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!
Our heroes dispatched the ogres with aplomb and hurried forward, seeking Ingen Jager. They found him, broken and half-boiled in the ogres’ stewpot.
“He died well,” Lady Charlotte said.
Lochenvare snorted. “Told you he needed somethin’ to fight with.”
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted. The ogres, it seemed, had not been alone. A sudden battle cry- ”Mynar!!!”- came from behind the party, and even as they turned to face their new foes they realized belatedly that they were in a fair amount of trouble. A cone of cold of such blistering intensity that it almost killed several of the party! Charlotte collapsed, as did the gnome.
Teeth chattering from the rime of frost now covering them, the party swung about to face their attackers, and one of them sprang forward, dealing a daunting blow to Lochenvare with a cruelly-spiked flail. Behind him, the other human made a gesture and suddenly sprouted mirror images. And rushing forward, passing him by, came another troupe of goblins!
“Sleep!” Dexter commanded the fellow with the images, but the robed man snarled and shook the spell off. He began to make spellcasting gestures, and Malford watched helplessly as a volley of magic missiles sprang into his young friend Dexter.
Five missiles, Malford thought grimly. He’s a potent spellcaster- far more potent than I. Swiftly, he intoned the words to an invisibility spell and began maneuvering into position to perform a backstab on the wizard.
Lochenvare, meanwhile, was beginning to overpower his foe. The goblins were a distraction, but his heavy plate armor turned most of their blows. The human was more dangerous, and Lochenvare determined to change that situation as quickly as he could. His axe whistled into the man’s side with a sick ‘thunk,’ and he collapsed to one knee, groaning. With a smug grin, Lochenvare brought his axe down again.
The others dueled with the goblins, but now that Lochenvare’s attentions were free, he was certain to make short work of them. But what about the wizard...?
Just then a burst of flame enveloped the multiple images, and the wizard yelled in pain. Then there was a flurry of motion as Malford’s two-handed attacks pierced him again and again. A few minutes later it was all over.
Lochenvare grunted, surveying the carnage.
***
After ascertaining that whatever the humans had been up to was done- surely it must have been something no good- our heroes traveled along their way. The next morning Malford announced that they needed a day’s rest so that he could try to identify the items the humans had carried that he had detected to be magical.
It turned out that they had acquired a ring of protection from blades, a potion of flying and a pair of gloves of mirror image. Dexter took the gloves, which would serve him well for almost his entire life.
Next Time: The first appearance of the Temple of Elemental Evil in Cydra!
Dexter Nadly (priest 2)
Lady Charlotte Keen (paladin 1)
Malford the Magnificent (thief 6/illusionist 5)
Lochenvare (fighter 3)
Plus 3 random pcs who were only there for one (or, in one case, two) games and thus have remained hitherto unmentioned:
Mikal the White (fighter/mage 1/1)
Jakal (ranger 1)
Aulkon the Weak (thief 1)
Strewn (mage 1)
Though I usually try to give passing reference to passing pcs in the story hour (witness Oedipus), these guys didn't really do anything that I recall; they may have been involved in one (or possibly two?) fights at most in the next update, but I don't think any of them are ever seen again. *shrugs* Just thought I'd mention them here for the sake of completeness.
Also note that Dex, under 2ed rules, is dual classed and has the abilities of a 5th-level psionicist.
Malford poked at the fire. It was still small, but it was quickly growing. He tossed a few more pieces of kindling on it, warming his fingers over it, thinking about breakfast.
A heavy sigh emitted from the lump of bedding that contained Dexter. He never wanted to get up early enough to get an early start. Malford shook his head, smiling to himself. At least the kid was still alive.
The gnome turned to the ring in his hand, emblazoned with an odd triangle. Not magical, yet... something about it...
Lochenvare joined him at the fire, bringing a skin of wine with him. “Morning,” he said. Malford nodded to him, deep in contemplation.
Finally, “I think we should go back to that stone block.”
Lochenvare looked at him in surprise. “Why?”
Malford tossed him the ring. “There were several of these in there, on various things- one of the ogres, those guys we thought were maybe adventurers, the lead goblin...” He looked at Lochenvare. “There was nothing actually happening in there. They were part of some kind of cult, but we missed the real action. I’m convinced of it.”
The big fighter nodded slowly. “All right, sounds good to me. Just as long as there’s something to kill.”
***
Noon, 9/4/96 O.L.G.
There was a secret trap door in a room beneath the stone block that only turned up after a search that included moving the goblin bedding. Our heroes gathered around it and Dexter threw it open while Lochenvare held himself at the ready; but what was revealed was a passage.
After a brief scouting foray by Malford that turned up no immediate sign of danger, the group dropped into the hall and began exploring- and, unknown to them, the very rings that Malford had been examining the morning before, were the keys the group needed. One step past a certain part of the passage and they passed through an invisible portal and to a dreadful set of passages, rooms and halls beneath a ruined temple.
Not that they knew that, of course.
Almost immediately as the group moved along they encountered a room full of guards. These were dispatched handily, and Charlotte frowned at the strange symbols they bore. “Evil cultists,” she muttered, distaste evident in her voice.
Lochenvare grinned. “Whatever, as long as we get to kill ‘em.” She grimaced at him.
