencis.
The others also looked on with some doubt in their eyes. All were members of the border kingdoms, the (mostly non-human) kingdoms that kept this region safe, often at the expense of their own lives. This small human community was kept safe by an old pact made long ago by a long lost king, still honored by the nations that live on.
“Now is a time of heroes! Who among us will step forth and save the community from this evil?” asked Ian.
Many an eye was downcast, feet were nervously shuffled, throats cleared. “But… but you sent two sentinels, and neither have returned. We aren’t warriors,” answered Ol’ Jake, a farmer from the eastern edge of town. “Maybe you should send more of the guard, you know, like… maybe the rest of ‘em”.
“And who will guard the town? There is crime here in town, you all know this…”
A voice interrupted from the back, “I thought he was arrested…”
“… and what if the evil comes here while they are away?” Ian continues, ignoring the comment and the nervous laughter. “Maybe this is just a distraction, to draw our protection away from the town itself!”
Frankie, always having a low tolerance for foolishness and drama, finally stepped forth, “What, exactly is it that has moved into your graveyard that has brought about the end of civilization as you know it?”
Ian looked upon the strangers as if noticing them for the first time. “Two days ago a family of three went up to the graveyard and did not return. Two sentinels were sent to inspect, a human and one of your hearty race and they also have yet to return. This place has always been safe. We… we simply have no experience with this type of thing.”
They all saw the exact moment of Ian’s epiphany and knew what was coming. “You… You all look like seasoned travelers. You sir elf, that is the holy symbol to the Elven god of war unless I miss my guess, could you help us? There is a reward you know.”
This peaked their interest. “How much?” asked Bootsy skeptically.
“50 pieces of gold,” Ian answered quickly, eager to set the hook.
The lack of response got Ian’s wheels turning, “Each!” Still nothing.
“And another 250 gold if you catch or destroy whatever it is that has defiled the place. Each,” he quickly added.
“The 50 up front?” Bootsy asked just as quickly.
Ian thought for a moment, “Yes… though we could give you the equivalent worth in supplies, or healing drafts.”
“We’ll take a little of both, gold and goods to get us started,” answered Wencis.
“Will none of you come with us?” asked Celtir.
Again, all looked about nervously. Ian finally answered, “We’ll send someone with you, as a torch bearer or some such. He knows his way around a blade as well if you’ll trust him with one.”
“Can’t say as I like the sound of that,” answered Celtir.
“He’s a small time crook. Never actually killed anyone, spends his days performing petty theft and swindling and after a visit to the pawn shop and the tavern, he spends his nights with Hairy Helga, the Half-Orc Harlot.”
“What was he arrested for?” asked Bootsy always the skeptic.
“Assault,” answered Ian. Seeing they were expecting more he added, “He beat Gerren Landros, the nephew of the Town speaker, to within an inch of his life. Caught him bad-mouthing Helga apparently.”
“Great,” answered the four strangers together with little enthusiasm.
And with that, the adventure begins.
Last edited by Abciximab; 4th April 2008 at 02:00 PM..
“The gate is open, that isn’t a good sign,” stated Mia. The captain of the town guard was “escorting” them to the graveyard. The adventurers assumed she was just making sure they didn’t run off with the 50 gold without investigating. As they passed through the gate, they saw the bodies lying on the steps of the mausoleum. “This is as we feared, I must run back to town to let them know,” Mia said, before almost running back the way they had come.
“Coward,” Celtir whispered harshly.
“Ah, don’t judge them too harshly,” answered Wencis, “they are simple folk unused to conflict, let alone violence.”
“No, I assumed she saw the wolves hiding behind the statues and another darker one further back,” said Celtir.
At this, the remaining companions stopped and looked up toward the mausoleum. “Damn, we can’t even get inside without something attacking us,” grumbled Bootsy.
As one, they rushed up the hill and were met by all three wolves. Using his soul magic Wencis summoned a magical war hammer and struck one of the wolves a glancing blow. A swipe from Frankie’s great axe finished it and another was wounded by Bootsy’s crossbow. The two remaining wolves seemed to take exception to Wencis and attacked him, biting at his legs. One grabbed his foot and pulled him off balance dropping him onto his back. Blades flashed, bolts flew and the remaining wolves were quickly killed.
“This one is different,” Celtir observed pointing to the dark wolf, “a young Worg unless I miss my guess.”
“Nah,” observed Bootsy, “they’re all the same. Dead.”
They moved up to inspect the dead bodies on the steps. “It’s the guards. The Dwarf and the human,” stated Celtir. They all glanced at the bodies then over at Bootsy who seemed to lean in for a moment. They noticed a little blood on one of his fingers.
“Don’t look at me,” he said, “I got nothin’.”
Moving quickly they stepped up to the doors and followed the blood trail inside, ready for anything. There was nothing. The room was obviously used to prepare bodies for internment and had already been ransacked by someone else. They all moved to a door that stood at the back of the room. It opened easily and they followed the stairs beyond down into the… light.
The room beyond was well lit with guttering torches mounted along the walls. At the bottom of the stairs they saw the bloody corpse of a human woman. The statue of a winged celestial stood to one side of the room. Seven tables lined the east and west walls, all but two holding corpses and a pile of broken stone separated this end of the room from the other. Rows of vaults filled the far wall.
“Those two bodies are relatively fresh,” noted Celtir, always observant. “And one of the vaults has been spiked shut.”
“You can see that from here?” questioned Wencis as he squinted his eyes and tried to examine the far wall.
Celtir just smiled and walked across the room, intent on inspecting the vaults. As he stepped beyond the rubble, a volley of arrows flew from the east, all missing their target. “Skeletons!” he shouted, alerting the others. As they moved to help, two of the bodies on the tables stood up.
“We got zombies!” shouted Frankie, swinging at one of them with his axe. Wencis approached the other, striking with his war hammer. It seemed to shrug off some of the damage and flailed back at him, striking him a solid blow on his arm. Celtir ran to confront the skeletons, shattering one with his weapon. The remaining two dropped their bows and clawed at him, one struck him twice. One claw left just a scratch, the other gouged deep. Bootsy approached one of the zombies and hurled a vial of holy water. Shattering on the head of the creature the liquid ran down over the side of its head and neck, burning away rotted flesh like acid as it went. Frankie struck at the feet of the zombie in front of him, cutting away one of its legs. It dropped back onto the table but still struck at him. He barely noticed the blow.
The other zombie fell beneath the combined onslaught of Wencis’ war hammer and yet another vial of holy water from Bootsy. Wencis quickly moved to scramble over the rubble. A number of strikes from both skeletons missed Celtir, but his own strikes were no more effective then those of the undead before him. Frankie brought his axe down onto the skull of the zombie in front of him, finishing it off. He then stumbled over the rubble to join the others, with Bootsy following close behind. Wencis and Celtir had things well in hand by the time they arrived, dispatching the last two skeletons quickly.
Last edited by Abciximab; 4th April 2008 at 02:01 PM..
“Ok, good or evil, it’s obvious something has been sealed in there,” said Celtir as he examined the sealed vault. “The question is, do we open it?”
“We open it,” Wencis answered.
A couple quick tugs showed it was firmly set. As they pulled and levered, they heard a short squeak from within. Sharing a puzzled look, Frankie and Celtir stepped to either side of the door. The two of them worked at the door for a couple of minutes before finally levering off the door. A young girl tumbled out, disheveled and frightened.
