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!
I'll be updating it from time to time with little bits of story from earlier in my campaign. Similar to the infamous "Defenders of Daybreak: the Early Years" SH, it prolly won't be a very complete narrative, certainly will leave out many details, likely will get a lot of the specifics at least partially wrong, and will no doubt be updated only infrequently.
That said, I'll shortly be telling the story of the first adventure in my current campaign world- the first adventure of Malford, who some of you may know from one of my other story hour threads, and of Dexter, the major religion's Jesus figure.
But first, a little background on just how the campaign began...
I had a long-running campaign world that I'd been dming since about 1981 that came to a screeching halt in 1993 when Tharizdun was awoken and ate Nature. The old campaign was set in the World of Greyhawk, but by the end it was a couple of thousand years past the GH most people play in, and there were all sorts of cataclysmic changes to the world.
When the game ended- the pcs failed in their bold attempt to wake Nature up so she could defend herself- it was largely the luck of the dice, but the pcs could have done so much more to improve their odds, given themselves reroll chances, etc. Sadly, they did not, and they all died along with everything else in the multiverse.
Or so it appeared.
It wasn't until about a decade later, real time, that the connection between my old campaign world and Cydra, the new one, became apparent. Maybe I'll get to that story eventually- I certainly hope so, it bears directly on my current game and the Story Hours in progress!
In any event, not too long after my Greyhawk game died, the players demanded another one. So I quickly sketched a map of the central island (Forinthia), decided to try monotheism instead of polytheism in a campaign, and had the players roll up characters.
Then I threw a cliche at them, gave it a twist, and the game was on, and it hasn't stopped for more than a couple of months ever since. We're playing game # 527 this coming weekend; the first one was played on October 4th, 1993. That's an average of more than one per week the whole time. And I'm happy to note that as time goes on the layers keep getting deeper and deeper, and that I'm close to realizing a campaign that lasts longer than my old one did (two more years to go!!).
Originally posted by the Jester That said, I'll shortly be telling the story of the first adventure in my current campaign world- the first adventure of Malford, who some of you may know from one of my other story hour threads, and of Dexter, the major religion's Jesus figure.
And Lester? I'd love to see what he did to deserve being blamed for everything that goes wrong.
p.s. you need to get together with wulf and teach him how to update on a semi regular basis.
The cliche was that the party of adventurers met at a bar.
The twist is how it happened.
So there was this tavern, scattered with a light afternoon's business on the 17th day of the 1st month of the year 95 of Our Lord Galador; and suddenly this wizard-looking guy stood up at the bar with a wild look in his eyes, screamed, "MYNAR!!", and cast a fireball into the room.
The ball detonated with a whoomp, incinerating a number of surprised drinkers and setting the building alight. There was a general cry and panicked farmers and merchants began rushing for the door.
Several of the survivors of the initial blast moved into action against the man, drawing weapons and rushing forward. He screamed madly and threw an orb of spinning color at a sly-looking gnome but missed; then he cast another spell and disappeared. Arrows shot through where he'd been a moment ago uselessly. The gnome and a half-elf threw mad thrusts with their blades at empty space, each wielding two weapons. The wizard became visible again as three missiles sprang from his fingers, and there were grunts and cries as the half-elf, a young lad with horrible acne and the axe-man were hit In an instant the man was down. But flames were roaring, spreading along the bar. "Let's get out of here!" cried the half-elf, and most of them made for the door.
Two of them made for the cashbox first.
Outside, smoke poured from the building. The aroma of roasting meat wafted on the smoke. Flames licked upward along one outside wall and spat out several of the windows.
"Well, that was fun," coughed one of the men who had defeated the flame-caster as he dragged the corpse of the wizard out of the tavern. "I'm Galiger Light. Pleased to meet you." He'd wielded an axe in the combat. He looked like a hard man, with a handsome but brutal face. He wore black studded leather.