The band of adventurers tore through several more rooms of guards with ease. The bandits they faced, used to bullying peasants and halflings, were no match for a band of ogre-slaying adventurers. Charlotte’s holy wrath terrified the guards; and the expression of lust on Lochenvare’s face as he cut through them almost broke more than one band of guards. But whatever fear they felt of him was not enough to break the hold of the terror they felt of their masters; and the guards fought to the death.
Numerous minor wounds and cuts were on the party by this time; their major wounds had already been healed by Dexter’s relatively new clerical talents to bruises and abrasions. Nonetheless, nearly out of spells, they retired back to the surface (again unknowingly passing through the portal) and rested up for a couple of days. Then they descended again to do more of the same.
They found ample evidence that this place, whatever it was, had once thrived with more activity. Abandoned armories, occasional rotten stores of food, thick layers of dust and cobwebs- all swore to the fact that once, this place had been much more thickly inhabited.
Then the group ran into a room hosting a pair of gnolls, led by a dazzlingly handsome man in full plate and shield embossed with a scarlet flame. His green eyes burned with the intensity of the mad. The room was smoky with the vapor from a dozen braziers that burned. At one end of the chamber was a huge pit of blazing flame. “There!” the fire cultist screamed. “Get them!” –and the gnolls raced forward to engage our heroes.
While the party dealt with his lackeys, the evil elementalist priest- for so he was- cast a fire shield. Then he turned to the great pit of fire and began raving weird nonsense-sounding syllables. And the fire seemed to respond- a great serpent of fire started to emerge!
Our heroes by this time were ready for the cultist, however. Malford warned the others, “Don’t hit him directly! That fire shield will burn you if you do!”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” growled Lochenvare, waving his cutlass threateningly as the elementalist drew his mace and moved in to attack. Lochenvare parried, then grinned as a series of arrows and stones whacked the man.
“You fools!” the elementalist raved. “The element of fire will consume you all!”
The serpent of fire lashed out, grabbing Lochenvare. He yelled as it drew him into its blazing coils.
“Uh-oh,” muttered Dexter, and lashed out with his staff of combat despite the dangers of the fire shield.
Clunk!
“Stoneskins,” groaned Malford.*
The party danced with the elementalist, throwing things, shooting arrows, casting spells (Burning hands probably won’t work too well against this guy, Malford thought ironically).
It was a difficult battle. Lochenvare struggled to free himself from the constricting tendril of fire, and Malford managed to dispel it and free him. Meanwhile Lady Charlotte fired her crossbow at the foe again and again while Dexter drew him on about the chamber.
Hmm, Malford thought desperately, what if he isn’t warded against fire? His fire shield looks to ward against cold- which is logical- but...
Desperate, he sprang close to the man and cast his burning hands at him.
Rubis- the elementalist in question- gave out a yell of pain. Gotcha! thought Malford. Then, suddenly, there was a terrible explosion. Malford threw himself flat, avoiding the worst of the blast, but Rubis was not so lucky. He had worn a flask of oil of fiery burning and it had been caught by the spell; he could not survive that.
The party backed off while his body blazed. When it finally burned out, they searched his remains and found that a pair of potions had somehow survived (not so a few other items). They took them and, badly wounded, retired.
On their way out, Lady Charlotte commented, “This place is evil to the core.”
Dexter nodded. “I can’t help but have the feeling that something bad is going to happen here.”
The group, still oblivious to its existence, passed through the portal once again and returned to their camp site.
Indeed, though he wouldn’t know it for another few days, Dexter was very right: something was to happen there that would change him forever. Something terrible.
*In 2e, stoneskin made you pretty well immune to a certain number of physical attacks.
Rajah and his four bodyguards began their dangerous journey from Wotan to Thule.
Dorhaus was a huge landmass compared to anything else in the Near-Forinthian Region. The only thing of comparable size was Valonia, and Valonia was hardly inhabited by humankind at all. Here, on Dorhaus, was where many of the existing human territories were. The continent was almost squarish in shape, with a long seam of mountains that ran from its northernmost reaches down the center of the continent, splitting it roughly in two. The eastern side was almost completely taken up by the sprawling lands of Imperial Wotan and its dependants, the Prince’s Hold, the Barony of Goldstone and so forth. Directly across Wotan’s northern border was the Kingdom of Chorania, which, while not technically a dependant of Wotan, was too close to be anything else but a satellite. North of Chorania was its traditional foe, the Kingdom of Bemvia. Bemvia was, of course, was thick with Thule out of self-interest; with Wotan behind Chorania, Bemvia needed a counter-balance.
To the west of the Bendrock Mountains there were two major forces: the Kingdom of Thule- Wotan’s constant foil- and the fey folk and half-elven states. Greater Ketzia, as the north was then known- was a place few humans dared go. It was said that the fey folk ran through the entire north and loved nothing better than tricking humans into getting lost, stealing their babies, hunting folk, and so forth. The half-elven lands of Moire and Morraine took up the northwest of the continent, and they were thickly tied to the Ketzians. How thickly, no one knew.
The journey to Thule from Wotan naturally required either travel by sea- a very dangerous proposition, with the Imperial forces on the lookout for Rajah- or a trip through the mountains. Though dangerous as well, at least in this case the dangers were less Imperial in nature and more likely to come from native humanoids or monsters.
At least, that’s what General Rygarh had told Rajah.
The journey to the mountains took a week; then the group started to move upward. At least there had been no sign of pursuit.