“Little Miss Yurling, I assume,” said Celtir. A brief examination showed she was frightened, hungry and thirsty but otherwise ok. “We should take her back.”
“Bah, it’s a 15 minute walk though the safest place in the realms, we have more important things to do here," said Bootsy.
A short discussion and it was agreed, she would walk back alone. She would run back, as it turned out.
Celtir and Wencis shared a guilty look and then moved to the east where there was another door. Beyond was a passage with the statue of a woman. There were small fountains on either side of her set in niches along the northern wall. A closed stone door stood opposite and more vaults lined the east wall, all obviously looted. Beyond the second fountain was a hall leading off to the north. As they stepped in, they noted the hall smelled like rain. Bootsy moved to inspect the fountains and the statue while Celtir moved beyond to look down the hall. The others inspected the stone door.
“Nothing exciting here,” said Bootsy as he walked around the statue. “What’s everyone else got?”
“Seems like a simple stone door here,” answered Wencis, with a shrug.
“Well, I’ve got something interesting,” answered Celtir. The others moved to look. Two short sets of stairs led down to a stone door with no obvious handle and a strange carving. Engraved into the door was a Beholder, also known as an eye tyrant, with words carved beneath.
Magic Dies, Fast Men Slow, The Passage You Seek is not Below.
Eye of Death, Eye of Stone, The Key to Passage They Haven’t Shown.
Fear and Mind, You Can Say, Will Move You Around in the Wrong Way.
Friends are Shy, Sleep in Rest, Neither Points to the Passage That’s Best.
Enemy Friend, Painful Wound, Oblivion Aids it is Runed.
Bootsy had to look twice to make sure he was seeing the same thing as everyone else. “Well, the images seem to indicate the different effects of the Beholders eyes. Oblivion aids? What the nine hells does that mean?” he asked.
“Maybe it has something to do with opening the door,” Celtir answered, as he pushed on the door. “It won’t budge.”
“Well let’s check the other stone door,” said Wencis.
They all moved back to the other door and Frankie stepped up and pulled it open. Three steps led down to a large vault. As he stood there he heard a low whirring sound that quickly faded away. A statue stood to the east, a man in robes holding a book, eyes downcast. Two sarcophagi sat at the base of the stair, small niches were built into each of the walls in no particular pattern. The entire place looked as though it had just been cleaned.
“Well, this doesn’t seem the slightest bit suspicious,” Bootsy stated sarcastically. “Stand back, I’ve an idea.” He spread his arms before him and summoned forth a dog within the room. The moment it appeared, four small mechanical creatures that resembled wasps flew from the niches and struck at the animal with sharp proboscis. The animal started stumbling about, biting one of the creatures and crushing it within its jaws. The dog was obviously affected by something more then just the obvious wounds as it clumsily lashed out again before disappearing back to its home plane. Bootsy slammed the door shut.
“How many more times can you do that?” asked Wencis.
“Bah, waste of resources, everyone ready a missile weapon. Frankie, get ready to open the door,” said Bootsy as he loaded his crossbow.
Once they were all ready, they pulled open the door. Bootsy threw in his pack and, as the creatures came out to inspect the disturbance, bolts and arrows flew and two more of the creatures fell to the floor. As the last turned toward the doorway, Bootsy stepped forward and slammed the door shut. “One more time ought to do it,” he said as he smiled and stepped back to reload his crossbow.
Less then 20 seconds later they were all within the vault, inspecting its contents. “There’s nothing interesting about the statue, nothing written in the book. He is looking down though, wasn’t there something about a ‘passage below’ on that other door?” Bootsy asked.
“I think it was ‘not below’,” answered Wencis.
“The sarcophagi don’t move,” said Celtir. ”Let’s see what’s inside. Frankie, give me a hand here.” After a brief struggle the two of them forced open the two sarcophagi. “Well nothing obvious. I hate to do it but…” He leaned over, slicing at the linen and burial robes of one of the bodies. Beneath was a small metal tube with a striker. He lifted them out and, with a quick look at those gathered around him, shrugged and hit the metal tube with the striker. A short crystal clear chime sounded for a moment and then faded away. Nothing happened. “Ok, back to the other door.”
Standing once again in front of the “Beholder Door”, Celtir sounded the chime once again. Again the chime rang for a short time but then disintegrated into dust. With a doubtful look back at his companions he pushed against the door. The door slid back, then to the side, revealing an oddly shaped room beyond. Bright white light illuminated a room that was divided into four distinct areas with tiled floors. Each octagonal area was roughly the same size. The closest had a stylized eye carved into the center tile. As they entered, they spread out, each going to a different area. Bootsy stepped up to the eye and cast Detect Magic. “This whole area radiates a strong aura of magic, I can’t differentiate any part of this place from another,” he stated. Then, shrugging, he stepped onto the eye. He felt magic wash over him, dispelling the Mage Armor he had cast earlier as well as the Detect Magic he had just cast. “Damn”, he swore as he stepped away to renew his Mage Armor.
Wencis went to the North. There he saw 3 tiles with carvings, 2 of them were not firmly set into the floor. “Oblivion aids…”, he said quietly. “There’s a carving of a man being disintegrated here.” He looked closely at the tile, and then stepped upon it. “Nothing here,” he called back to the others.
Frankie was investigating the three carved tiles to the east, while Celtir made a quick circuit throughout the areas. “The images are in a different order if you follow them left to right. Look, some of them can be moved.” He reached down and lifted two of the tiles from the western room. “Drop this one back one…” he started, thinking out loud. Making a few trips back and forth, he placed the tiles in the same order around the rooms as they were on the door. They heard a brief yell from Wencis, who was still standing on the tile in the middle of the north room. Frankie in the east and Celtir in the west looked to Bootsy, who was still standing in the central area. “It’s ok. The tile just disappeared below him. Judging from the short duration of his scream, the drop couldn’t have been that far.”
They all moved to look down the newly opened exit in the floor of the north room. Wencis looked up at them looking a little sheepish. “Wasn’t expecting that,” he simply stated.
As the others climbed down the ladder into the small space, Wencis moved down the stairs to the east to make room. Five feet down there was a landing where the stairs turned to the south. As he started down, he noticed some movement in a pile of bones on the next landing. At almost the same moment a distant howl sounded as two doglike skeletons rose from the piles. “More skeletons,” he shouted over his shoulder as he moved down to strike at the wolves with his hammer. The others came down quickly, squeezing around one another in the small space, trying to get to a position where they would be most useful. Frankie moved to the front, striking at them with his axe. He found it hard to find a good place to strike the hollow creatures, but with his strength his blade still did significant damage. One of the creatures bit Frankie on the leg, but the two were no match for the companions organized offence and fell quickly.
As Wencis stepped down the last flight of steps to the west, a huge rotting creature stepped forth and swung a meaty fist at him. He managed to dodge the attack even in the narrow stair and again he called out, “Undead… uh, I think it was once an ogre, it’s big whatever it was!”