"I'm Vito," said the half-elf, sheathing his longsword and shortsword. "Malford," the gnome chimed in, "the Magnificent." He was still mentally counting his share of the cashbox in his head. "Dexter Nadly," the youth with the bad face said. "Mordan Kain," said the female elven archer.
"We should find out what that was all about," said Vito.
The group agreed, and it was shortly thereafter that they met the wife- no, the widow- of the man they'd killed. She was Dinagar's widow; they never learned her name. She wanted to know what was going on herself; her husband was clearly witnessed by dozens as guilty of burning the tavern down, and he was a good man.
"A good, Galador-fearing man?" emphasized Galiger. There may have been a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Yes, of course, the widow told them, and in fact he worked for a company that itself worked for the Church. "Interesting," mused the wily gnome Malford.
Inquiries at a sage's office revealed that Mynar's an island somewhere far removed to the north- not even on any maps the characters can find. It's far away.*
Inquiries of the Church turn up only polite unhelpfulness. Soon it's plain that there's something being covered up by the righteous Church of Galador, and Galiger thinks it's time to have a talk about religion with his new compatriots. After all, he is a priest of Bleak, and if they're amenable, he'd love to cause the Galadorians some pain...
*Note that my initial conception of the infinite ocean of Cydra was that it would be a flat plane of infinite expanse and depth, although this has subsequently changed; but since that's the common man's belief that'll do for now. It's actually the inside surface of an enormous air bubble some 780,000 miles in diameter.
Our next update will have, among other things, the resolution of the Mynar mystery and the first death of a pc. The update above roughly covers the first session of this campaign world; as stated previously, I may have some of the details wrong. In any event, our party at this point consists of:
The party is assembled in a room upstairs at a tavern. "Look at this weird Mynar thing! It's some sort of cover-up; I'm sure they're ultimately responsible." He looks at the group. The youth, Dexter, is looking at him attentively, the others less so but still with interest.
"I mean, come on! It's obvious," he goes on, completely glossing over inconveniences like evidence or the truth. "Anyone can see it. It's all about Bleak. Bleak's the way to go."
Talking about Bleak like this, of course, would get one crucified or tortured by the Inquisition if it were found out.
Bleak is the devil-figure in the Galadorian faith. If you're not a priest, saying the sacred name of Galador will get you whipped. The people are pretty well ground down beneath a powerful church with an empire that backs it up- Forinthia. (This was, in fact, the entire amount of prep I did for the first couple of games- just a quick map and a concept, plus spheres for Galador and Bleak.)
In any event, Galiger ranted and raved for a few more minutes as it became evident that nobody in the little group was exactly a good Galadorian. And Dexter- he seemed to have a lot of promise!
After railing against the church for a while, Galiger proceeds to ply the party with booze. That evening, Dexter displays interest in Bleak when approached individually, and seems to be pretty much a convert. After all, he's only a lad; just sixteen (? or fifteen?) He hasn't much experience in the world; but, he tells Galiger, his parents were killed by Forinthian soldiers. He'll work counter to their purposes, all right. And he has certain... facilities with his mind...
Later, the group searches Dinagar's study thoroughly (in secret, without his widow's permission). They turn up an interesting note on the subject of 'Mynar', dated seven days ago (1/10/95 O.L.G.):
Quote:
Mynar think mynar mynar is driving mynar mynar. I mynar mynar but of mynar. Mynar island has sucked mynar mynar, blackened mynar. How mynar mynar that mynar mynar obsessed mynar mynar?
After discussing this missive, they decide that Dinagar was definitely totally crazy, but that this 'Mynar' place is the key. And it seems as though the Church holds the knowledge they seek. Perhaps, muses Vito, Dexter's powers could...?
That night, there's a 'scuffle' between a Galadorian cleric and some of our (rather villainous) heroes, and soon there's a dead cleric on the ground. Galiger happily strips him of his armor and the bard takes his potion. Enjoying a rather nefarious level of success so far, the party follows the clues back (combined from Dinagar's papers, Dexter's mind powers and others) and soon finds the truth when they learn about the blackroot grass connection.
