Emperor Valerian
First Post
This is the author. I have decided to mention that this game has grown far beyond my small initial expectations.
Originally it was intended as a game of DM training (I had been a player for about 4 months effectively beforehand... a month in high school and 3 months in college), a chance for me to practice before striking out "on my own," next fall at graduate school.
Instead it has grown into an epic tale of three characters... and how they have begun to shape the world around them. Most of this is due to the creativity and excellence of my players... they are the ones that make this thing come to life
With that note, read and enjoy. I'm leaving everything else as is... the first sections of the story are rough, as I was getting acclimated to being on the other side of the screen... and thereafter, the story takes off..
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Well, this is my first time DMing a D&D game. I had previously played some in high school, and had gotten out of practice until restarting again this fall in Ray Silver’s game. As an intro to DMing, I’m running a small game with two players and two NPCs.
The characters in the initial adventure:
Rogar Midras – ? level ? (one of the mysteries of the adventure to be revealed as the story continues!
)
Rogar is a mysterious man in black when our PCs first meet him, with his rapier at his side. His intentions (other than participating in the quest and a seeming constant search for money) are unknown… (NPC) They initially meet him when he is alongside Dingalas Sorenham, who is collecting on Rogar’s life debt to him… (NPC)
Dingalas Sorenham – 4th level cleric of the god Tarantor (lawful neutral god of law… realms of knowledge, strength, protection, and war)
A cute, seemingly cuddly and forgetful old man (who at times can’t hear someone shouting next to him), but don’t be fooled. Dingalas Sorenham was a war cleric of Tarantor, and while his eyesight and hearing are failing, they still function well enough that one can easily find a morningstar buried in one’s jaw.
Dingalas desires to go on one last, grand adventure before he retires to his farm outside of Holstean. Knowing that his younger friend Rogar has connections (and a life debt to him), Dingalas has stubbornly insisted that Rogar help him get involved in another adventure. (NPC)
Tessoren Keldare, known as Tessoren the Harper – 4th level Bard (Monte Cook style bard, mind you
)
Tessoren, Tess as she is known to everyone, is a bard of remarkable skill and quality. Taller than average and clad in elegant clothing, she plays a small harp as her instrument. Beware however, for her knowledge of music is also powerful in the realm of magic, and her harp can quickly go from being a instrument of music to an instrument of death as soon as an arrow is locked within its strings (she’s got a harpbow)…
Siabrey – 3rd level Fighter/ 1 ECL
Siabrey is a rather unusual character in the fact she is not human, or dwarven, halfing, or any of the other common races within the Empire. Instead she is half Siabre.
Her mother was a traveler, who somehow found herself carrying the child of a Siabre from the deserts within the Balarac Mountains. Her travels continued, and she gave birth to what would have been an average baby, save several unusual features… namely her dark coppery/red skin, bright yellow hair, and small set of (flightless) wings.
Now in her early 20s, Siabrey has worked as a skilled mercenary for some time. In areas to the north of Holstean the bandits tell stories of a woman with skin the color of fire , hair the color of the sun in brilliant chainmail that slays with an unusual blade (a katana) . Siabrey now finds herself having recently completed her last job of hunting down certain unsavory individuals, and at the start of the day is entering the city of Holstean, in look of work and a place to stay for the night. Several recommendations pointed her to the Red Horse Inn, an upper scale (in terms of upkeep) reasonably priced establishment. However, as she approached the inn, she noticed something odd for a city filled with dwarves… even for this early of hour
(Note: I got the help of my old DM to balance out this character. The player agreed to take an ECL, in return for bonuses to Dex and Charisma and a minus to Strength, in addition to other heavily muted down racial benefits (detect magic once per day / level, fairie fire the same, and resistance to sonic attacks))
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Siabrey blinked in the bright sunlight adjusting her cloak so she could scratch her arm. The once deep wound that an opposing fool had given her there was now completely healed, a scar and slight itch all that remained of its once painful existence. She ignored the stares she received from those on all sides.
She was used to them… after all, not many people were used to seeing a woman clad in chainmail boasting a large, nasty looking sword in these parts. Even fewer people were used to seeing such a person with the deep copper red skin of a desert dweller coupled with the bright blonde hair of a high human.
Instead of watching the eyes on her (instead her peripheral vision kept contact, giving her a chance to react should anyone make a sudden or threatening move), she spotted up ahead a sign hanging above the door of what looked to be a reputable tavern. Emblazoned on it was a red horse, rearing on its hind legs.
“Ah, the Red Horse Inn,” Siabrey smiled. She’d heard about the place when she was in Halfnir, a village outside of the city. They had some of the best drinks and food, at a reasonable price. Her tummy warmed at the thought of a large dinner with the gold in her pocket, along with sips of dwarven ale.
As a nearly one third dwarven city (there are mountains on three sides of Holstean and the river valley it is nestled in) one would expect a tavern of such repute to always be at least half full with a raucous crowd of stout folk. As Siabrey approached, her eyebrows rose in confusion.