***
3:30 pm, 6/28/96 O.L.G., the Bendrock Mountains
Grunting, the last of Rajah’s assigned bodyguards pulled himself up onto a ledge.
The group was breathing hard, but they were making good progress. Rajah asked, “Where’s the border?”
Shendros, the half-elven fighter/mage assigned to Rajah, shook his head. Wryly, he answered, “It depends on whose troops are closer. The border between Wotan and Thule isn’t really demarcated in the mountains, and even if it was, it wouldn’t be honored much.”
Rajah pondered this for a moment. “I don’t really know the geography here- what about the border where there aren’t mountains? Might it be easier to pass through there?”
“It’s a wall, M’Lord,” Proctor answered. Proctor was a human abjurer. “Believe me, the mountains are our best way of going undetected.”
Rajah nodded. He glanced back at the peaks they’d already navigated through and shook his head. “Well, let’s keep going, then.”
They moved forward about another mile before the ambush.
Suddenly there were cries in orcish, and a troop of humanoids rushing down the slope at them. “Behind me, M’Lord!” cried Proctor, and he began calling out mystic syllables and trying to ward Rajah with his spells. The other three bodyguards, weary but willing, drew steel.
“Get them!” a voice roared in Forinthian, and Rajah gasped as he saw the half-elven figure on the hill.
Elcruche! he thought, and then there was no more time for thought; the orcs were there. Rajah sprang forward, ripping his thick claw-like nails along one’s face, but another, wearing the black sun of Bleak, stepped up, some sort of large cube in his hand. The bodyguards surged forward. Rajah tried to spring to the side.
The orc cackled wickedly, holding the cube up, and Rajah felt a sudden moment of disorientation. His bodyguards gasped as he vanished. “My Lord!” shrieked Werelith, the halfling, and then grunted as one of the orcs’ scimitars nearly got through to her.
“Run!” cried Shendros, and the bodyguards broke.
Still chuckling, the orcish cleric turned as Rajah’s companions fled, and with a single great blow of his axe he brought Proctor down. The abjurer groaned as he rolled on the ground. He could feel his blood pouring all over him from his back, somewhere, and his legs didn’t seem to work. My Lord, the thought sickly, I’ve failed you. I’m sorry. Then the orc’s axe finished him off.
Rajah found himself stumbling within a small featureless room. The walls were translucent though, so he took a look around him to see if he could ascertain what had happened.
__________________ Robert Blezard I write; therefore, I am!
D&D v.3.5, d20 Modern, OSRIC, Pathfinder, True20... OGL Forever! Walk the Road
Avatar by Sialia
3:30 pm, 6/28/96 O.L.G., the Bendrock Mountains, Dorhaus
Elcruche surveyed the area. Rajah’s bodyguards had fled, except for the one that the orcish cleric had killed. As for Rajah himself...
“Did you get him?” Elcruche demanded.
In reply, grinning a tusky grin, the orc held up his cube of captivity. A tiny figure squirmed within it. With a laugh, the orc gave the cube a shake.
***
“Ow!” Rajah cursed, tumbling head over heels. Shaken, he regained his feet and examined himself. He was a little bruised, but nothing worse. He’d had worse falls from the trees back in the jungles of Gorel, but the problem wasn’t the fall- it was the ‘stuck in a cube’ part of things.
Rajah squatted on his haunches and peered through the translucent walls of the cube.
Hells, why not? he thought, and dimension doored out, as far away as he could.
He stumbled, stunned and momentarily disoriented. Then, as he regained his senses, he could hear Elcruche shouting search orders and orcish roars and grunts of anger. Rajah smiled. How’s that for a burr under the saddle? he thought, grinning, and glanced around.
He was still small.
He’d been afraid of this. Now a hawk, a snake, even a rat could be a deadly danger. He would find mud puddles to be like lakes, little rises like hills, hills like mountains. A spider web might be able to hold him!
Well, at least Elcruche and his cronies would have a hard time finding him... but so might his bodyguards. How the hell was he going to get back together with them?
Then he slapped his forehead. Of course.
He shuffled out his trumps, gazed at the one depicting Shendros, concentrated. After a few moments the image began to gather depth and the card grew cold. Shendros’ image sprang forth before Rajah, as if he were right there.
“My Lord!” he cried.
In the background behind her, Rajah could see his other surviving bodyguards. Somewhere not too distant something much bigger than him was crashing through the dry brush that dotted the mountainside. “I got away,” he said quickly. “Pull me through to you, quick!”
***
Rajah- reduced to a height of roughly half a foot- and his bodyguards debated their next course glumly. Obviously, the Wotanians had very good information- provided by spies, divination magic or both. The mountains were clearly not safe, at least not until they crossed over to the Thulian-patrolled areas. And being anywhere close to where they were now was clearly very dangerous- Elcruche himself was in the area!
The remaining bodyguards seemed both frightened and extremely respectful of Elcruche, almost in awe. He was, they told Rajah, the head of the Wotan Intelligence Service, extremely competent, and very dangerous.
Rajah took a deep breath. “Well, I can move us a long way overnight,” he said, “but only to somewhere that I’ve already been. Which means going backward, not forward; but maybe there’s someone who can help with my... size condition.”
“We may as well try,” agreed Werelith. “But we should definitely travel into a hidden area and work our way into a town or city discretely. There could be guards anywhere.”