"An island in chains," sneered Galiger. "Wow, that's great."
It turned out that blackroot grass, a powerful narcotic, was being funnelled to far-off Mynar to keep the populace from revolting. The wizard Dinagar had been investigating, and in order to keep him from learning too much, the main villain of the piece, Auron, drove him mad with magical manipulation. Auron couldn't afford to be found out because, although he was acting with the Church's wink-and-nod-we'll-look-the-other-way, they didn't know that his supplier was Drondan, a cleric of Bleak.
The fact that he was fighting another priest of Bleak didn't give Galiger pause at all; when the battle came down, Malford moved in for the backstab, with Morden firing her bow at the wizard Auran, who fired back with a dancing wand of rusting and an ill-placed fireball. Drondand spent a little too much time casting prayer before Vito and Galiger started laying the smack down; he then foolishly aided himself before starting to fight with his battleaxe. By then it was almost too late; though Auran lasted a moment longer, Drondand was soon standing alone. But he seemed unbeatable, with almost impenetrable armor*, and he soon laid half the party low with his deadly axe.
Things were looking ugly, and Dexter cried out in frustration, making the mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life, and, especially, after.
"Bleak!" he screamed, his teenager's voice breaking, "If you save us here, I will give you my soul!!!"
And he swung his quarterstaff, rolled a natural twenty, and pulped Drondand's head. Holding his staff tightly in both hands, Dexter stared unbelievingly at the corpse of the cleric.
So everything seemed resolved; after a few days of healing, all that remained was a final report to the widow and to the authorities, which Galiger figured he could use to embarrass them, and the party's mission would be happily complete, with them able to go their separate ways if they chose- though Galiger wanted Dexter to come with him, very badly.
And that's when it all went wrong.
At the wrong place, at the wrong time, Morden mentioned the Galadorian cleric they'd killed. In front of other, less antisocial types.
The sage bolted instantly from the room, probably the only thing that saved his life. Malford wasted not an instant, casting sleep and dropping everyone in the area (the rest of the party was behind him). Then he quickly slit the throats of both the merchant and Morden Kain. "Stupid!" he said softly through gritted teeth. He was at his evilest. These were the only two true murders that Malford, later God-King of West Dorhaus, ever did.
The party beat a retreat out of town, but the word was out: they were bad guys. Game 2 already had our villains (definitely not heroes) with a price on their heads.
*AC-2 in 2nd edition terms; against 1st-level pcs... well, they had a time trying to hit him.
Next Time: We'll see- perhaps I'll do the next adventure chronologically, or should I try to do a later arc? (Such as the Fuligin arc, the clockwork horrors arc, the Firestorm Peak arc, etc.) I dunno, but eventually I'll post something in here again...
Originally posted by the Jester But he seemed unbeatable, with almost impenetrable armor*
This smells of an annotation, did you actually intend to include one or is the asterisk out of place?
Quote:
Next Time: We'll see- perhaps I'll do the next adventure chronologically, or should I try to do a later arc?
Next adventure chronologically. I hereby formally request that you post updates of games in the order they happen without skipping things when possible.
Last edited by Welverin; 10th August 2003 at 07:21 PM..
The party (minus Morden, whom Malford had murdered) headed down the coast to Port Lofrax. Upon reaching said Port, the group managed to acquire a couple of new friends.
Lyr was a harpoon-throwing evil priest of the old religion of Forinthia, a savage faith that encouraged the eating of the hearts of worthy foes. She was attractive in a severe sort of way, and she and Galiger just about instantly hated each other. After all, they served different gods.
Galiger really liked the other new recruit, however. Chanticleer Gildar-Ynarlsland was her name, and she was a sexy elf chick in armor and bearing a sword. Deadly in a fight, Chanti was a devoted Bleakist and would soon prove a good help to the group's morale both by serving as their ship's tail and by composing sea chanties to Bleak, but both of those things are somewhat yet to come.