Once more, there was a rush through the cramped space as Frankie and Celtir fought their way to the front, each slashing at the creature and damaging it somewhat. Bootsy, now out of Holy Water, broke out the acid. The effect on the undead was about the same, though his allies did not appreciate the splashing drops that pitted their armor. The large creature lashed out at those moving around it, though the cramped quarters seemed to be working against it. As Frankie dug his axe into the creature’s leg, the creature finally made contact. It struck Frankie with a solid blow across his head, though this proved to be the zombies undoing. Frankie was stunned for just a moment and then grew enraged. Frothing at the mouth, he lashed out again, this time burying his axe deep into the chest of the zombie. The creature fell to the ground with a loud thump.
“I think we need a break,” said Bootsy. “Our resources are sapped. How long have we been at this?”
“Uh, about 45 minutes…” answered Wencis.
The companions looked at each other and, shaking their heads, headed back up the stairs.
End of Session 1.
Last edited by Abciximab; 4th April 2008 at 02:10 PM..
I was wondering how things would go, I've read about a number of problem with the difficulty level of the mod, so far it seems right on target for a party of 4. Getting past the sealed Beholder door presented a challenge, so I made some changes.
Players did well (Some good rolls, especially spot checks), as I expected and moved very quickly. Short sessions (2 1/2 hours or less) so keeping the game going is important. A lot of humor around the table as well, I don't think that aspect is reflected in the story, but I'll try to see if I can work it in more in the future.
Typing from memory (Time for notes? Ha!) so there are a few details missing (I remembered after the fact the gnome summoning a dog for the 1st encounter).
Player and outside comments are welcome (Please keep future spoilers out of this thread).
Very accurate portrayal and very well written, especially capturing just how someone would act when the floor disappears underneath them! LOL.
I think you have captured the players traits in the PC's pretty accurately.
“So… Back at it?” Wencis asked, stretching as he pushed himself away from the remains of his morning meal.
“Yeah, I think we’re ready,” answered Celtir. “Anyone need any more healing before we go?”
The others shook their heads. Bootsy was unscathed yesterday and though Frankie had come very close to being killed by the large zombie, Celtir had healed most of his wounds the night before. He was left with a few minor cuts and bruises but felt well enough to continue.
They had returned to the Coronet and Cabbage to rest for the remainder of the day and overnight. As they had come down for the evening meal they had found a well dressed elderly lady waiting for them, the little girl they had rescued close to her side. As they crossed the room, the gray haired lady moved to meet them. “My granddaughter tells me you rescued her and showed her some kindness and I thank you. We Yurlings try to pay our debts and though there is nothing I can give you that is worth the life of my granddaughter, I hope you will accept this small token as a thank you.” With this, she had handed a small pouch to Wencis that was obviously filled with coins.
Noting Frankie was not yet present, Bootsy smiled, greedily rubbed his hands together and squealed, “Three way split!” With the others giving him a disbelieving look, he added somberly, “Just kiddin’.”
During their morning meal, they had talked a little about preparations for their next foray into the mausoleum. Pushing away empty plates, they divided the reward and agreed to meet back here once each had run their individual errands. A short time later, they had all returned and, with a grim look on their faces, headed off once again to the graveyard. Wencis was followed closely by what appeared to be a little flying ball of energy.
Approaching the mausoleum after the short walk to the graveyard, Bootsy commented, “Good thing we shut the gate.” The others looked at him questioningly and he continued, motioning for the others to look around the graveyard, “No wolves.”
Returning to the “Beholder Room” through the door they had wedged open, they we’re surprised to see the puzzle had reset, the tiles once again in the wrong order.
“Looks like we do it again”, said Celtir.
“Do you think I have to be standing on the ‘Disintegrate’ tile again for this to work?” Wencis asked, with some apprehension.
With a bemused look, Celtir answered, “Uh, no I don’t expect so, let’s just try rearranging the tiles and see what happens.” Once again they placed the tiles where they belonged and the entry tile disappeared revealing the ladder down. Forming a short cue, they descended into the dark, returning to the small room at the bottom of the stairs. The smell of rot filled the small space as the corpse of the zombie continued to decay. Celtir stepped forward and opened the door.
Beyond was a narrow rope and wood bridge, spanning what looked like a natural crevasse filled with gray water. At the far end they could see a small room with two exits. After a quick inspection of the bridge, Celtir turned to his companions, “Well, there’s only one thing for it,” he said and then moved cautiously out onto the span. About halfway across, his sharp eyes noticed the ropes at the far end quickly unraveling. Muttering a brief expletive, he tried to run forward and leap the rest of the way. Unable to find solid purchase below him as he jumped, he found himself tumbling down into the water. Coming to the surface quickly he sputtered and wiped the water from his face. Discovering the water was only four feet deep, he stood and started to make his way back toward his companions who were stifling laughter. The snickering quickly turned to surprise when, within arms reach of the nearside, they saw a gray glob rise from the water and grab Celtir from behind. Their surprise was reflected tenfold in Celtir’s face as he was pulled over backwards into the water. Wencis quickly jumped down to help him as he thrashed below the surface, struggling to escape. He broke the surface, for a moment coughing and sputtering to Wencis, “Kill it!” Once again, he was jerked below the water.
“Kill it? I can’t even see it!” he answered as he slammed his hammer into the water where he thought the creature might be, but struck nothing more than water.
Bootsy, up on the landing, pushed Frankie aside. “I never thought I’d get to summon one on these,” he said, giggling and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Focusing himself, he started to cast.
Wencis kept flailing away as his Soul Spark fired little balls of energy into the water, trying to find the creature that was all but invisible within the water. Celtir struggled to hold his breath while being buffeted and slammed by the creature. His feet slid on the algae covered walls and floor as he tried, unsuccessfully, to escape the creature that held him. A fin suddenly appeared in the water beyond where Celtir thrashed and, for a moment, Wencis thought things had gotten worse. Looking more closely, he realized the creature was a porpoise and hearing Bootsy laughing and clapping his hands together with glee, knew where it had come from.
A few short clicks allowed the porpoise to zero in on the threat and it swam forward, slamming into the creature holding Celtir. The strike loosened the grip of the creature for a moment and Celtir was finally able to break free. He quickly moved past the porpoise to get away from the ooze and get his bearings. A crossbow bolt flew overhead, flashing into the water and seemed to strike something within the water. Wencis continued to splash away with his hammer, shaking his head as he failed to strike anything but water, not wanting to believe a sorcerer with a crossbow could be more effective at fighting then he was. He heard Bootsy’s mocking voice from above, “Firing into combat at an invisible creature and I can still nail it! Ha! And that was with both eyes closed while standing on one foot!” he taunted. Wencis just shook his head once more, sure that there was something wrong with the world.
The porpoise lunged again but missed just before disappearing, returning to its home plane. Wencis and his Soul Spark were just as ineffective, water splashing into his face as he struck at the creature. Finally, Celtir fired an arrow that lanced into it and the water grew still, the ooze losing cohesion and dispersing in the water.
“Right,” said Bootsy, “Let’s find a way across that doesn’t involve me getting my feet wet.” Wencis and Celtir, both completely soaked, shared a bemused look.
Last edited by Abciximab; 4th April 2008 at 02:04 PM..
Great start! I'll be DMing this myself in a few weeks, so it's a great resource to see what other groups get up to
Looking forward to more episodes of this hilarious journal!
Thanks for the encouraging words! There's more to come from this session, I'm working on the write up of three more areas they covered. Some interesting encounters ahead.