From the wide open door to the drinking hall of the tavern came none of the usual shouts and screeches of carousers. Only measured, in some cases, quiet, talking. Her curiousity piqued, she shifted her cloak to make sure her wings were completely concealed, and she strode inside.
She was used to hearing catcalls and noises when she entered a bar… for some strange reason human males found her fascinating (maybe it was the concept of a female striding around with a sword in armor), and because of her skin color, she was an easy target for whistles. She was surprised when only one came from a table nearby, and the fellow was promptly cuffed by one of his drinking buddies. All looked dour… even the many dwarves present, who merely sipped their ale instead of downing it as she expected.
“Something is terribly out of line here,” she thought to herself as she walked over to the one malcontent that had made the loud whistle. She gave him a snarl, and he curled up slightly. Satisfied that she’d made an example, she set about attempting to find out what happened. She walked to the bar, where a short dwarven man called out, “Whadallit be, luv?” as he finished shining up a stein for ale.
“One ale,” she said, and the dwarf let loose a small smile and reached for the giant cask of dwarven ale. She shook her head, and said, “tarabashi ale… I fully admit my weakeness.” The bartender nodded, and within a few seconds a stein appeared before her. Before the barkeep could leave, she popped her question.
“What exactly happened here? I know your kind, friend dwarf, and something must be terribly wrong for them to not be as.. merry as usual.”
The barkeep sighed.
“Things haven’t been quite the same since the Countess’ son was kidnapped. The boy was well liked,” he started cleaning another stein. His eyes bespoke of sadness for the boy, and more sadness for the slower stream of gold coming into his pockets due to careful drinkers. “He disappeared early yesterday morning, his party ambushed by goblins or orcs of some kind. The Palace has some massive searches goings on. Many of the normal patrons are there… and for the rest, this news bodes ill for many of their trades… the young lord was taken only two miles south of the city walls.”
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Tessoren too was intrigued by the silence from within the bar, but her purpose here was different than her as yet unmet companion. A traveling bard of some repute, Tesseron had be hired by the proprietors of the Red Horse Inn to do a series of performances (her harp skills were approaching star status in the towns on the plains of the Inerman river north of the city). The inn was upscale, and profits and tips were likely to be high. Like Siabrey, she knew something was very wrong when she heard this normally loud cantankerous place quiet.
She strode up to the bar as well, taking a seat next to a warrior with long, golden hair. As she approached, she heard the phrase, “…Countess’ son was kidnapped.” Her ears immediately perked up as her bard senses went into gossip overgear.
“…disappeared early yesterday morning, his party ambushed…”
She climbed on a stool at the bar next to the blonde warrior, and only then noticed that the warrior was not the expected he, but a she with deep copper skin. Obviously not from the area. Her listening skills though picked up a break in the conversation, and she immediately interjected.
“Where are the search efforts being concentrated?” she asked. The barkeep looked to her, and his eyes briefly gleamed as he saw another person to spread gossip with. He leaned between Tessoren and the copper girl, and whispered, “most of the searchin’ is to the south and east, in the spine of the Balarac Mountains. However,” she said in a conspirital tone, “the Palace…”
“Is hiring out people to hunt for His Lordship,” another man sitting nearby finished, joining in the rumor mill. Others joined as well, amazed that there were patrons present who did not already know the gory details. Soon, others began the story from the beginning while the barkeep, annoyed some were stealing his thunder, merely talked over them.
“There is a reward of 2500 gold for the person who brings back His Lordship safe and sound. They’re trying to keep restrictions on who goes out… after all, they don’t want people running amok, and causing more trouble!”
“Like you would Grouse!” someone from the growing cluster of people said, and there was a thin, nervous laugh from several people. Its life was tenuous because of the dour mood, and it promptly died when the barkeep growled his displeasure.
“Where does one officially form a group to search for His Lordship?” Tessoren asked. A chorus of responses arrived, and after some requests and demands for only one person to speak, the phrase “Guards Barracks” was discerned as was the requirement that four members were the minimum to form a search party. Tessoren looked to the bronzed warrior, and remarked, “It appears that you are interested in the same as I. Let us work together on this. A shared reward is better than none at all.”
“True, and I accept,” the woman answered before putting out her hand. “Siabrey, and you likely can guess my occupation,” she motioned to the long, extremely sharp blade on her hip.
“Tessoren, though many know me as Tess,” Tess replied, “and likely you can guess mine,” she motioned to her own harp behind her.
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Later, and the Guard’s Barracks
A scruffy looking man in armor looked over Tesseron and Siabrey, practically sniffing them. Tesseron reacted slightly with some displeasure, while Siabrey looked rather annoyed.
“You’re free to enter,” he finally said gruffly, motioning to the door. “Sorry about the stiff handling, but we’ve had a rash of amateurs trying to ‘join in the fun.’ This is serious business, and we’re looking for serious folks, not more victims to rescue.”