While in the inn at which they rented a room, the party happened upon an employment opportunity. A local wizard named Valkor the Water-Wizard hired them to go to a network of elven coral caves to gain a spell from their wizard for Valkor. Unfortunately, it would seem that the elves have not been responding to recent messages. Their fate must be ascertained, and the spell- control water- gained at all costs. Our heroes set out to hire a ship, but hadn't enough money to do one yet (and Valkor was unwilling to pay them up front). So Dexter came up with a plan.
When Godsday (the day of mandated worship by good Galadorians) rolled around, the villainous pcs whose antics we're following went to church so as not to attract attention. Galiger, a little drunk already, mouthed off a tiny bit at the start, but quieted down so as not to miss Dexter at work.
Lendore, the priest giving the sermon, was extolling the virtues of Galador and the service of the Light when Dexter spoke into his mind.
"My priest!" Dexter cried telepathically. "I am Galador, and I come to lay a charge on you! You must take a vessel to sea, and take a group of unlikely pilgrims with you!" Dexter rambled on at length, thoroughly bamboozling Lendore, the cleric, and our heroes had their ride for the first trip to the Coral Caves.
On the way there, which took several days, at Galiger's urgings Dexter tormented Lendore with his telepathic powers, telling him he'd failed his god, urging him to suicide and finally convincing him to kill himself! This was despite Dexter's having found Lendore to be an unusually tolerant Galadorian. Still, had Dexter never fallen into so deep a pit of evil he never could have risen as far as he later would. And so one night Lendore took himself to the ship's edge and cast himself into the sea, and no-one even noticed til dawn rose hours later.
Next Time: A foray into the Coral Caves! A couple more pcs, including the first Merellin! And things start to get ugly for Dexter!
The party's first foray into the Coral Caves was awkward and, frankly, the first pivotal point of the campaign, as it led directly to Dexter's capture by the Inquisition.
Upon weighing anchor at about the location of the caves, allegedly inhabited by sea elves, the party consumed some of the potions of water breathing that Valkor had provided them with. "If this takes more than one or two trips down, we won't have enough potions," Vido remarked, and in the water they all went, accompanied by two of Drake's men, an elf named Oarin and Sh!Larn, a merellin*. Oarin was a thief and a scoundral, but the idea of having someone else to back up Malford's trapfinding skills appealed. Sh!Larn was a fighter/bard, but more important, he was a merellin. He could introduce them to the aquatic elves; he might even know some of them.
The ocean was warm; swimming above a large coral formation, the party saw a number of fish, including a shark in the distance, a shipwreck, and finally the entrance to the caves. They entered heedless of danger, and in the very first chamber they ran into a cadre of bloated, half-rotten corpses- drowned ones! The water was full of particles of greasy flesh, a slickness that sickened everyone just to look at it. Instantly the zombies swarmed to the attack, faster than their land-bound counterparts, and one of them sank a harpoon into Oarin's chest, tearing viciously and collapsing both his lungs. He never even had a chance to act.**
Having no experience underwater (other than the merellin, of course, who bashed into the sea zombies rather successfully with his blunt nose), it took our heroes a few pivotal moments to realize that their staves and longswords were useless; only piercing weapons could help them here! A lesson learned at cost, for the meathooks and rancid claws of the sea zombies were taking their toll on the party.
Barely able to fight through the chamber without losing a man, the party beat a retreat after destroying the drowned ones, most of which were dead aquatic elves. "I think we'd better tell Valkor about this," Chanticleer said. She tossed her head and her golden locks floated demurely around her face. "We may not be able to get this spell for him if all the elves are dead, and we need more potions." The rest of the party agreed, so they returned to Captain Drake's vessel and thence back to Port Lofrax.