I've been looking for write ups from other players for this trilogy, but haven't come up with much, though I read a lot of feedback about potential stumbling blocks for the party. So far, I think the mod is fairly well balanced for a party of 4. We'll see what happens if our 5th party member ever decides to show up. Hope you have fun with your adventures though the Barrow.
“It’s freakish the way he never seems to miss,” Wencis whispered to Celtir. “Don’t mages have to spend all their time in study and research to master their magic?”
“Bootsy’s magic comes from within, not from spell books. Perhaps that leaves him more time to practice with the crossbow,” Celtir answered. “He has certainly mastered reloading it quickly and that is no easy feat.”
They had struggled across the water, each refused to carry Bootsy, who finally had to jump down and try to swim across. Watching him do a poor version of the dog paddle, Wencis finally took pity on him and pulled him to the far side, where Celtir had already climbed up and fastened a rope. Soon the companions were standing together in the small chamber, wringing out their clothes and drying their equipment as best they could.
Two doors stood on opposite sides of this chamber. The one in the south was cracked and broken and had obviously been broken down, dirt and rubble covering the floor before it. The other door seemed sound as the companions moved up to it. Once again it was Celtir who stepped forward and opened the door.
Beyond was what appeared to be a hexagonal room, though it was hard to be sure since it seemed to be divided by a number of interior walls. The outer walls were covered in scenes of men and women of all races carousing in a tavern. One scene showed a Golden Dragon defeating a great Red Dragon. Two statues stood along the south and east walls, one a knight, the other a beautiful princess. Celtir and Wencis moved in opposite directions to inspect them both, while Frankie and Bootsy waited outside the room.
As Celtir arrived at the statue of the woman, he heard a shuffling sound behind him. Turning around quickly he saw a fast moving creature, obviously undead, with horns on the top of its head and long arms that almost dragged on the ground. Held in its rotting grasp was a scimitar. With cat-like reflexes, Bootsy shut the door. Both stifling a curse, Celtir and Wencis drew their weapons. The creature lunged forward, moving faster then any zombie Celtir had ever seen and slashed at him. The zombie’s weapon opened a shallow wound down his right arm. Celtir stepped back and fired an arrow into the creature as Wencis came up behind it and, with hands wreathed in gauntlets of glowing energy, punched the creature. The energy seemed to wash over the zombie’s back, causing it some small injury.
Out in the hall Frankie looked incredulous. “Don’t you think they might need our help in there?” He asked harshly.
“Sorry,” answered Bootsy as he loaded his crossbow, “Just a reflex.” Frankie opened the door once again and Bootsy fired into the melee across the room. Wencis was startled by a bolt whizzing past his left ear, past the zombie and hitting the far wall. Bootsy looked nonplussed, “Huh, guess you can’t hit ‘em all.”
Calling on his Deity, Celtir’s hand glowed with positive energy as he stepped forward, touching the zombie on its arm. The bright energy burned at the undead creature angering it further. Lashing out once again, the creature sliced into Celtir’s shoulder. Wencis once again punched with his gauntlets, burning the creature with his soul energy.
Two more of the creatures stepped out from behind the walls on opposite ends of the room, though these were obviously alive. One ran up to Celtir, striking him with a scimitar and running back to where he had started before Celtir could even react to his presence. The other creature fired an arrow that glanced off Wencis’ armor.
Bootsy, focusing his attention on one of the new arrivals, drew a bead on its head, “Hey!” he shouted to get its attention. As the creature turned to look at him he fired, the bolt burying itself in one of the creatures eyes. Amazingly it still stood, dropping its bow and drawing a short sword as Frankie stepped forward, slashing with his axe but missing the creature.
Wencis and his Soul Spark continued to strike at the zombie, as Celtir fired at the other living creature, striking him in the arm. Once more the goblinoid ran forward and, with a snarl, drove its scimitar into Celtir’s chest. The creature laughed mockingly as he withdrew the blade and once again ran back. Celtir, his bow dropping from his hands, fell to his knees, then pitched forward to onto the floor, his life blood pooling around him.
Bootsy quickly reloaded and fired once more. Amazingly, the bolt pierced the creatures other eye and it fell over backwards onto the floor. Frankie ran forward and hacked at the zombie, his axe biting deep into its back. Turning, the zombie slashed at Frankie, the scimitar glancing off his stiff leather armor. Running forward once again, the remaining goblinoid attacked Wencis, but his blade flew wide of its mark. Another bolt from Bootsy also missed its intended target as Frankie wound up and buried his axe deep into the chest of the zombie. Pulling his axe from the creature, Frankie watched it fall to the ground. Wencis struck the remaining creature a solid blow to the head and it finally dropped to the floor as well. Running forward Bootsy quickly frisked Celtir, looking for a potion but finding none. “He still lives,” he said. ”Perhaps he’ll stay that way if we work fast. Anyone got any potions?” Everyone made a quick check and indicated they had none left. The scramble was on as each of the companions worked to stop Celtir from bleeding out. Wencis was finally able to pack the wound and stop the bleeding just in time. Celtir was deathly pale, but still lived.
The room and its former occupants were quickly searched. Bootsy found two potions on one of the goblinoids. Pocketing one he checked the other. “Here’s a healing draft”, he said. “But it’s a minor one.”
Frankie stepped forward, “Here’s a vial I found on the other one. Can you tell what it is?”
“Here, let me see it,” said Bootsy as he took the vial and inspected it. “Yeah, that’s the one to get him off of death’s door.”
Wencis knelt to help Bootsy administer the potion to Celtir. Soon, the color was returning to his cheeks and his eyes opened. “See what happens when the God-Botherer goes down?” Bootsy said with a smirk. “Ya’ have ta use up yer non-renewable resources.”
“I’ll keep that in mind and try not to almost die in future encounters,” answered Celtir dryly.
After healing himself and the others, Celtir asked, “So which way, the broken door or the double doors to the west?”
A short discussion brought the companions back to the broken door. Frankie braced himself and lifted the door, moving it off to the side with a crash.
Beyond was a chamber that was probably part of the tomb, but was covered in piles of dirt and rock. A small pool of water had accumulated to one side. Right next to the door a rope ladder was hung, disappearing up though a hole in the ceiling to who knows where.
Frankie and Bootsy entered the room and looked around at the rubble. As Bootsy moved closer to the ladder, a long rubbery arm lashed out of the hole striking Bootsy in the head. He ducked aside, to escape from the grasping hand. Quickly loading his crossbow, he fired a shot that stuck into the earthen ceiling around the hole.
Wencis heard the commotion and entered the room to see what was happening and if he could be of any help. Not knowing what had happened, he was not expecting an attack from above. The arm lashed out and a strong hand grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground and pulling him toward the ceiling. With his feet thrashing a few feet off the floor he was unable to free himself from the grasping hands as they started to choke the life out of him. Jumping forward, Frankie tried to help pry him free, but was unable to get a good grip on Wencis. Stepping closer, Celtir fired an arrow up at the rubbery creature, striking it in the shoulder. He soon regretted stepping forward as Bootsy hurled a flask of acid at the creature. The vial struck the ceiling right next to the creature and everyone recoiled as they were showered with acid. The companion’s actions became more desperate as they notice that Wencis had stopped thrashing around.