“Thanks,” Siabrey said rather tersely as the two entered a large hall, its floor covered in dried mud. Near the far end of the hall was a desk, with a rather well kept man sitting behind it and a small supply of parchments and pens in front of him. By his bronze, decorated armor, Siabrey guessed he was an officer of some sort.
Her eyes were diverted from him momentarily however, as a small verbal scuffled developed between a guard next to him, and a gentlemen dressed in black. His hair was streaked with grey, and to his side was another man, dressed in platemail, his elderly face crowned with a long mane of white hair, and his cheeks and chin surrounded by a sea of grey beard. The words exchanged were low, but the harsh rasp of anger wafted to her ears. Both she and Tess walked over slowly, and the words became understandable.
“Why the hell is there this idiotic requirement!? Me and Dingalas here are more than capable of taking care of ourselves! I was adventuring when you were but a whelp, and Dingalas was adventuring when I was!”
“The minimum for a search party is four, and I’m not certain this old man can seriously be counted as a fighting body,” the guard said, his voice annoyed. Siabrey tapped him on the shoulder, and he started to turn around before the annoyed man tapped him harder, drawing his attention back.
“You don’t understand! I owe him a life debt! He must go!”
“What?” the old man cupped his ear and strained hard. “Speak up! I’m not griping about any bets!” The man in black turned and motioned for the elderly fellow to pipe down. He did momentarily as the other fellow and the guard continued their rumblings, but then he noticed Siabrey and Tess.
“My,” he practically shuffled over, “what nice young ladies!” He held out his hand, and took Tess’ into both of his. “My name, is Dingalas Soreham, an old man. What are yours?”
Tess introduced herself, as did Siabrey. The old man smiled, though his face looked rather blank, and said happily, “Rogar, I think I have made some friends. Aren’t these two young ladies nice? Polite young ones too. A rarity, I tell you! The young people these days, so rude…”
The man named Rogar gave a glare to the guardsman, and introduced himself with a deep bow. Siabrey noticed his features were rough; hardly handsome but heavily scarred, with the deep etches of experience and time in his wrinkles. “My name is Rogar… yes, that is what is needed for now. I am pleased to make your lovely aquiantance.”
Tess managed a diplomatic smile, while Siabrey’s was less covering. Her mind screamed, “slimy bastard,” and her face covered most of it.
“I see you have need of two more people,” Tess said quietly. “Perhaps we could be of service, as we are looking for a party as well.”
Rogar looked at the guard, and gave a look of triumph. “Excellent!”
“Before that,” Siabrey said quietly, “I don’t know about Tess, but I’d like to ask you a few questions about the old man there,” she motioned to Dingalas, who was happily humming a tune and scratching himself.
“Dingalas!” Rogar called, “can you signed the proper forms?” The old man took a few seconds to comprehend, and then nodded, “Yes yes, I think that shall be good. Yes it shall. Yes yes.” As he shuffled over to the table, the guard that had been arguing with them gave a sigh (likely of relief that these two noodlebrains would soon stop annoying him) and followed him over to the commander’s table. After the old man was a safe distance away, Rogar leaned towards the two women.
”My friend Dingalas here is a bit…”
“Old?” Siabrey volunteered, and Rogar nodded.
“He was once a war cleric in the service of the Countess’ father, many years ago. The adventuring bug caught him, and he traveled far and wide doing many good deeds. One of those was saving my life… and I owe him a debt.
He wants to have one was adventure before he takes off his armor for good, and I promised him that I would repay the life debt by this. He’s sane, just senile.” The two nodded, and Siabrey had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she thought that instead of finding a lost prince, she would now have to babysit a senile old man…
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A few hours later, the new party met outside of the Guards Barracks. Siabrey and Tess already had mounts, and had enough coinage left that they paid for ponies for the other two. The troupe then set out, their target being the Acalite Cliffs, and the immense gorge there. The Guards at the barracks had mentioned it was an area that was not being scouted (the warband that had kidnapped the young count had been seen heading another direction, which is where most of the searches were focused), but the area likely had goblins and orcs. Even if the prince wasn’t there, the party stood to gain a fair bit of money collecting bounties of 50 gold for each dead orc, goblin, hobgoblin or bugbear.
The gorge was some three days travel to the south, and the party made headway their first day. As the journey went, they gradually learned more about each other… Tess learned that Siabrey was a mercenary by trade, and told Siabrey of her skills with the harp and tales of wild inn performances. Both of them learned that Dingalas was a kindly old gentlemen that loved to tell stories of his youth, but was sadly lacking in hearing and at times in sight. Nonetheless, a nasty morningstar hung from one side of his armor, a crossbow from the other. Tess wasn’t sure if the enemy should fear any shooting he might do with it more than she should.
Along the way they encountered a traveling merchant who was heading north to Holstean. He told them that his caravan had just missed being the victim of a goblin attack, while others behind him were not so lucky. Siabrey offered to pay the man 5 silver to inform the city guard of the events, which the man politely refused, saying it was his honor to do what little he could to “rid the world of ‘dem littl’ buggers.”