Dexter, being too clever for his own good, went to a Church of Galador to try to seek healing. The irony certainly appealed to him, especially after the death of Lendore, which he perhaps felt the tiniest bit of remorse over. Unfortunately for him, the Church was by now onto him, and while he was there he was duped into coming into the back and seized. Hurled into a cold, damp cell, the poor lad found himself about to face the consequences of his actions....
*Merellin are essentially dolphinweres- cetaceans that can change into a humanoid form.
**This was actually the first session of dnd this player ever played, and he's been totally hooked ever since.
Next Time: Chanti starts composing sea chanties to Bleak while Dexter suffers at the hands of the Inquisition! Eek!
Come to think of it, there was another cleric tricked psychically by Dex before the Galadorians caught on. I think, if I recall right, Dexter told him to go on a crusade into Bleak's Maw, which is a huge volcano that has some sort of hazy connection to Bleak.
Bleak's Maw comes up a lot later with Dexter, too.
This is a fun story hour to work on, I should email the link to Vic (Dexter's old player).
It's at somewhere around here in the story that Chanticleer started a tradition of writing a new sea chantie every game in devotion to Bleak. Without having an antipaladin class, she was a powerful evil fighter devoted to a dark god. Here's a sample of the chanties:
I've spent all my life on the cold briny sea
And many adventures have happened to me
Yet no matter what challenge or treasure I seek
Through all of my trials I'm protected by Bleak.
Bleak! Bleak!
Defeat all my foes!
Bleak! Bleak!
Assuage my woes!
Bleak! Bleak!
On earth and on sea
You are my favorite deity!
Naturally, I kept these sea chanties, though one or two may be missing. They're a hoot. Nevertheless, here's another.
In these recent trying times
When despair has reached its peak
Misfortunes have assailed me
And tried to make me weak
Yet even when it's to the point
That it seems I'm up creek
Despair will never get to me
Cause I've kept my faith in Bleak.
Keep the faith!
Keep the faith!
His name I'll always shriek
Keep teh faith!
Keep the faith!
Shout in the name of Bleak!
Here, I'll post the third one too- more will come later, no doubt...
In my days of adventuring
I travelled so far
My sword clashed with minions
Of that accursed Galador-
Now when I'm old and tired
And my limbs are all sore
At least I'll still have my memories
From those days of yore.
Thanks be to Bleak!
Thanks be to Bleak!
His awesome power makes all others seem weak!
More than once he's made Galador
Turn the other cheek!
That's why I've given my life up
To Bleak!
A hoot, I say. And the player would lead the other players in singing them.
Dexter was terrified. He was just a kid, after all, a lad of sixteen at the time; he'd never even kissed a girl. He'd fallen in with a profoundly bad influence and done some truly horrible things, and now- in the Inquisition's tiny cell- he was afraid he was going to pay the price. Worst of all, he'd given himself to Bleak. Would they know?
It seemed so. They dragged him from his cell, kicked him to... to the chamber... and branded his forehead, with a great sweltering B rune, for Bleak. Then they burned the palms of both of his hands with hot pokers. Then, roughly, they returned him to his cell, where there was water and a little bread.
Could he make a break for it? Even as he thought about it, the odds seemed dismal. Even if he could break free from the cell somehow- not at all a sure prospect- the Inquisitors would surely catch him, and then he'd be put to the question for sure. The thought of the devices they'd shown him, explained the uses of to him on his way to his cell, made him quail. No, an escape attempt would only make it worse. Oh, Bleak!
His thoughts were interrupted after a long while when a confessor came in, offering to take his confession. She was beautiful, and to the uncertain Dexter she was a weapon aimed at the biggest chink in his already uncertain armor.
"What's going to happen to me?" he pleaded. The brand on his head felt like it was burning up.
"That depends," said the Confessor, Sheila. "If you confess to your sins, perhaps Galador will forgive you."
Not hopeful sounding at all. What about his friends? Might they mount a rescue attempt? Not likely, yet...