Frankie leapt up and grabbed Wencis around the waist, the sudden pull worked as the gangly creature lost its grip and Frankie and Wencis landed in a pile at the base of the rope ladder. Seeing an opening, Celtir fired his bow, piercing the creature through the throat. With a wet gurgle it fell to the ground. Bootsy calmly walk over and kicked it in the head a couple of times for good measure.
“He’s still alive,” said Frankie as he stood. Celtir knelt down and poured healing energy into Wencis. He awoke and tried to stand but he was still feeling weak. Grumbling a little to himself, Bootsy pulled out the healing potion he had tucked away, and gave it to Wencis. “This’ll get ya up and going lass ('lad') uh, sorry... lad.”
“I see daylight”, Celtir commented, looking up through the hole. “We could use this to get in and out instead of having to get over that crevasse every time we come and go.”
“We should scout it out”, said Frankie as he picked up his axe. Celtir nodded, shouldered his bow and started up the ladder.
After a considerable amount of climbing, they finally reached the top. Celtir climbed out and turned to help Frankie. They found themselves in a wooded area and standing before them was the Statue of the Forgotten King. The statue was slightly weathered but there were no marks or significant blemishes to be seen on it. Before they could even move to look more closely, they heard a low, gurgling growl.
Looking through the brush they saw a horrendous sight. The abomination looked like it had the body of a dog with a long serpentine neck growing out of the middle of it’s back, at the end of which there was what passed for it’s head, but in truth just appeared to be an oversized maw full of teeth. Green bile filled its mouth as it ran toward them. When it got closer it spit a slimy green ball of acid at Frankie. He tried to dodge, but it splattered onto him. He could feel the acid burning away his skin as it seeped through the cracks in his armor. A look of determination crossed his features and he surveyed his surroundings. Despite his pain a small smile appeared on his face as he got an idea. A wonderful, awful idea.
Celtir unshouldered his bow and fired at the hound, striking it a glancing blow. The wound was already healing as the hound approached. The creature snapped at Frankie, its teeth sliding over his armor. Frankie dropped his shoulder and bull rushed the hound, trying to drive it back. The creature lashed out again, biting Frankie in the leg as he approached, causing him to stumble and fail in his attempt. Frankie stepped back to try again and Celtir, seeing his intent, did the same. Together they rushed the creature and slammed into it. The hound gnashed its teeth, trying to find an opening to sink its teeth into one of them, but was unsuccessful as they pushed it back. The hound stumbled as two of its legs went into the large hole. It scrambled trying to regain its balance but the dirt fell away and it could not find purchase. With a howl, the hound fell into the two hundred foot deep hole. They heard a few yelps of pain as the doglike creature hit the walls as it fell.
At the bottom, the other two were wondering what was taking so long and were just about to step forward to call up, when they heard the howl and the yelps. A cascade of dirt and rock fell from the hole and they all stepped back. There was a loud meaty thump as the body of the creature slammed into the stony pile of rubble below the hole. As one, they reflexively brought up their arms to try to cover themselves from the spray of blood and gore that splattered the entire room.
Bringing down his arms, blood and entrails dripping from his hair, Bootsy looked at Wencis, who was also covered in gore. “I’m thinkin’… Yeah, I’m thinkin’ it’s time to head back to town and get cleaned up.” Wencis, despite his reluctance to go along with a suggestion from the gnome, couldn’t help but agree with him.
End of Session 2
Last edited by Abciximab; 4th April 2008 at 02:05 PM..
I recall that run with more pain, maybe it was me but I thought I was out of it for a good portion of the night. I promise never to mock hobgoblins again, although I will have arrowheads sharpened for the next game.....
Very well written. Bootsy, in particlular, rubs his hands feverishly all the time LOL.
I recall that run with more pain, maybe it was me but I thought I was out of it for a good portion of the night. I promise never to mock hobgoblins again, although I will have arrowheads sharpened for the next game.....
Very well written. Bootsy, in particlular, rubs his hands feverishly all the time LOL.
Well, these weren't exactly Hobgoblins, so you can continue to mock them if you so choose, unless you mean goblinoid races in general.
I want to say you were down for a total of 3 rounds, the last round being the non-combat round everyone was trying to save you at -9.
Bootsy's 2 crits in a row with a crossbow certainly helped bring that combat to an end.
Well, these weren't exactly Hobgoblins, so you can continue to mock them if you so choose, unless you mean goblinoid races in general.
I want to say you were down for a total of 3 rounds, the last round being the non-combat round everyone was trying to save you at -9.
Bootsy's 2 crits in a row with a crossbow certainly helped bring that combat to an end.
Ahhh yes, Bootsy in his sorcerous wisdom has chosen to advance even further in the spontaneous arcane arts, and as such was able to learn a new spell, spraying forth a blasting cone of fire when he rubs his burning hands together....Bootsy has also learned how to better hit things that are less than 30 feet away with his crossbow, and purchased a fistful (only ten really bootsy has small fists) of superbly crafted bolts for his favorite toy.
Ahhh yes, Bootsy in his sorcerous wisdom has chosen to advance even further in the spontaneous arcane arts, and as such was able to learn a new spell, spraying forth a blasting cone of fire when he rubs his burning hands together....Bootsy has also learned how to better hit things that are less than 30 feet away with his crossbow, and purchased a fistful (only ten really bootsy has small fists) of superbly crafted bolts for his favorite toy.
Geat! I'm sure your companions (in their armor, pitted from splashing acid) will be thrilled to hear you've learned a spell with an area of effect!
Bootsy loves his x-bow. ("Magic Missile? Bah, this is worth any two magic missiles!" As he lovingly polishes his heavy crossbow.)
Geat! I'm sure your companions (in their armor, pitted from splashing acid) will be thrilled to hear you've learned a spell with an area of effect!
Bootsy loves his x-bow. ("Magic Missile? Bah, this is worth any two magic missiles!" As he lovingly polishes his heavy crossbow.)
Everyone Duck!!!!! (picture the lucky charm leprechaun hurling something)
I had this rolling aorund in my noggin for a day or two...
Softly, the elf made his way through the forest overlooking the burned remains of the cabin. Smoke still drifted upward although no fires were now apparent in the husk of the ruined home. His nose picked up the scent of burned flesh and he stepped from the trees, his bow drawn tight. He saw a few crows waiting patiently in the high pines then his eye was drawn to some movement near the corner of the building. He heard a soft crying and lowered his bow as he strode to the form lying in the ashy mud.
The body appeared human or elven from its size but was crumpled in a heap and shaking. As he reached out to touch the shoulder, it jerked and cried out in a woman’s voice. He whispered soothing words that summoned the power of his god, Solonor, and calmed the woman. Turning her over, he realized there was little he could do for her. A large wound stretched from should to chest, and her life blood was leeching from her even as he watched.
“Gobliss,” she whispered hoarsely, “Mir….”
Her voiced trailed away as she died.
Sighing, he looked around and saw a smaller form, also crumpled and not moving a few feet away. Arrows, crudely designed, but obviously too efficient, protruded from the child’s back.
Gritting his teeth, the elf, a low ranking member of the Hawkeyes, or priests of Solonor, collected the woman and her daughter and covered them with his cloak. The remains of a human male were found hacked apart inside the border of pines, a bloody woodsman axe lay nearby with four goblin carcasses strewn about. At least he took some with him, Celtir thought.