***
6/29/96 O.L.G., somewhere in the Bendrock Mountains
The sun peeked over the horizon and Rajah’s eyes fluttered open.
Where are we? he wondered for a moment, then recalled the events of his dream.
They had set out on foot, and soon had been making their way into a plunging valley alive with trees. Oaks and pine lorded over the scrubs and grasses, and a lush river frolicked its way through the vale’s meadows. The group had found themselves facing perhaps the largest oak tree in the valley. Something about it seemed feminine, and nurturing. Rajah had felt an odd sense of peace.
In the dream, he had been his normal height; but even so, the branches had brushed across his body and he had grown, far exceeding the stature of a normal man. There was a tittering and a strange puff of vapor...
That’s all he could remember. But clearly, the attempt at dream travel had been successful.
Did the dream mean anything? Rajah wasn’t sure- he hadn’t spent much time in the Dream Realm- but it had made a powerful impression on his subconscious. He looked around him.
The group was waking up in a beautiful valley, not as idealized as in the dream, but recognizable nonetheless. A small brook went its way through the place, with small polished stones and white sand all about its edges. Oaks and pines did dot the valley, but it wasn’t the lush forest of their dream.
Rajah turned his attention to the tree they had woken beneath. It was an oak, and if not as huge and beautiful as in his dream, it still had that sense of femininity about it. Puzzled, Rajah slowly approached it.
And a beautiful green-haired girl stepped from it, looking down at the six inch prince with a smile.
The bodyguards scrambled to their feet, but she spoke in a musical voice. “I mean you no harm, mortals!” She held her empty hands out and gave a gorgeous smile. She was wearing a shift of woven leaves that allowed tantalizing glimpses of her nubile body. “Please, do not fear me! You slept beneath my tree, now you must at least let me look at you.”
“All right,” said Rajah. She extended a hand to him and he climbed onto it, letting her lift him until he was level with her face- a dizzying height, to him.
“You are not one of the fey,” she observed, “yet you are of a size with them.”
“I’m under the influence of an enchantment of some kind,” Rajah answered. “Can you help me?”
“Perhaps,” she smiled. “I am Thera the dryad.” She paused. “I have a problem as well. Perhaps one good turn could do another?”
“Of course. Once I’m back to my normal size, I’ll gladly-“
“Ah, but little one, if this problem could be resolved by one of my size, I wouldn’t need your help, now would I?”
Rajah nodded. “That makes sense. What do you need?”
“I have had a very important ring stolen,” she said with a pout. “I would like you to retrieve it.”
“And I need to be small to do this?”
She nodded. “It was stolen,” she explained, “by the king of rats.”
Next Time: A six-inch Rajah the Tiger Prince against the King of Rats!
The tangled tunnels of the rats were too small for a normal man to navigate, but shrunken as small as he was, Rajah had the ability to do so. The stink of droppings was strong; tangles of dust were everywhere.
Rajah was nervous. There could be very many rats indeed in the warren. He doubted whether he could fight them all off; but he had a plan. It all relied on his animal affinity with tigers.
DM Note: In 2e, animal affinity let you take on a single characteristic of the animal that you had an affinity with. It was very different from the 3e stat-booster paradigm.
As the Tiger Prince crept forward through the maze of little tunnels, he strove to keep alert. His nostrils flared, testing the air. His wary eyes darted back and forth. His lips were parted just slightly, as if he were tasting the air.
Soon movement caught his eye, and a rat as large as he was started moving through the tunnels towards him.
Rajah took on the scent of a tiger, and the rat squealed and fled.
Smiling grimly, Rajah advanced.
The rats fled in all directions. How could a tiger have come here? But the smell was unmistakable. Even the King of Rats himself quailed at the thought of facing such an enemy.
Thus Rajah escaped the rat warren unharmed, without even a fight, and with the dryad’s ring.
__________________ Robert Blezard I write; therefore, I am!
D&D v.3.5, d20 Modern, OSRIC, Pathfinder, True20... OGL Forever! Walk the Road
Avatar by Sialia
Rajah and the Quest for Largeness (or at least Medium-ness)
4 p.m., 7/10/96 O.L.G., somewhere on Dorhaus
“My ring, my ring, my ring!”
Thera the dryad danced in a circle, her ring held tight in her hand. She radiated joy as if she were the sun and her rays were happiness. Rajah, from his diminutive viewpoint, couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of her bouncing breasts, and from the ground he could easily see the secret things hidden by her shift.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat, sad to interrupt her but impatient to be restored to his former stature. Of course, at his present height, his throat clearing was inaudible over the sounds of her dancing and happy cries, so he tilted back his head and let out a roar.*
Grinning ear to ear, she did a final jig and then turned to him and scooped him up. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” she bubbled, hugging his tiny form to her. Although for an instant she threatened to crush him, it was with her breasts, and he would have died happy. Damn this whole six-inch-high thing anyway!
Once he could breathe again, he asked, “What about me?”
“Oh! Of course! You want to be grown up again!”
“Something like that,” Rajah responded dryly.
“I can’t help you with that.”
“What! But you said-“
“But Jovius can,” she grinned.
“And who,” Rajah growled, “is Jovius?”
“Why, he’s a dragon.”
Noon, 7/20/96 O.L.G., somewhere on Dorhaus
“Interesting,” Jovius murmured. He grinned, and his long hollow tongue flicked out and gently poked Rajah’s chest. “Hmmm. Interesting indeed. A hint of... tiger?”