Even as Dexter prayed for his friends to aid him, the rest of the party was singing sea chanties on the way back to the Coral Caves on Captain Drake's ship. No help was coming to him; Dexter was in the clutches of the worst people he, in his situation, could have come to. He was hopeless and despondant as he sank towards sleep. In the morning they would come for him, and take him back to the... the chamber, where all the devices awaited... shivering, cold in his shift, he lay on the stone floor and finally slept.
And dreamed...
Forgive them, my Son, for they know not what they do, came the voice from the brilliant light; and was it Galador? Galador? Dexter asked, but there was no answer, just the searing, pure light...
Was it a fever dream? Was it real? Dexter didn't know, but it terrified him.
In the morning, Dexter confessed to everything. He told of the priest of Bleak who had influenced him, claiming not to know his name; cried that he'd fallen in with bad company. Sheila nodded and took notes and promised to seek intercession for him, but warned him that she could promise nothing.
So it was that Dexter was given a coarse robe and was taken upon a stage, where he was made to publicly confess his crimes and recant against Bleak. He swore to follow the Light henceforth, and they sat him in a chair and heated a metal brand and placed an X over the B rune on his forehead. Dexter howled but the Inquisitor showed no mercy, driving the brand heavily into Dexter's forehead. When finally he pulled it away, he growled, "You're lucky Hendrick the Witch-Hunter isn't here."
Dexter changed alignment on the spot from NE to N. He didn't know for sure, but he assumed that they'd know if he broke his word... so he didn't. And, based on Sheila's recommendation, they let him go with a stern warning- namely, burnt head and hands, with a branding that would definitely scar.
Meanwhile, things were getting interesting with the others. They were approaching the Coral Caves, and after some discussion Malford and Galiger had decided to become pirates. They needed money for a ship- a knarr seemed to be about right for their needs, at least initially. That would take a decent investment.
So they returned to the Coral Caves...
Next Time: Back in the Coral Caves! The beginnings of the gnome on a rope phenomenon (though with a dwarf).
The Beginning of A Proud Tradition: Gnome on a Rope!
When our ‘heroes’ (villains, more like, but the needs of narrative must win out) descended to the Coral Caves a second time, minus Dexter, were joined by two of Drake’s men again (although Sh!Larn declined to join them this time). One, a dwarf who fancied himself a dread pirate, was named Roberts. His massive forearms were tattooed with anchors; he was immensely strong.* The other was another elf, this one a mage of some small skill named Urick. The entire group quaffed water breathing potions and descended over the side of the ship, swimming back to the caves below.
Through the chamber where they’d slain the drowned ones our heroes descended. There were two passages out of it; after a small amount of discussion, Roberts said, “I’ll scout ahead using my infravision. Here, tie this rope to me; if there’s trouble I’ll tug on it.” So saying, he sealed his fate. Roberts went on ahead alone, never even noted the dangers inherent in the strangleweed in the next chamber and was promptly constricted to death by it while he was surprised; he never even had a chance to roll for initiative. Thus began the long tradition now known as Gnome On A Rope in my campaign.
A few impatient minutes later the rest of the party tugged on the rope, but to no avail. It was completely taut, and it wasn’t moving at all. Lyr and Urick scouted ahead after Roberts, but as soon as they saw his fate they turned back and rejoined the party. “Strangleweed,” Lyr reported. “We’d better go the other way.”
The others agreed, and on their way they went- the other way, that is. They encountered a weird psionic octopoid creature, but slew it before it could do more than activate its biofeedback power. Advancing past a branching passage through the coral, they found a chamber with a downward-leading path lined with jagged coral sides. It looked like it would be difficult, to say the least, getting past it; so they continued along their forward-leading path. This took them shortly into another chamber, where they killed a giant crab and crowed that dinner would be good tonight. More tunnels, leading ahead and below, and the group continued forward into a chamber full of horribly stale water, toxic to breathe, with many grimy-looking particles afloat in it.