The priest shook his head, and brought the man alongside his wife and child. He proceeded to bury them with a shovel he found in the wreckage of their home. A couple more goblin bodies were inside the cabin. At the edge of the cabin’s clearing, he was just finishing his prayer to the woodland gods when he heard the snarl behind him and a titter accompany it.
His holy symbol, a part of his long bow, had never left his hand. With a fluid motion he swept an arrow from his quiver on the ground, and let fly an arrow. He took a goblin rider high on the forehead and it fell from the back of the wolfish creature it was riding. Celtir suspected it was glancing blow off the helmet but he didn’t wait. Another arrow sped toward the wolf, which was charging him. It took the hit in the shoulder and stumbled as the priest fired a third shot. This hit the wolf in the ribs and it slumped, whining.
“By the Damned Branch, will you die,” he hissed as he released another arrow, ending the beast’s suffering. The crack of branches brought him up and he noticed the goblin rider was running into the forest crying out loud. Answering cries came to Celtir’s ears, too many to be a fair fight. Just the way goblins like it.
Glancing back at the mounds and hoping they would remain intact, he slipped into the forest, continuing on toward Kingsholm.
"No, a giant gnome you say? I've ne'r heard o' tha likes o' tha'!" Bootsy answered the barkeep solemnly and with a genuinely interested look on his ruddy face. He stood on a bar stool finishing his ale and knowing it was time to move further out. He'd always lived on the outskirts of town, maybe Kingsholm would be the place to settle down you can't get much farther away than that.
"Yeah, I thought the one eyed man had lost it when he told me he came home to find his wife in bed with a six foot tall gnome, who'd then proceeded to shoot out his eye and run away." The barkeep said. "Sounds to me like the poor guy must've lost it."
Bootsy nodded his agreement. The damn blacksmith was persistent normally once he made it out of town the husbands stopped looking. Oh well it was probably for the best, even with the discount Grand Wizard Enzyte gave him the enlarge potions could be expensive, and eventually the novelty of bedding down with a giant gnome wears thin, she would've gone back to her husband in another few days anyway!!! Bootsy finished his ale and turned to hop off his stool when their eyes met.
"YOU!!!" The blacksmith yelled, Bootsy realizing the jig was up hastilly blurted out a summoning spell, however in his drunken state the angry dog he meant to cause a distraction became a screeching monkey. Still he had to make due with what he had as he hopped onto the bar and ran across it deftly hopping out the open window at the end.
"Get it off my head!!" The blacksmith could be heard shouting as bootsy ran down the street as fast as his short legs could take him. Ahead a merchant heading towards Kingsholm was just climbing into the driver's seat of his cart.
"You there!" Bootsy called out. "Five gold for a ride to Kingsholm!" The merchant nodded at the gnome and Bootsy ambled up the wheel and into the back of the cart. "If the crazy guy with the patch comes this way I'm not here!!" Bootsy exclaimed as he nestled in between two crates and settled in for the ride. Behind him the commotion in the bar had drawn a crowd and the angry one-eyed blacksmith was wiping monkey crap out of his hair and stumbling about crying vengeance, the cart pulled away and the merchant snickered as he goaded his horse on out of town, five gold was five gold!
"Hey?" Bootsy asked as the din of town faded away, "how much you getting a bottle for this acid, and how long a ride is it to Kingholm?"
Last edited by Peteinmaine; 26th January 2008 at 02:50 AM..
“More undead!” Celtir cried out, boldly stepping toward the dark pit and presenting his holy symbol.
“Very ing funny,” grumbled Bootsy, as he wearily pulled himself out of the hole. Bootsy and Wencis had done their best to clean up, but there was only so much that could be done without proper facilities.
Together again, the companions made a quick search of the area, finding a chest with some rather nice armor and, more importantly, a rain barrel, which Bootsy and Wencis put to good use. The others packed up their loot in preparation for the trip back to Kingsholm.
Frankie looked back at the two washing at the barrel, “Now you only look half dead and half drowned.”
“I think half dead and half drowned makes you all dead,” Wencis commented.
Once they reached town, they couldn’t help but notice the villagers quickly pulling their children away and crossing to the opposite side of the street as they made their way back to the Coronet and Cabbage. Upon entering the inn, all conversation stopped and all eyes were upon the companions.
Bootsy spread his arms, to let the patrons see his blood stained robes and said, “This is what happens when you piss off the gnome.” He then looked to the innkeeper, “Two baths if you would… and is there any chance we could get some clean clothes sent up?” The shocked expression never left the innkeepers face as he slowly nodded.
Celtir chimed in, “You might as well make it four baths. We’ve all had a hard morning.” After they had gone upstairs, the conversation in the common room started up once more with twice the enthusiasm.
The rest of the afternoon was spent getting cleaned and healed. When they all felt presentable again, they finally made their way back to the common room. The crowd seemed even larger then it had been and the companions couldn’t help but feel the looks they were receiving were… expectant. Ignoring the looks and seeing no free tables, the party decided now was a good time to unload some of the goods they had salvaged.
“Could you pick up some masterwork bolts for me crossbow when you go to sell the swag?” asked Bootsy.
“You’re not coming with us?” asked Wencis.
“Nah, got some stuff to do, magic stuff, you would nay understand.”
“Well, don’t cause more damage then we can afford,” Celtir answered.
Small flames were already dancing across Bootsy’s fingers as he started back up the stairs. “Don’t you worry too much lad,” he said to no one in particular, “They haven’t removed the bathwater yet.”
A short time later, the barkeep sniffed the air. “Sara,” he called to one of the serving girls, “Could you check the kitchen? I think the suppers burning.”
----------
Early the next morning they were ready to strike out once again at the evils infesting the Barrow. Another uneventful trek to the graveyard, a short time climbing down the hole and the companions once again found themselves back in the hexagonal room. The only obvious path was a set of double doors on the western wall. Celtir stepped up and opened the doors. Beyond was a short hall, devoid of any furniture or feature except for two doors on the western wall. Stepping forward once again, Celtir pulled on the northern door. It didn’t budge.
Frankie, flexing his muscles and smiling, stepped up, “Here, let me give it a try.” Once again, the door did not budge.
Wencis stepped forward, “Having a little trouble?” He gave the door a quick tug, “Let’s try the other one.”
Together, Frankie and Celtir tried one more time to open the northern door but the door still would not open.
As they were moving to try the southern door, Bootsy ran to the front. “Here, let a real man open this door,” he said as he moved to the northern door. Grabbing the handle, he braced against the wall next to the door with one leg and gave a mighty tug. “Aye, that door ain’t openin’ for no one.” Celtir stepped up to the southern door.
Beyond was a short hall, with a ladder that descended to the south. The corridor seemed to continue to the west at the bottom of the ladder. Once the companions had climbed down, they found themselves standing in a room divided by swiftly running water. Across the water they could see steep stairs that lead up to a balcony and a closed stone door. On either side of the channel there were four statues of soldiers with shields at their feet, swords raised in salute. Two of the statues on the near side had been smashed and near the rubble lay two dead goblinoids. A narrow bridge connected the two sides of the room. Wencis went to investigate the bodies as Celtir checked the rubble of the statues. As Wencis rifled through the belongings, he noticed the blackened and swollen skin of the creatures and interrupted Celtir’s search of the rubble. “What do you make of this?”