Jovius was a dragon, all right- but a faerie dragon. The fascinating creature was bigger than Rajah at present, but not by much; he and the human could look eye to eye easily.
“Can you fix it?” Rajah demanded. “Can you restore me to my full size?”
“Probably, but you ought to consider the advantages of being wee. Why, you never have to worry about whether you’ll fit through a door or-“
“Whatever. I’m a human. I want to be human sized.”
The dragon gave an elegant shrug. “I shall endeavor to do what I can,” he said huffily. “But you’re making a terrible mistake.”
The faerie dragon was true to his word. He used his native magicks to overcome the enchantment laid on Rajah by the orc’s cube of captivity, and soon Rajah was back to his normal stature. Then, that night, he returned to the dryad’s tree with his power over dream. In the morning, Thera was delighted to see him, and he spent one more night in her tree, this time engaging in the sort of passion that it really requires a fey and a mortal to achieve.**
When he woke up, he was no longer in the tree, and over two months had passed.
Next Time: Back to the pirates, just in time for you to learn about the difference between dragons and drakes!
*This was a custom psionic power for Rajah.
**As near as I can recall, this was Rajah’s only documented sexual encounter, leading me to wonder if his modern-day descendant, the so-called Tiger Princess, might have faerie blood?
6:30 a.m., 7/30/96 O.L.G., near the Eastern Precipice, Strogass
First light. Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlsland stood impatiently above Akakathan and Urdor as they tied rope off to the edge of the gash in the ground that led downward. Soon, they hoped, they would have success in their quest for a weapon to neutralize Dexter.
“So we killed a dragon,” enthused Vosh. The centaur druid was clopping around impatiently. He was not enthusiastic about being lowered in a harness to who-knows-what, but... what had to be done had to be done.
“Not really,” Urdor grunted. “It was a drake.”
“Huh? What’s the difference?” Vosh blinked.
“Drakes are smaller, stupider. Dragons are gods.” The dwarf glanced at the centaur. “You don’t want to try to fight a god, do you?”*
“No...”
Urdor Darkwind laughed into his beard, stroking the Black Sun of Bleak that hangs around his neck reverently.
Soon the ropes were tied and the group began descending into the Underdark. A sheer drop 30’ down to an islet in the middle of cold water... Akakathan shrugged off his armor and leapt into the water, changing into his dolphin-like form as he did so, and checked the surrounding caves. Though it was cold, his people were used to the currents of the sea, and he managed to avoid any mishaps initially. Soon he returned to the group, reporting the exit he’d found. The group strung ropes across with Akakathan’s aid, and using the rope they hand-over-handed across, avoiding getting wet. Delilah was delighted- it had been her idea. She attacked the problem the way she attacked all problems: with her razor-sharp intellect.
She was turning that to the question of Dexter.
The group followed a tunnel some hundreds of feet as it went from small to larger and back to small. In some places Vosh was brushing the walls on either side; in others, the group could easily spread out in a skirmish line. Soon it narrowed again, one part of the cave being choked off by rubble; and as they passed it, a huge creature sprang out at them! Strangely insect-like, it had a fat wide body and huge mandibles. And it had two large insectoid eyes- wait! Maybe those were its eyes, instead? Those two red ones... Whoah... And with that, the umber hulk spun Urdor and Akakathan into confusion!
The others sprang to action. Vosh surged forward, striking with his powerful hooves, while Chanti rushed in on the monster’s other side, squinting and trying to avoid its gaze. Delilah cast a spell and a poisonous spider appeared on the creature, biting it and delivering a searing poison.
The monster’s huge claws proceeded to demonstrate that they were not just huge, but in fact were strong and powerful as well. The beast stood toe-to-toe with Vosh and Chanti simultaneously, delivering a powerful gash to the flank of the horse part of Vosh’s body and biting Chanti viciously on the left breast. She growled and stuck her sword deep into its chest in retaliation and Vosh slashed with his scimitar and continued to pummel it with his hooves. Delilah sighed in delight and threw a dagger, but it deflected from the beast’s carapace.
Another series of blows staggered Chanti, but she gritted her teeth and cried, “Bleak favor me!!” A strong, mighty strike hit the umber hulk in the chest again, and this time was enough. The monster collapsed in a spray of brown blood.
After retrieving their confused fellows- who had wandered off- the party searched for treasure and then moved on. Urdor coughed as they passed the corpse and made an obscene gesture.
Next Time: The party meets Arvandor Illspree!
*For those of you that ‘go way back,’ as this was in the days of 2e, think of a ‘dragon’ as a 2e dragon turned up to 11 and a ‘drake’ as a 1e dragon with animal intelligence. There are only a few true dragons in the world at this point in the campaign’s history.
Evil Party Lineup:
Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlsland (Villain 5)
Akakathan Dundian (bard 3/priest of the Sea Queen 3)
Delilah (conjurer 2)
Vosh (druid 4)
Urdor Darkwind (cleric of Bleak 1/fighter 1)
2:00 p.m., 8/1/96 O.L.G., in the Underdark under Strogass
“So what are we hoping to find here exactly?” asked Akakathan.
Chanti was only too happy to explain. “We’re looking for an amulet that will help protect us from Dexter’s mind tricks.” The merellin only shrugged; he had never met this Dexter, but clearly he was an enemy of the people that Akakathan had chosen to travel with.