The next chamber was a larder.
Floating within it they found a number of corpses, some of which had been gnawed at. There were an aquatic elf, a dolphin, two sahuagin and a merellin. Lyr poked about but since they were already dead she couldn’t very well sacrifice one to eat its heart or anything, so she left them be.
One more chamber completed their exploration of this corner of the Coral Caves. It held what appeared to be a display of coral shaping artistry, with magnificently beautiful growths carefully shaped almost like a bonsai tree. “Hmm,” Galiger said, “useless. Maybe we should go back to the entrance and rethink our approach.”
“There are other chambers we haven’t yet investigated,” Lyr pointed out, and he gave her a dirty look. The group swam back to the entry chamber where they’d lost Oarin to gather their wits, and immediately Chanti cried a warning, pointing at the entrance.
A fish-like creature was swimming in- no, dolphin-like. It turned out to be another merellin, and as the group had already seen how helpful those cetacean-folk could be, they quickly made alliance, swimming to the surface to talk. This one was Fliperandrax (Flipper for short), a priestess of the Sea Queen. Once again Galiger found himself grateful to be in non-Galadorian religious company.
“But what are you doing here?” Chanti inquired.
“I’m looking for my brother,” Flipper told them, and immediately the rest of the group thought of the larder. Shortly they showed the merellin corpse to Flipper, who was clearly shaken by the site. It was indeed her brother, and she vowed vengeance in his name.
“Then let’s go,” cried Malford. “Down below!”
“Wait!” Chanti called. “Before we go, let us sing a sea chanty!” And they did, singing one of the chanties that Chanticleer had written. Then it was back down with them...
*Dexter’s player’s new character, strength (rolled in front of me) 18 (00).
From the larder where they’d shown Flipper her brother’s body, our heroes (ah, what irony) descended into a series of three chambers shaped into the coral. Two were merely empty, but one held small cages. Another passage led them into a large chamber with another series of drowned ones, five in number! Furious battle was joined in the greasy water. Lyr’s harpoon proved deadly and true, Vido fought with two blades in a deadly whirlwind, and Malford stabbed with shortsword and dagger. Chanti, too, proved efficacious, and Flipper butted her long nose furiously at the sea zombies. Soon they were destroyed, and a quick search turned up a blocked exit.
About an hour of hard labor later, the party had excavated enough rocks from the coral passage that they reached another branch of the tunnel. This led to a long ascent to an area with a bubble of air in the top part of the chamber, along with shackles set in the wall near it. “Interesting,” remarked Lyr. Galiger scoffed at her but studied the shackles with interest. Flipper refilled her lungs.
The party went on, there being two more exits from the chamber with the bubble. As they moved out, a weird creature that seemed made from the coral itself attacked, surprising them! Again there was battle; the creature swung jagged coral appendages at them, tearing their flesh. Chanti closed corps a corps with it, stabbing viciously, and Flipper smashed it from behind. Galiger stabbed at it with his spear, his axe having already proved useless underwater. The monster roared bubbles and struck Chanti, who stumbled and fell unconscious, floating helplessly. With a cry, Galiger struck a final blow and the monster fell dead, his spear in its midsection. “No one kills a follower of Bleak!” he cried angrily. A brief discussion ensued, and the party returned to Captain Drake’s vessel to heal and recuperate. Flipper was the only cleric with healing spells, so she did her best, but everyone was scraped and bruised or worse. So she worked mosty to bring Chanti around.
The next day, the party descended again. They investigated the other exit from the bubble chamber and found a chest of corroded iron, within which were 10,000 silvers, a ruby, a sapphire (which Malford badly misappraised as worth only half its value) and an opal- a total value of about 3000 gp! “This is probably enough to buy our ship,” Malford remarks, and the whole group perks up at the thought. They’ll be pirates! Arr!