The first nights camp was in a light wood along the side of the road. On second watch, Siabrey thought she heard a faint rustling among the plants. Looking to her left, she saw a set of yellow eyes staring at her. Drawing her katana, she called out, “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Meeow.”
Quizzled, she crept slowly to that side of the encampment, closer to the eyes and the noise. The creature moved again, closer to the camp, and into the firelight. It was a white striped housecat, which mewed at her once again. She pulled a few morsels from her trail rations, and almost instantly had a new best friend.
The next day the party headed further south. Around midday, they passed through a small wood in the midst of glorious sunshine. The birds were singing, the sky was blue, and all seemed fine and happy in the world.
Ironically it was the nearly deaf man that noticed something was wrong.
“Hey… why’ve the birds… the birds stopped their singing,” his strained voice rang out. Siabrey reined up her horse, and immediately began looking around. She spotted a moving shape, then more, and her cry rang out:
“Ambush!”
The band of four goblins, two hobgoblins, and a bugbear had been shadowing the group since they’d entered the wood. This locale had been selected as an ideal ambush location, yet somehow the group had not managed to organize themselves well. Told to wait behind until the signal was given, the two goblins armed with short swords arrived late, and it was their crashing that threw off the birds… and alerted the party.
The two goblins in place, armed with javelins, let loose against the party, both of their missiles flying awry. Siabrey pulled out her longbow, and let loose a shot, which struck the bugbear in the upper shoulder, knocking him back. To Siabrey’s surprise, Tess pulled out her harp, and began playing. Almost immediately, one of the hobgoblins began to howl in pain. (songstrike)
Dingalas, for his good luck in hearing, had horrible luck in shooting, as his crossbow bolt flew high. Rogar’s luck was not good either, as his bolt also flew awry.
The bugbear, angered at Siabrey’s audacity to shoot it, lunged forward, with a hobgoglin in cohorts. The two reached Siabrey and Dingalas respectively, and a furious battle began, as they swung their morningtars, and Siabrey and Dingalas responded. Dingalas somehow managed a punishing blow to the bugbear's head, and the creature staggered. Siabrey missed, as did Rogar.
Tess’ notes changed, and once again, its harmful effects devastated the ambushers. The wailing hobgoblin dropped dead, as did two of the goblins. Their eyes seemed to explode from their heads, and they collapsed, writhing.
The bugbear and hobgoblin in the party's face continued to swing, the bugbear connecting a punishing blow on Rogar which sent him reeling. Siabrey’s katana flashed through the air, but before it could connect, a dagger of light flashed from Tess' hand into the hoboglin's neck, dispatching it to the netherworlds.
True to their cowardly nature, the two remaining goblins in the woods broke and fled. Siabrey and Tess set off in pursuit, as Rogar and Dingalas fought the badly weakened bugbear. The beast, normally powerful, hds been weakened by a series of stirring blows to the head, allowing the elderly Dingalas to deliver a crushing blow on its skull, leaving its face caved in.
Meanwhile, Siabrey and Tess took up positions on the edges of the wood. As Siabrey loaded her bow, she noticed that Tess put an arrow into her harp. Her combat brain took over before she can wonder about it too much, as Tess’ arrow flashed through the forest and smashed the goblin in the back of the skull. It drops immediately.
Siabrey’s arrow instead flashed through the forest into the other goblins left leg. The blow from the arrow came directly into the back of the creatures knee, slashing tendons, and it fell to the ground, writhing but overall helpless. Within seconds, the two were upon it, and Tess asked it if it knew where the kidnapped noble was being held. It responded by spitting in her face… a move that prompted Siabrey’s foot to suddenly put pressure on its neck, and her blade to chop off its hand. It screeched in pain, and between gasps, said it did indeed know of the captured noblemen. Siabrey proposed and the party agreed that the creature should be taken with to lead them to its family’s lair. The goblin wreathed when Siabrey first attempted to pick it up, only to fall helpless to the ground again. Her second attempt at hefting the creature worked, and he soon found himself facing backwards above the rear of her warhorse, bound.
Another night, and the party soon arrived at the gorge that the Guardsmen had been talking about. As they rode through, Tess noticed something unusual to the side… what appeared to be a normal cave entrance, save that it was surrounded by two columns and topped by what looked to be a carved relief of a temple roof.
After some “persuasion,” (in other words, threats to cut his other hand off) the goblin revealed that indeed, his clan’s lair was there. After the party checked and found the cliffs were unscalable (and no other entrances were making themselves apparent), he tied the goblin up to a tree, their horses to another, and entered into the cave.
Upon closer inspection, they immediately confirmed this was no cave… the walls were far too smooth and even. The only thing giving it a cavelike feel were two stalagtites hanging from the ceiling above.
One of which attempted to smash Siabrey, who was in the lead.