Then again, these same people were starting to make him increasingly nervous. They were showing a ruthless- he’d even say evil- side that he hadn’t expected. Yet if he were to speak out, he feared they would slay him. Maybe not Vosh, but Chanti was ruthless and heedless of danger, and Urdor was a cleric of Bleak.
No choice but to go along for now. But in the future... who could say?
The group moved through the caves and tunnels of the Underdark, not sure exactly where they were going. Chanticleer was certain that Bleak would guide them, however, especially in this realm of darkness where his influence was strongest. Soon the villains encountered a pair of wrinkle-skinned hairless deep gnomes calling themselves svirfneblin. The gnomes, both male, wore stone-studded ring mail and held sturdy-looking picks. They were accompanied by a pet earth elemental, which loomed above even Vosh in size. A parlay ensued, and when Chanticleer asked whether they knew of the amulet the villains were seeking, the gnomes shook their heads.
”But for a fee,” one of them smiled from behind his monocle, “we can take you to someone who probably can help you.”
After some haggling, a reasonable price was agreed upon, and the pair of svirfneblin began guiding the party towards a powerful wild mage that dwelled beneath the surface. “His name is Arvandor Illspree,” the monocled gnome explained. “He may or may not be willing to help you; that part’s up to you. You’ll most likely have to perform a service or pay handsomely for his advice. Whatever you do, don’t offend him- wild mages are known for a mercurial temperament, and he’s very powerful.”
“What race is this Illspree?” asked Delilah.
“He’s a Drow,” answered one of the deep gnomes. He smiled wickedly. “His name means ‘the Birth of Evil in Heaven.’”
Chanti smiled broadly. “Good,” she chortled.
As the group traveled, Chanticleer broke out into song, singing her latest composition, and Akakathan reluctantly sang along.
I was lucky to meet
The great priests of Bleak,
They guided me on my quest...
‘Tis Dexter NAD-ly I seek,
In the name of Bleak,
I’ll lay him to eternal rest...
Nothing will stop us...
We shall succeed!!!
Bleak as your ally is all anyone needs!
The sluts of the light...
Forever they will bleed!
They’ll pay with their lives for their greed!!
Ohhh....
Yes, the great priests of Bleak
Shall dwell in the dark,
With the rest of the world on their knees!
And the bards of the world
Will sing in their tales
While Dexter’s ashes are scattered in the seas!
In the name of Bleak...
Bow down, fools!
Give up your soul and join our cause!
With the God of Despite,
And us, his tools!
Will shred all your foes with your teeth and your claws!
***
6 p.m., 8/5/96 O.L.G.
“Far enough, surfacers,” a voice cried out from the darkness. Its accent was sneering and threatening, yet liltingly soft at the same time, like an elvish accent gone bad.
The two svirfneblin stepped forward. “They come for advice from your master,” one of them called out. “We have guided them this far that they may give him great tribute.”
There was a pause, and then four dark-skinned elves appeared from the shadows, their silver or white hair seeming totally stark against their inky skin. Stranger still, the males wear beards- a novelty that nobody in the group has ever seen on an elf before. One of them sneers and starts speaking in a different tongue, and there are a few moments of conversation before the dark elves gesture for the surface group to follow.
“Good luck,” one of the gnomes calls after them. “Remember what we told you- respect!”
The party reluctantly follows their escort.into the dark.
Arvandor Illspree, whose name is Drow for the birth of evil in heaven, reclines on a seat that is almost a throne. It is constructed of black stone, with sharp spires that stab upward behind Illspree’s head. The seat looks cruel; Arvandor Illspree within the seat seems as cruel at least, with his ringed fingers tapering to sharp painted nails and his frosty white beard curling arrogantly below his chin. He wears robes of a dusty dark hue, a jet black cloak behind him. His skin is jet black. He is a Drow.
“You seek me?” he asks idly, speaking in the tongue of surface elves. His face is relaxed, but his eyes are predatory.
“If you are indeed Arvandor Illspree, great and powerful mage, we humbly beg a moment of your most valuable time.” Delilah gives the Drow her best smile and drops to one knee, bowing her head. After an instant’s hesitation, the others follow suit.
Illspree seems somewhat amused, as do his dark elven companions. There are several chuckles. Glancing around, Urdor estimates that the party is outnumbered at least 2:1. And these are Drow, he reminds himself fearfully. Each of them is worth two, or more, if the legends be true. By Bleak, I pray we do not have to face them all!
“We seek knowledge that is hidden from us, and things we cannot find on our own. Only a masterful puissant wizard such as yourself could possible aid us. We seek to overthrow a great servant of the Light, and we are searching for an item to aid us in our struggle.” Delilah looks Arvandor Illspree in the eye. “We believe that, if anyone can help us find what we seek, it is you.”
“And what is it you seek, child?” sneers Illspree.
Delilah bridles at his words, but remains diplomatic. After a bare instant’s pause, she masters her tongue and responds, “We seek an amulet that can shield our minds from Dexter’s psychic powers.”
“Ahhh,” the Drow nods. “I know of what you speak. But why should I help you?”
“Perhaps we can do something for you in return.”
One of the Drow on the side speaks up. ”Zila eclaveveda ti rothip’ek, mel ti Lesaonar.” There are a few quiet chuckles. Illspree smiles.