Still, they’d seen no sign of the spell they were after. Returning to the tunnel they’d excavated, Vido pointed out that, within the coral, it was still full of rocks below them. They began excavating and found that it did indeed descend further. Heartened, our heroes started pulling yet more rocks out, and in about another hour of hard work, they came to the bottom. On each side is another blocked passage. Groaning in frustration, the party started on first one- which led to the bloated corpse of a sea elf surrounded by instruments of torture (which Galiger and Lyr snatched up greedily). Then they got to work clearing the next passage, and as they did so, they discovered the killer of the sea elves.
Her name was Vellis, and she was a sea hag. The very sight of her was so ghastly that the party quailed and weakened, and she screeched out at them, clawing with her black nails, gouging the face of Vido badly. The ranger/mage cried out, falling back, the strength fleeing from his limbs, and Chanti, Flipper, Malford and Galiger all likewise flet their strength leave them. They battled Vellis weakly, but she slapped them about like fish. A minor wound from Malford’s dagger angered her; another, worse blow, from Lyr’s harpoon, and she was furious. But she was outnumbered. Even taking Malford and the still-wounded Chanti down, she couldn’t withstand the party- especially Lyr, unweakened, and her deadly harpoon. Piercing again and again, the cannibal-priestess screamed in grim triumph as she savagely thrust a final time and drove her barbed harpoon completely through Vellis, then drew forth a dagger and frenziedly pulled her heart from her body and consumed it, crowing in triumph.
A little investigation found a number of lootworthy items on the sea hag, including a sealed scroll tube- hopefully containing the scroll they needed!- a ring of worked whalebone set with a white pearl, another ring, this one of shark’s teeth set with a loop of gold, and a dagger of weird silvery iron. (This, Malford told them with his alchemist’s knowledge, was silveriron- a special magical alloy of cold iron and silver, worked together without heat.) Within a whalebone chest they found close to another thousand gold and 33 pp, as well as a key which they took (but never subsequently found the hidden chamber which it opened, alas).
Then back up to Captain Drake’s boat they went. They dried the scroll tube thoroughly, and opening it up found it did indeed have the scroll their employer sought. Drake happily took them back to port. Chanticleer noticed a wanted poster and raised an eyebrow; the party had a decent price on their heads already. They finished their business with Valkor, received their payment and then decided to vacate Forinthia; things were getting too hot for them.
“Where shall we go?” Galiger asked. Together, the group poured over a map. Forinthia, naturally, was in the center, as was fitting for the center of the world. To the west, there were a couple of reasonably-sized isles, Balramamous and Winwillow; to the east, another, Aerisa. Nothing was north for thousands of miles. South was Gorel, an isle full of elves subverted by the Forinthian Empire.
Malford suggests, “What about Gorel? Probably the elves there are no friends to Forinthia; I’ll bet we can hide out there fairly easily.” The group agreed, and a discrete meeting with Captain Drake allowed them to come to terms. Soon they were sailing south....
By now we're in the middle of game #7 (titled the Sea Hag). Here's a rundown of the pcs...
Malford (gnome thief/illusionist 3/2) -CN
Galiger (human cleric of Bleak 2) -CE
Vido (half-elf ranger/mage 1/1) -CG
Lyr (cleric of the Sea, Sky & Land 2) -NE
Chanticleer (elf fighter 1) -CN
Flipper (merellin cleric of the Sea Queen 1) -CN
I'll post some goodies on here before too long, like Galiger's old logs, more of Chanti's sea chanties (the next one involves an adventure that they haven't yet reached), old notes, etc. All as they come up in the story, of course.
It's interesting to note that even at this point you've got a mix of levels.
__________________ DM of Adventure Path Story Hour (now in Thunderspire Labyrinth!): Ryam Plays Dice - updated 8th June 09 (campaign on indefinite hiatus).
Player in Swordlands Story Hour: Interview with a Fey - updated 15th June 09. News just in - this campaign may be restarting in the near future! Watch this space!
I also have the singular honour of being Rouseketeer #20.
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