Celtir stepped over to the bodies and knelt to inspect them. “Cold. Frostbite and hypothermia I suspect.”
Looking at the equipment looted from the bodies Frankie noted, “All their stuff seems to be here, even some potions. Either this is the last of them, or their friends left in a hurry.”
Wencis had stepped back from the bodies, bringing him close to the bridge. All the companions heard a quiet sound, as if something was moving through the water. Looking back at the channel they saw that a serpent of water had risen from the channel near the bridge.
“Well, that’s a little weird,” said Frankie.
“More intruders. Be gone from here defilers or pay the price of your folly as have those before you!” the Serpent commanded. “Go back the way you have come, leave the dead in peace!”
Bootsy was wondering how well fire might work against water creatures and Frankie was reaching for his axe when Celtir stepped forward. “Greetings noble guardian. We are seeking the defilers of this place of rest, so that they may be eliminated and peace can be returned to the dead.”
The serpent, apparently flattered by Celtir’s polite address, rose a little higher from the water for a moment, “Those you seek have gone through the door to the north. Go forth and destroy those who have defiled this place. Good luck on your quest.” With these words the serpent slipped beneath the water once again.
The others watched the scene with shocked expressions. “We’re talkin’ to monsters now are we? What is this world coming to?” Bootsy mumbled as they all started across the bridge.
Celtir just smiled, “A little diplomacy can go a long way.”
Bootsy gave a short laugh, “So can a crossbow bolt.”
Beyond the door Celtir found a passage that angled away to the northwest. Four statues stood along the eastern wall before four vaults, a female mage with a staff held high, a dwarf brandishing a symbol of Moradin and two elves, which looked almost identical. One held a bow, the other a rapier and a dagger. Across the hall from the statues, there was a stone door. At the far end of the hall stood another door, two polished black statues of warriors on either side of it, their halberd crossed over the door. As the others moved to inspect the statues along the eastern wall, Wencis moved to the door across from the statues. “Let’s see where this goes,” he said as he pulled it open. Beyond the door, two short sets of stairs led down to the south and appeared to lead to a small room.
Frankie took the lead and moved cautiously down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs he found himself in a small, clean chamber and the statue of a robed man holding a book open in front of him. There was a flat stone door just before it on the south wall. Behind him he heard Wencis, “It’s always good to check and see if there is anything written in books held by statues.” Frankie thought this sounded reasonable and stepped forward to allow Wencis into the room to inspect the statue. The moment he stepped into the room, a rat-like humanoid that was hidden in a dark corner lashed out with a rapier, piercing Frankie in the arm. Momentarily stunned by this unexpected attack, Frankie was caught off guard by another attack from the creature. He moved his axe to try to knock away the thin blade, but realized too late that this was a ruse to put him out of position to defend from the real strike that pierced his left shoulder.
Frankie reacted quickly. Seeing the tight quarters here, he turned, grabbed Wencis and pulled him along, back up the stairs to the hall up above. Bootsy, hearing the ruckus on the stairs and footfalls approaching, readied his crossbow.
Once they reached the top with the creature close behind, Bootsy let fly his bolt which sailed past the creature. Frustrated by his missed shot he started to reload. Celtir’s shot with his bow also went wide of its mark, striking the wall next to the beast. The creature struck again with its rapier, piercing Frankie in the back. Blood seeping from his wounds, Frankie brought his axe around full circle, the blade slicing through the creature’s abdomen almost completely eviscerating it. The shocked creature brought his free hand across his belly in an attempt to hold in his entrails. Bootsy and Celtir again missed with their shots and it was Wencis’ Soul Spark that finally brought the combat to an end. The energy from its attack struck the creature in the head. His blade slipped from his grasp and he fell to the floor.
As they watched, the rat-like creature’s features began to twist and change before their eyes, until they saw it was a hobgoblin that lay on the floor, dead.
Celtir and Wencis knelt to examine the body. “Were-rat,” said Celtir. “Good thing no one was bitten.”
Gathering the creature's equipment, Celtir held up a key, “I wonder what this goes to? Better keep it somewhere safe.”
After the body was thoroughly looted, Wencis and Frankie again returned to the small room at the bottom of the stars. Wencis stepped up to check the book. The page seemed to swim before his eyes then clearly read –
Two as one can win the day,
The one with two shows the way,
Brave the blade and break the seal,
Twist the knife it will reveal.
“A poem worthy of the great bard E.G. Gygax,” Wencis stated with a smile. Turning to Frankie he asked, “Didn’t one of the elves upstairs have two blades? A dagger and a rapier, right?”
“I think so,” Frankie answered. “I’ll go check.”
As Frankie went back upstairs, Wencis called to him, “If it does, try twisting the dagger.”
Sure enough, one of the Elven twins held two blades. Frankie stepped up to the statue and twisted the dagger. It rotated easily and a grinding sound was heard from the bottom of the stairs. Wencis called up to his companions, “The vault door has opened!”
Frankie came back down as Wencis stepped toward the sarcophagus that was within the vault. “I may need some help with this, these things can be pretty heavy,” he said. Surprisingly, the lid pivoted easily and Wencis peered in. He smiled as he pulled the items from the sarcophagus. Each was an exquisitely crafted item, a finely woven tabard, a masterwork rapier and quiver and a set of leather bracers. There was also a rolled up scroll with the items.
The others quickly came down and Celtir cast Detect Magic. “They are all magical, except the scroll.” Bootsy’s face fell. He had been grinning and reaching for the scroll with high hopes.
“A non-magical scroll? Whoever heard of such a thing,” he grumbled as he unrolled it. “It’s Draconic,” he said looking at the writing. “‘We who rest still long to serve. If you seek the same, take our goods and be blessed. If greed moved this stone and not a true heart, may our curse find you ere we awake.’ Hmm, a little from column A, a little from column B. I wonder where that leaves us.” He looked at the others and shrugged. “I think we technically qualify as ‘The Good Guys.’”
The others nodded their agreement. Celtir put on the tabard and the quiver, Bootsy put on the bracers and, at the suggestion of the others, Frankie took the rapier, though he couldn’t quite comprehend why anyone would wield such a dainty weapon. Celtir reassured him, “It’ll be good to have, you know, just in case your axe is hitting a creature but doesn’t seem to be doing any damage.” Frankie wasn’t sure what Celtir was getting at, but nodded his head and took the blade anyway. “If you really decide you don’t want it, I’ll get it from you later,” Celtir added.
After the new-found equipment was stowed, they moved up to the northern door. Celtir tried the door. “I think it’s stuck. Frankie, give me a hand here.”
“Maybe there’s a secret release or something,” said Wencis stepping forward to examine the area around the door.
“Maybe it’s locked and the key we found on rat-boy will open it,” said Bootsy.
The others stopped in their tracks. “Um. Yeah, I’d forgotten about that,” Celtir said, his face turning a little red. “Now that you mention it, it does seem to just be locked.”
Weirds, Lycanthropes and Undead Minions. (Oh my!) Part 2
Unlocking the door and ducking under the halberds, the companions moved on. The open door revealed a hall that seemed to go both east and west a short distance before turning north at each end. Bootsy and Frankie went west while the other two went east. “There’s a ladder going down here,” Bootsy called to the others.