“Very well,” he intones. “If you can retrieve the staff of Lesaonar for me, I will give you the amulet you seek.” He smiles. “That is, if you are willing?”
“Yes,” Chanticleer says without hesitation. “Who is Lesaonar?”
“He is a drider, but a... special one. You will know him by his tail. Now, prepare yourselves!” Arvandor Illspree rises, his teeth bared in a fierce snarl, and begins casting a spell. But-
He’s not doing it right, Delilah think. It’s too haphazard- he’s outside the forms in many places. He’s playing with dangerous forces... I don’t even know if his spell will work right...
And then she realizes, He’s a wild mage.
Suddenly the air around the party twists, and there’s a ringing sound, and suddenly everything slides away; and then, just like that, the party is picking themselves up off of a blasted landscape of black and grey stones jumbled like volcanic basalts as a group of demons lurches towards them shrieking. The sky is the color of blood, and there is no sun.
“Sweet darkness, he shifted us to the Abyss,” whispers Delilah, stunned.
Next Time: Lookin’ for the staff of Lesaonar on the Abyss!
Suddenly the air around the party twists, and there’s a ringing sound, and suddenly everything slides away; and then, just like that, the party is picking themselves up off of a blasted landscape of black and grey stones jumbled like volcanic basalts as a group of demons lurches towards them shrieking. The sky is the color of blood, and there is no sun.
“Sweet darkness, he shifted us to the Abyss,” whispers Delilah, stunned.
Heh, couldn't happen to a meaner bunch of villians!
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The sky screamed red down at the disoriented pirates as the demons shambled towards them.
“Oh crap!” cried Akakathan, pulling free his blade and starting to sing, and then the shambling little horrors were upon the adventurers, tearing with their claws, snapping their gaping, broken mouths. They were pitiful, but dangerous; the souls of the departed chaotic evil people unworthy to be made into something better. Then the demons were upon Vosh, ripping and tearing at him, and one of them clawed at his belly. He shrieked as his entrails dropped out. He had been gutted! Groaning, he swung his scimitar, trying to move back, but his hooves tangled in his intestines, pulling out even more of them!
I will be more than this after I die! Urdor Darkwind vowed defiantly. The dwarf’s axe whipped out and through one of the little demons, killing it, and it dissolved into a cloud of greenish, foul-smelling gas. The stench made Delilah first wrinkle her nose in distaste, then suddenly turn her head and vomit. Clutching at her belly, she sank to her knees, stomach heaving.
Urdor and Akakathan moved together to strike and destroy the next one, drawing back from its vapors before they inhaled too much. The remaining manes hurled themselves at the party, but they could not withstand the pirates’ skill with steel. In a few minutes the battle was done, and the group took a deep breath and looked around.
Vosh was groaning and barely conscious. He stumbled, nearly falling. Quickly, Urdor moved over to him and invoked the glory of Bleak, providing what healing he could. Vosh’s guts were sealed up tight, but his belly still bore a livid wound. “I’ll live,” the centaur gasped.
The ground all about them was rocky and sharp. It was certainly unfriendly, especially for Vosh. In the distance was a large finger of rock thrusting into the sky. As there were no other obvious landmarks, the band set out for it.
Almost immediately they were set on by another group of manes. The battle went very much like the first one. In just a few minutes the last of the demons was dissolving into nauseating green gas.
Continuing to pick their way along the rocky ground, the group passed between a pair of ragged, short hills, and on the far side they found themselves facing the finger of stone. Now that they were closer- within a hundred yards- they could make out a layer of webbing around the base of the finger. Urdor grinned. If a drider is like a spider, this is a clue.
Caught in the web was a disgusting demon that seemed to be a parody of a fly, but enlarged to a gruesome eight and a half feet in length. The gross thing was stained with fecal matter and vomit, and it stank nearly as bad as the clouds that the manes had become upon death. As it saw the approaching adventurers, the demon began to buzz. “Help meeezz,” it croaked.
“Hey, look,” said Akakathan, pointing upwards.
Crawling slowly down the side of the finger of the stone were three huge spiders.
“Looks like you’re dinner, buddy,” the merellin cracked at the demon.
“ZZZhelp me! I will helpzz you azzzz wellzz!”
“We seek Lesaonar,” Delilah said without preamble. “Tell us where to find him and we may free you.”
“He izzz within the stonezzz! Now, quickly- before zzzthe zzspiderszz get me!”
“Thanks,” Delilah said, and the party left him to his plight, allowing the spiders their meal, and moved closer to the finger. They waited until the spiders were fully occupied, then warily sliced their way through the webs to a passage that led within the finger.
They passed into a chamber littered with demonic corpses. Standing over them was a beautiful, fierce-looking woman. They eyed her warily and vice-versa; finally, Vosh said, “Hello... who are you?”
“My name is Clarissa,” she answered. She let her gaze linger at Urdor’s symbol of Bleak.
“What are you doing here, child?” Urdor asked. “Heh heh heh.” He glanced at the amulet around her neck- it bore some sort of phallic symbol.
“I am looking for a way out, unholy father. I am a fallen paladin, and I seek escape from the Abyss.”
“Really,” Vosh said. “Well, we’re on a mission- presumably once we complete it we’ll be brought home magically.”
“I sure hope so,” Akakathan interjected. “But, hold on here- do we trust this woman? No offense, lady,” he added.