Bows were drawn, and a hail of arrows struck both stalagtites, killing the darkmantles dead. Thoroughly paranoid, the party proceeded further…

Instead it has grown into an epic tale of three characters... and how they have begun to shape the world around them. Most of this is due to the creativity and excellence of my players... they are the ones that make this thing come to life

With that note, read and enjoy. I'm leaving everything else as is... the first sections of the story are rough, as I was getting acclimated to being on the other side of the screen... and thereafter, the story takes off..
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Well, this is my first time DMing a D&D game. I had previously played some in high school, and had gotten out of practice until restarting again this fall in Ray Silver’s game. As an intro to DMing, I’m running a small game with two players and two NPCs.
The characters in the initial adventure:
Rogar Midras – ? level ? (one of the mysteries of the adventure to be revealed as the story continues!

Rogar is a mysterious man in black when our PCs first meet him, with his rapier at his side. His intentions (other than participating in the quest and a seeming constant search for money) are unknown… (NPC) They initially meet him when he is alongside Dingalas Sorenham, who is collecting on Rogar’s life debt to him… (NPC)
Dingalas Sorenham – 4th level cleric of the god Tarantor (lawful neutral god of law… realms of knowledge, strength, protection, and war)
A cute, seemingly cuddly and forgetful old man (who at times can’t hear someone shouting next to him), but don’t be fooled. Dingalas Sorenham was a war cleric of Tarantor, and while his eyesight and hearing are failing, they still function well enough that one can easily find a morningstar buried in one’s jaw.
Dingalas desires to go on one last, grand adventure before he retires to his farm outside of Holstean. Knowing that his younger friend Rogar has connections (and a life debt to him), Dingalas has stubbornly insisted that Rogar help him get involved in another adventure. (NPC)
Tessoren Keldare, known as Tessoren the Harper – 4th level Bard (Monte Cook style bard, mind you

Tessoren, Tess as she is known to everyone, is a bard of remarkable skill and quality. Taller than average and clad in elegant clothing, she plays a small harp as her instrument. Beware however, for her knowledge of music is also powerful in the realm of magic, and her harp can quickly go from being a instrument of music to an instrument of death as soon as an arrow is locked within its strings (she’s got a harpbow)…
Siabrey – 3rd level Fighter/ 1 ECL
Siabrey is a rather unusual character in the fact she is not human, or dwarven, halfing, or any of the other common races within the Empire. Instead she is half Siabre.
Her mother was a traveler, who somehow found herself carrying the child of a Siabre from the deserts within the Balarac Mountains. Her travels continued, and she gave birth to what would have been an average baby, save several unusual features… namely her dark coppery/red skin, bright yellow hair, and small set of (flightless) wings.
Now in her early 20s, Siabrey has worked as a skilled mercenary for some time. In areas to the north of Holstean the bandits tell stories of a woman with skin the color of fire , hair the color of the sun in brilliant chainmail that slays with an unusual blade (a katana) . Siabrey now finds herself having recently completed her last job of hunting down certain unsavory individuals, and at the start of the day is entering the city of Holstean, in look of work and a place to stay for the night. Several recommendations pointed her to the Red Horse Inn, an upper scale (in terms of upkeep) reasonably priced establishment. However, as she approached the inn, she noticed something odd for a city filled with dwarves… even for this early of hour
(Note: I got the help of my old DM to balance out this character. The player agreed to take an ECL, in return for bonuses to Dex and Charisma and a minus to Strength, in addition to other heavily muted down racial benefits (detect magic once per day / level, fairie fire the same, and resistance to sonic attacks))
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Siabrey blinked in the bright sunlight adjusting her cloak so she could scratch her arm. The once deep wound that an opposing fool had given her there was now completely healed, a scar and slight itch all that remained of its once painful existence. She ignored the stares she received from those on all sides.
She was used to them… after all, not many people were used to seeing a woman clad in chainmail boasting a large, nasty looking sword in these parts. Even fewer people were used to seeing such a person with the deep copper red skin of a desert dweller coupled with the bright blonde hair of a high human.
Instead of watching the eyes on her (instead her peripheral vision kept contact, giving her a chance to react should anyone make a sudden or threatening move), she spotted up ahead a sign hanging above the door of what looked to be a reputable tavern. Emblazoned on it was a red horse, rearing on its hind legs.
“Ah, the Red Horse Inn,” Siabrey smiled. She’d heard about the place when she was in Halfnir, a village outside of the city. They had some of the best drinks and food, at a reasonable price. Her tummy warmed at the thought of a large dinner with the gold in her pocket, along with sips of dwarven ale.
As a nearly one third dwarven city (there are mountains on three sides of Holstean and the river valley it is nestled in) one would expect a tavern of such repute to always be at least half full with a raucous crowd of stout folk. As Siabrey approached, her eyebrows rose in confusion.