“Same here,” Wencis called back. “There are also some statues of human warriors and a Minotaur standing in front of some looted vaults.”
Bootsy and Frankie went down on one side while Wencis and Celtir went down the other. Wencis was about to join Celtir in examining the statues when he heard muttering coming from down the hall and around the corner to the west. At the same time Bootsy heard it as well, coming from down the hall and around the corner to the east of where they were. “Spellcasting,” he whispered to Frankie, “Or your mothers a gnome.”
“But my mothers a dwarf,” the literal minded Dwarf whispered back.
“That’s what I mean, it’s someone casting a spell,” answered Bootsy. Seeing Frankie’s confused look, Bootsy just shook his head and motioned him forward.
“There it is again,” whispered Celtir, “More casting.”
On both sides, the companions moved slowly down the hall, stopping to listen from time to time. When they reached the end of the hall, Bootsy pulled out one of the bottles from his bandoleer that was loaded with vials. He looked to Frankie with a smile and Frankie knew that Bootsy had one of those ideas. Bootsy poured the oil on the floor at the end of the corridor.
Meanwhile Wencis and Celtir snuck down the short hall at the end of the corridor that joined the eastern passage to the west. A broken door stood to the north, a ladder there descended into darkness. They moved toward an opening in the western part of the wall. Peeking around the corner Celtir saw a room full of animated skeletons. One of them, towering above the rest, was made from the bones of a Minotaur. At the back, behind a fountain carved in the shape of a golden dragon, was a hobgoblin in breastplate armor that had obviously been waiting for someone to come around the corner. The Hobgoblin quickly cast a spell and magical fear filled Celtir’s heart. He turned and ran to the end of the corridor and hid in the corner of the largest vault, cursing all the while.
The four human skeletons ran out and swarmed around Wencis and his Souls Spark in the eastern part of the corridor. His armor deflected most of the attacks as they slashed at him with their boney hands. The Spark, however, was slashed multiple times by the skeletons around it. The two of them lashed back at the skeletons, destroying one of them. Bootsy threw another vial of oil into the corner of the corridor for good measure.
Frankie finally stepped out, slashing at the large skeleton that was now standing at the entrance to the room, his axe chipping away at the creatures legs. A dog appeared next to him as Bootsy summoned some help. The dog nipped at the feet of the skeletal Minotaur, but was unable to bite the creature.
The large skeleton slashed at the dog with his claw-like hands. Almost torn completely apart by the skeletal claws, the dog disappeared back to its home plane. Suddenly, a disembodied flail appeared next to Frankie and struck him on his left side.
Bootsy stepped around the corner, a fan of flames leaping from his fingertips, burning at the lower half of the skeleton. The hobgoblin cast another spell, this time Bootsy felt a wave of doom crash over his shoulders, but was able to shrug off the feeling just as quickly. His fingers still smoking, he used just one to gesture back at the hobgoblin.
Wencis and his Soul Spark dropped two more of the skeletons. Celtir, finally able to overcome the magical fear that had compelled him to flee, came running out of the vault, eager to make up for lost time. Stopping by Wencis and his Soul Spark he cast a quick spell, touching himself and others quickly, he explained, “The undead can no longer see us, we can move among them so long as you do not make any contact with them. Let us try to deal directly with the one that has created these abominations.”
With only Bootsy and Frankie visible to the undead, the last remaining human skeleton started to move back to the other end of the hall. Bootsy moved away from them, being careful not to slip on the oil he had poured all over this area.
Both skeletons, big and small, lashed at Frankie, their claws digging deep into his flesh. Anger flashing in his eyes, Frankie slashed at the large skeleton again, chipping away at the bone a little more. Bootsy cast, summoning another dog to appear next to the cleric that had moved up to strike at Frankie. Celtir and Wencis wound their way through the remaining undead, taking up positions to strike at the evil cleric. Celtir struck from a distance using his bow, Wencis closed to melee with the hobgoblin.
The dark flail struck Frankie once more then disappeared. Both skeletons also struck at Frankie, their claws raking over his flesh. Frankie had had quite enough. He raised his great axe above his head, and fell over backwards, unconscious.
Seeing the human skeleton looking in his direction, Bootsy ran around the corner and readied his spell, eager to spring his oil trap. The skeleton followed him closely, cutting the corner and avoiding the oil. “Son if a bitch!” He exclaimed as he cast forth a sheet of flames, igniting the oil behind the skeleton. “Of all the mindless undead out there, I get the one that cuts corners!” The face full of flames seemed to confuse the skeleton and it stopped where it was, as if momentarily disoriented.
Celtir, Wencis and the Soul Spark unloaded on the evil cleric with everything they had. Unfortunately luck was not with them. Every shot, every swing seemed to miss. Those that landed were mere scratches. The cleric was wearing them down and the skeletal Minotaur had come around the room in an attempt to defend the evil cleric.
Bootsy finished off his skeletal adversary with a crossbow bolt to the skull, the skeleton crashed to the floor in pieces. Reloading, he came around the corner and fired a bolt into the melee but the shot missed all combatants. The Minotaur skeleton tried to move through the space occupied by Wencis and, realizing something was there, slashed at him. The creature was confounded by not being able to see him directly, but was able to land a single blow. Celtir moved back and poured a potion into Frankie in hopes of bringing him around. Though his bleeding slowed, he did not regain consciousness.
The combined attacks against the evil cleric were finally starting to show. Blood streamed from numerous wounds and he seemed to be weakening. Bootsy drew a bead on him and caught him in the shoulder with a bolt. With the Hobgoblin distracted by the pain, the Soul Spark was able to strike the cleric with its energy attack. Fortune was starting to turn.
Celtir mumbled a prayer to heal more of Frankie’s injuries, finally rousing him. Frankie drank another potion, and then got angry. Really angry. Frothing at the mouth and spitting blood, he ran forward to avenge the injuries he had suffered at the hands of the cleric and his giant undead creature. Venting his rage, his axe sliced deep into the clerics shoulder. The Hobgoblin looked at Frankie in momentary disbelief and then fell to the floor.
All eyes turned toward the undead Minotaur. Bootsy and Celtir launched their missiles, the bolt and arrow both glancing off the bones of the creature. Wencis and the Soul Spark struck it as well, both cracking bones with their attacks. The skeleton slashed at the Spark, ripping away at its essence. The bonds that tied it to this plane broken, it slowly dissipated. Frankie turned, his rage still burning, and struck the skeleton a mighty blow with his axe. The bones crashed to the ground, the Minotaur was finally at peace once more.
The exhausted companions looked around at each other, barely able to believe the long battle was finally over. Looking at the dead cleric, Bootsy simply said, “Well… Let’s see what he’s got.”
----------
Looking at the piece of paper looted from the cleric, Bootsy said, with more then a little sarcasm, “A draft for 500 gold coins from the temple of the Scourge of Battle. Great, if we ever come across one, we’re rich.”
Collecting up the rest of the equipment from the dead cleric, Celtir cast one of his few remaining spells to see if there was any magic. “His weapon and the potion.” He was just about to suggest returning to the town when he noticed something else. “The fountain.” Everyone looked from him to the fountain, then back to him once more with a confused look on their faces. “It’s magical.”
Linear Mode
And yet another word from our sponsors