“None taken,” the stranger said sweetly.
“Well, she didn’t attack us on sight,” reasoned Delilah.
“Anyway,” Vosh argued, “we’re going to have to battle some demonic force in here, and we could probably use her help.”
Akakathan shook his head. “It’s against my better judgment, but all right.”
Clarissa nodded. “Thank you. You are most kind. Perhaps I could offer you a kiss?”
“No, thanks,” Akakathan answered nervously.
The group moved deeper into the finger of stone. Soon they happened into a huge hollow chamber, and awaiting them was Lesaonar- with a drow upper body, the thorax and abdomen and legs of a spider, and a hideous scorpion tail fairly dripping venom. “So!” he boomed. “Why do you come to Lesaonar?”
“We come seeking knowledge!” Delilah tried, and the drider-demon laughed.
“Liar! You come seeking my staff! Lesaonar is no fool! Who sent you? Tell me- and I will make your deaths quick and easy.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like a very good deal,” grated Urdor, and as he sprang forward with his axe firmly in hand he heard Delilah the Damned casting a spell from behind him. The irony made him smile as a spider the size of a child’s hand appeared, biting at Lesaonar viciously. Their newfound friend Clarissa swung and struck with a flaming sword, inflicting terrific damage on the drider-demon. The battle raged as the demon jabbed at the pirates with its tail and slashed viciously with a battle axe, which tore through armor with disturbing ease, leaving it rent and useless. Urdor’s axe tasted demon blood, as did Akakathan’s rapier.
Then it was done. With a last despairing howl, Lesaonar fell beneath the onslaught.
The group quickly stripped him, finding a staff, a ring and his axe. They began to glow. “This is it!” cried Akakathan. “Clarissa, grab on!” He extended his hand, still not trusting her, but admitting to himself that she had kept up her end of the deal (not that that had helped the fly-demon in the web).
She grasped it just as the Abyss faded from around them.
Next Time: Treachery at the hands of Arvandor Illspree!
Wow, glad to see you've been keeping up Jester. I've been away from the scene for almost a year but I should have the internet again in a few weeks - I'm catching up on all your story hours. Thanks again for sharing your tales.
Wow, glad to see you've been keeping up Jester. I've been away from the scene for almost a year but I should have the internet again in a few weeks - I'm catching up on all your story hours. Thanks again for sharing your tales.
Technik
Hey, dude, I know I already said this in two other threads, but welcome back! It's good to see you again!
“Well, well,” Arvandor Illspree said, steepling his fingers as he regarded the triumphant group of adventurers.
“We found your staff.” Chanticleer smiled a deadly smile as she waved it in the Drow wild mage’s direction. “I hope it’s as useful to you as that amulet will be to us.”
This, then, would be the moment Chanti had been waiting for: the moment when the group finally acquired a weapon to shield them against Dexter’s deadly psionic powers. The same powers that drove Galliger to his death.
I’ll kill him, Chanti thought again, as she had thought every day for months. I’ll rip his heart out and cast it on an altar shaped like the Black Sun, and then I’ll hurl his body into Bleak’s Maw. Dexter is a dead man.
The Drow wizard made a negligent gesture from his high-backed seat. Another of the ebony-skinned elves glided across the cavern floor to the group of villainous surface adventurers. She extended a velvet-gloved hand, her pale eyes boring into Chanti. With a chuckle, the surfacer gave the staff over, and the black-cloaked woman returned to Arvandor Illspree’s side. She slid the staff upwards to him, her eyes never leaving the band of pirates.
“So, about that amulet,” Akakathan said nervously.
Arvandor Illspree, whose name meant ‘the Birth of Evil in Heaven,’ smiled wickedly. “Oh, the amulet? I had nearly forgotten.” He turned and barked at several servants in the strange tongue of his people. A few laughed. The crowd stirred as a cloaked figure began moving forward, a lock of white hair spilling out of the concealing darkness of the hood.
“I hope you are not going to renege on our deal,” Chanti growled.
“Renege? Never!” Arvandor Illspree seemed mildly put off. “Why, I am insulted at the very thought.” He showed his teeth again. “But I must confess... I am changing our arrangement somewhat.”
Chanti’s hand strayed to the hilt of her sword. Her eyes darted around. There were dozens of Drow. There’s no way we can take them all, she realized grimly, even as Delilah brushed her arm with a hand, murmuring, “Carefully, Captain.”
“We had a bargain!” Vosh protested.
“You will still receive your precious amulet,” Illspree said disdainfully, “but first you must pass another test to prove your worth. After all, if you’re to fight this... ‘Dexter’ with it, you must be able to survive to reach him, must you not?” He smiled a deadly smile. “If you can survive Thalanaz, I will give you the amulet.”
The hooded figure cast back the hood, revealing a female Drow of particularly arrogant bearing. With a flourish she drew her shortsword.
And with a wild cry she attacked.
Next Time: Oh dear! Can our low-level villains deal with a tenth-level Drow fighter with an AC -6???
Akakathan the Doomed (that's how he signed in that game- he was already starting to think that he was in a situation he wasn't gonna be able to extricate himself from), merellin priest/bard 4/4; NG Urdor Darkwind, dwarf fighter/cleric 1/1; NE Delilah the Dead, human conjurer 2; LN Vosh, centaur druid 5; N Chanticleer Gilder-Ynarlsland, elf villain 5; CE
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