From the wide open door to the drinking hall of the tavern came none of the usual shouts and screeches of carousers. Only measured, in some cases, quiet, talking. Her curiousity piqued, she shifted her cloak to make sure her wings were completely concealed, and she strode inside.
She was used to hearing catcalls and noises when she entered a bar… for some strange reason human males found her fascinating (maybe it was the concept of a female striding around with a sword in armor), and because of her skin color, she was an easy target for whistles. She was surprised when only one came from a table nearby, and the fellow was promptly cuffed by one of his drinking buddies. All looked dour… even the many dwarves present, who merely sipped their ale instead of downing it as she expected.
“Something is terribly out of line here,” she thought to herself as she walked over to the one malcontent that had made the loud whistle. She gave him a snarl, and he curled up slightly. Satisfied that she’d made an example, she set about attempting to find out what happened. She walked to the bar, where a short dwarven man called out, “Whadallit be, luv?” as he finished shining up a stein for ale.
“One ale,” she said, and the dwarf let loose a small smile and reached for the giant cask of dwarven ale. She shook her head, and said, “tarabashi ale… I fully admit my weakeness.” The bartender nodded, and within a few seconds a stein appeared before her. Before the barkeep could leave, she popped her question.
“What exactly happened here? I know your kind, friend dwarf, and something must be terribly wrong for them to not be as.. merry as usual.”
The barkeep sighed.
“Things haven’t been quite the same since the Countess’ son was kidnapped. The boy was well liked,” he started cleaning another stein. His eyes bespoke of sadness for the boy, and more sadness for the slower stream of gold coming into his pockets due to careful drinkers. “He disappeared early yesterday morning, his party ambushed by goblins or orcs of some kind. The Palace has some massive searches goings on. Many of the normal patrons are there… and for the rest, this news bodes ill for many of their trades… the young lord was taken only two miles south of the city walls.”
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Tessoren too was intrigued by the silence from within the bar, but her purpose here was different than her as yet unmet companion. A traveling bard of some repute, Tesseron had be hired by the proprietors of the Red Horse Inn to do a series of performances (her harp skills were approaching star status in the towns on the plains of the Inerman river north of the city). The inn was upscale, and profits and tips were likely to be high. Like Siabrey, she knew something was very wrong when she heard this normally loud cantankerous place quiet.
She strode up to the bar as well, taking a seat next to a warrior with long, golden hair. As she approached, she heard the phrase, “…Countess’ son was kidnapped.” Her ears immediately perked up as her bard senses went into gossip overgear.
“…disappeared early yesterday morning, his party ambushed…”
She climbed on a stool at the bar next to the blonde warrior, and only then noticed that the warrior was not the expected he, but a she with deep copper skin. Obviously not from the area. Her listening skills though picked up a break in the conversation, and she immediately interjected.
“Where are the search efforts being concentrated?” she asked. The barkeep looked to her, and his eyes briefly gleamed as he saw another person to spread gossip with. He leaned between Tessoren and the copper girl, and whispered, “most of the searchin’ is to the south and east, in the spine of the Balarac Mountains. However,” she said in a conspirital tone, “the Palace…”
“Is hiring out people to hunt for His Lordship,” another man sitting nearby finished, joining in the rumor mill. Others joined as well, amazed that there were patrons present who did not already know the gory details. Soon, others began the story from the beginning while the barkeep, annoyed some were stealing his thunder, merely talked over them.
“There is a reward of 2500 gold for the person who brings back His Lordship safe and sound. They’re trying to keep restrictions on who goes out… after all, they don’t want people running amok, and causing more trouble!”
“Like you would Grouse!” someone from the growing cluster of people said, and there was a thin, nervous laugh from several people. Its life was tenuous because of the dour mood, and it promptly died when the barkeep growled his displeasure.
“Where does one officially form a group to search for His Lordship?” Tessoren asked. A chorus of responses arrived, and after some requests and demands for only one person to speak, the phrase “Guards Barracks” was discerned as was the requirement that four members were the minimum to form a search party. Tessoren looked to the bronzed warrior, and remarked, “It appears that you are interested in the same as I. Let us work together on this. A shared reward is better than none at all.”
“True, and I accept,” the woman answered before putting out her hand. “Siabrey, and you likely can guess my occupation,” she motioned to the long, extremely sharp blade on her hip.
“Tessoren, though many know me as Tess,” Tess replied, “and likely you can guess mine,” she motioned to her own harp behind her.
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Later, and the Guard’s Barracks
A scruffy looking man in armor looked over Tesseron and Siabrey, practically sniffing them. Tesseron reacted slightly with some displeasure, while Siabrey looked rather annoyed.
“You’re free to enter,” he finally said gruffly, motioning to the door. “Sorry about the stiff handling, but we’ve had a rash of amateurs trying to ‘join in the fun.’ This is serious business, and we’re looking for serious folks, not more victims to rescue.”
“Thanks,” Siabrey said rather tersely as the two entered a large hall, its floor covered in dried mud. Near the far end of the hall was a desk, with a rather well kept man sitting behind it and a small supply of parchments and pens in front of him. By his bronze, decorated armor, Siabrey guessed he was an officer of some sort.
Her eyes were diverted from him momentarily however, as a small verbal scuffled developed between a guard next to him, and a gentlemen dressed in black. His hair was streaked with grey, and to his side was another man, dressed in platemail, his elderly face crowned with a long mane of white hair, and his cheeks and chin surrounded by a sea of grey beard. The words exchanged were low, but the harsh rasp of anger wafted to her ears. Both she and Tess walked over slowly, and the words became understandable.
“Why the hell is there this idiotic requirement!? Me and Dingalas here are more than capable of taking care of ourselves! I was adventuring when you were but a whelp, and Dingalas was adventuring when I was!”
“The minimum for a search party is four, and I’m not certain this old man can seriously be counted as a fighting body,” the guard said, his voice annoyed. Siabrey tapped him on the shoulder, and he started to turn around before the annoyed man tapped him harder, drawing his attention back.
“You don’t understand! I owe him a life debt! He must go!”
“What?” the old man cupped his ear and strained hard. “Speak up! I’m not griping about any bets!” The man in black turned and motioned for the elderly fellow to pipe down. He did momentarily as the other fellow and the guard continued their rumblings, but then he noticed Siabrey and Tess.
“My,” he practically shuffled over, “what nice young ladies!” He held out his hand, and took Tess’ into both of his. “My name, is Dingalas Soreham, an old man. What are yours?”
Tess introduced herself, as did Siabrey. The old man smiled, though his face looked rather blank, and said happily, “Rogar, I think I have made some friends. Aren’t these two young ladies nice? Polite young ones too. A rarity, I tell you! The young people these days, so rude…”
The man named Rogar gave a glare to the guardsman, and introduced himself with a deep bow. Siabrey noticed his features were rough; hardly handsome but heavily scarred, with the deep etches of experience and time in his wrinkles. “My name is Rogar… yes, that is what is needed for now. I am pleased to make your lovely aquiantance.”
Tess managed a diplomatic smile, while Siabrey’s was less covering. Her mind screamed, “slimy bastard,” and her face covered most of it.
“I see you have need of two more people,” Tess said quietly. “Perhaps we could be of service, as we are looking for a party as well.”
Rogar looked at the guard, and gave a look of triumph. “Excellent!”
“Before that,” Siabrey said quietly, “I don’t know about Tess, but I’d like to ask you a few questions about the old man there,” she motioned to Dingalas, who was happily humming a tune and scratching himself.
“Dingalas!” Rogar called, “can you signed the proper forms?” The old man took a few seconds to comprehend, and then nodded, “Yes yes, I think that shall be good. Yes it shall. Yes yes.” As he shuffled over to the table, the guard that had been arguing with them gave a sigh (likely of relief that these two noodlebrains would soon stop annoying him) and followed him over to the commander’s table. After the old man was a safe distance away, Rogar leaned towards the two women.
”My friend Dingalas here is a bit…”
“Old?” Siabrey volunteered, and Rogar nodded.
“He was once a war cleric in the service of the Countess’ father, many years ago. The adventuring bug caught him, and he traveled far and wide doing many good deeds. One of those was saving my life… and I owe him a debt.
He wants to have one was adventure before he takes off his armor for good, and I promised him that I would repay the life debt by this. He’s sane, just senile.” The two nodded, and Siabrey had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she thought that instead of finding a lost prince, she would now have to babysit a senile old man…
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A few hours later, the new party met outside of the Guards Barracks. Siabrey and Tess already had mounts, and had enough coinage left that they paid for ponies for the other two. The troupe then set out, their target being the Acalite Cliffs, and the immense gorge there. The Guards at the barracks had mentioned it was an area that was not being scouted (the warband that had kidnapped the young count had been seen heading another direction, which is where most of the searches were focused), but the area likely had goblins and orcs. Even if the prince wasn’t there, the party stood to gain a fair bit of money collecting bounties of 50 gold for each dead orc, goblin, hobgoblin or bugbear.
The gorge was some three days travel to the south, and the party made headway their first day. As the journey went, they gradually learned more about each other… Tess learned that Siabrey was a mercenary by trade, and told Siabrey of her skills with the harp and tales of wild inn performances. Both of them learned that Dingalas was a kindly old gentlemen that loved to tell stories of his youth, but was sadly lacking in hearing and at times in sight. Nonetheless, a nasty morningstar hung from one side of his armor, a crossbow from the other. Tess wasn’t sure if the enemy should fear any shooting he might do with it more than she should.
Along the way they encountered a traveling merchant who was heading north to Holstean. He told them that his caravan had just missed being the victim of a goblin attack, while others behind him were not so lucky. Siabrey offered to pay the man 5 silver to inform the city guard of the events, which the man politely refused, saying it was his honor to do what little he could to “rid the world of ‘dem littl’ buggers.”
The first nights camp was in a light wood along the side of the road. On second watch, Siabrey thought she heard a faint rustling among the plants. Looking to her left, she saw a set of yellow eyes staring at her. Drawing her katana, she called out, “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Meeow.”
Quizzled, she crept slowly to that side of the encampment, closer to the eyes and the noise. The creature moved again, closer to the camp, and into the firelight. It was a white striped housecat, which mewed at her once again. She pulled a few morsels from her trail rations, and almost instantly had a new best friend.
The next day the party headed further south. Around midday, they passed through a small wood in the midst of glorious sunshine. The birds were singing, the sky was blue, and all seemed fine and happy in the world.
Ironically it was the nearly deaf man that noticed something was wrong.
“Hey… why’ve the birds… the birds stopped their singing,” his strained voice rang out. Siabrey reined up her horse, and immediately began looking around. She spotted a moving shape, then more, and her cry rang out:
“Ambush!”
The band of four goblins, two hobgoblins, and a bugbear had been shadowing the group since they’d entered the wood. This locale had been selected as an ideal ambush location, yet somehow the group had not managed to organize themselves well. Told to wait behind until the signal was given, the two goblins armed with short swords arrived late, and it was their crashing that threw off the birds… and alerted the party.
The two goblins in place, armed with javelins, let loose against the party, both of their missiles flying awry. Siabrey pulled out her longbow, and let loose a shot, which struck the bugbear in the upper shoulder, knocking him back. To Siabrey’s surprise, Tess pulled out her harp, and began playing. Almost immediately, one of the hobgoblins began to howl in pain. (songstrike)
Dingalas, for his good luck in hearing, had horrible luck in shooting, as his crossbow bolt flew high. Rogar’s luck was not good either, as his bolt also flew awry.
The bugbear, angered at Siabrey’s audacity to shoot it, lunged forward, with a hobgoglin in cohorts. The two reached Siabrey and Dingalas respectively, and a furious battle began, as they swung their morningtars, and Siabrey and Dingalas responded. Dingalas somehow managed a punishing blow to the bugbear's head, and the creature staggered. Siabrey missed, as did Rogar.
Tess’ notes changed, and once again, its harmful effects devastated the ambushers. The wailing hobgoblin dropped dead, as did two of the goblins. Their eyes seemed to explode from their heads, and they collapsed, writhing.
The bugbear and hobgoblin in the party's face continued to swing, the bugbear connecting a punishing blow on Rogar which sent him reeling. Siabrey’s katana flashed through the air, but before it could connect, a dagger of light flashed from Tess' hand into the hoboglin's neck, dispatching it to the netherworlds.
True to their cowardly nature, the two remaining goblins in the woods broke and fled. Siabrey and Tess set off in pursuit, as Rogar and Dingalas fought the badly weakened bugbear. The beast, normally powerful, hds been weakened by a series of stirring blows to the head, allowing the elderly Dingalas to deliver a crushing blow on its skull, leaving its face caved in.
Meanwhile, Siabrey and Tess took up positions on the edges of the wood. As Siabrey loaded her bow, she noticed that Tess put an arrow into her harp. Her combat brain took over before she can wonder about it too much, as Tess’ arrow flashed through the forest and smashed the goblin in the back of the skull. It drops immediately.
Siabrey’s arrow instead flashed through the forest into the other goblins left leg. The blow from the arrow came directly into the back of the creatures knee, slashing tendons, and it fell to the ground, writhing but overall helpless. Within seconds, the two were upon it, and Tess asked it if it knew where the kidnapped noble was being held. It responded by spitting in her face… a move that prompted Siabrey’s foot to suddenly put pressure on its neck, and her blade to chop off its hand. It screeched in pain, and between gasps, said it did indeed know of the captured noblemen. Siabrey proposed and the party agreed that the creature should be taken with to lead them to its family’s lair. The goblin wreathed when Siabrey first attempted to pick it up, only to fall helpless to the ground again. Her second attempt at hefting the creature worked, and he soon found himself facing backwards above the rear of her warhorse, bound.
Another night, and the party soon arrived at the gorge that the Guardsmen had been talking about. As they rode through, Tess noticed something unusual to the side… what appeared to be a normal cave entrance, save that it was surrounded by two columns and topped by what looked to be a carved relief of a temple roof.
After some “persuasion,” (in other words, threats to cut his other hand off) the goblin revealed that indeed, his clan’s lair was there. After the party checked and found the cliffs were unscalable (and no other entrances were making themselves apparent), he tied the goblin up to a tree, their horses to another, and entered into the cave.
Upon closer inspection, they immediately confirmed this was no cave… the walls were far too smooth and even. The only thing giving it a cavelike feel were two stalagtites hanging from the ceiling above.
One of which attempted to smash Siabrey, who was in the lead.
Bows were drawn, and a hail of arrows struck both stalagtites, killing the darkmantles dead. Thoroughly paranoid, the party proceeded further…
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