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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 8564571" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>ADVENTURE 27: RAIDERS OF THE LOST ORCS</strong></p><p></p><p>PC Roster: </p><p style="margin-left: 20px">Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 6</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 3</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 1</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 6</p><p></p><p>Game Session Date: 26 February 2022</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>Wakuren sat at the front of the wagon as usual, the reins to the two mules in his hands as they plodded over the hard-packed dirt road. To either side of the wagon rode Xandro and Zander on their black horses, while just ahead rode Thurloe on his tan horse and Alewyth on her dire goat. They were making their way to their next dream victim in some small village another half hour down the road or so, on the edge of the Centralia Desert that covered a good portion of the small continent's center.</p><p></p><p>There was another vehicle approaching from the opposite direction, a wagon also pulled by two draft beasts, a pair of powerful horses as black as Xandro and Zander's own mounts. The sorcerer and the bard hurried their own mounts forward ahead of the mule-wagon, scooting in to make room for the two wagons to pass each other. As they got nearer they could see the approaching wagon was fully covered with walls and a roof of wood, making it possible the lone driver - a male elf, Zander noted - lived inside of his vehicle. A small bird of prey was perched upon the wagon's rooftop.</p><p></p><p>And then the desert exploded on the side of the road beside the elf's wagon. A yellow and brown figure burst out of the sand in a blur of motion; by the time any of the heroes had time to register it was a lizard nearly as long from head to tail as the span from the horses' noses to the back of the wagon they pulled, the beast had clamped its jaws around the neck of the leftmost horse and pulled it to the ground. The wagon toppled on its side, throwing the elf to the ground; the other draft horse panicked but was too tangled up in its tethers to escape being pulled to the ground as well. The falcon took immediately to the skies.</p><p></p><p>Instinctively, Xandro pulled the lute from his back and began his tune of inspirational courage while he steered his horse White with his knees off to the side, out of range of the giant banded lizard. Combat was obviously imminent and this was the best way the bard could help the entire group all at once, he knew. Thurloe pulled his wand from his belt and cast a <em>shield</em> spell upon himself before tossing it over to Zander so the elf could do the same. Then he spurred his horse Horse forward, over to the downed elf; leaning over, he grabbed the man by the arm and helped pull him up onto the saddle behind him before steering Horse away from the lizard as well. Thurloe saw the beast was eagerly chewing up the first horse in bloody gobbets of flesh and wasn't particularly looking for any further combat just yet while it had a meal at the ready; after it finished gobbling up hunks of horse-meat it might be a different story.</p><p></p><p>Wakuren directed the mules off the road away from the lizard and its grisly meal; neither Mica nor Perseverance needed a whole lot of prompting to put some distance between themselves and the ravenous reptile. Then the half-orc leaped from the wagon, heading over to the downed wagon to see if he could be of any assistance; there could easily be other people inside the wagon needing help. Alewyth was the first to initiate combat with the banded lizard; as she prompted Pyrite forward she cast a <em>spiritual weapon</em> spell that caused a warhammer of solid force energy to materialize before her and go streaking to bash into the side of the great reptile's head. The lizard looked about it for the attacker as it swallowed down its latest mouthful of horse-flesh, not recognizing the force-hammer hovering above its head as the cause of its recent pain.</p><p></p><p>Xandro cast an <em>expeditious retreat</em> spell on himself and leaped down from his mount, slapping him on his rump to prompt him away from the danger - an act for which White needed no further encouragement. Thurloe rode the unnamed elf wagon-driver far enough away from the lizard to keep him safe, then helped him down out of the saddle while he pulled his bow from his back and nocked an arrow for combat. Then, wheeling Horse around to face their enemy, Thurloe took aim and let fly.</p><p></p><p>Zander cast a <em>haste</em> spell on the group while they were all still within range, while Wakuren cast a <em>divine favor</em> spell on himself as he raced to attack the giant lizard with his only weapon, his shield. Alewyth likewise cast a <em>divine favor</em> spell upon herself before leaping from her dire goat and sending Pyrite away out of danger. Her <em>spiritual warhammer</em> continued its attack on the lizard, who apparently thought the spell effect to be some kind of flying insect and snapped at it. With the lizard thus distracted, the elven driver ran to the rear of his wagon to open the door in the back, an awkward act given the wagon was on its side.</p><p></p><p>The lizard had by this time swallowed the chunks of horse-meat it had ripped from the poor wagon-mount's corpse and thus had its mouth free when Wakuren came within range to attack it with the edge of his shield. Quicker than the half-orc would have believed possible, the reptile darted its head forward and snapped him up into its mouth; Wakuren found himself using his shield to block the creature's numerous sharp teeth from piercing him through his armor. Seeing his friend in trouble, Xandro used his spell-enhanced speed to race over to the creature's flank, over by its left back leg (where he hoped he'd be out of immediate range of its wicked teeth) and stabbed at the beast with his <em>frost short sword</em>. Thurloe likewise came running to Wakuren's rescue, dropping his bow and pulling out his bastard sword as he closed the gap between himself and the towering reptile. He drew upon his <em>torc of the titans</em> to add extra strength to his blow, which caused his blade to sink deep between the lizard's banded scales.</p><p></p><p>Zander knew quite well he was not well-equipped for melee combat and thus held back, casting a <em>magic missile</em> spell at the beast. The lizard was at this point quite flustered at the multiple opponents attacking it from all directions; it had just been hiding in ambush under the sands until it felt the vibrations indicating an approaching pair of horses and an easy meal. Wakuren tried using the lizard's confusion - it had momentarily stopped trying to chew him - to wrest himself free from its maw, to no avail; it might not be actively chewing him but the half-orc lacked the strength to force it to open its mouth wide enough for him to wriggle out.</p><p></p><p>The <em>spiritual warhammer</em> dipped in for another attack as Alewyth leaped into combat with <em>Sjondra</em> in hand and the elf started pulling weapons out of his wagon: a string of very nicely crafted weapons of all types: longswords, short swords, scimitars, daggers, and axes. He tossed them out with a look of desperation, occasionally looking back over the desert sands, where a plume of dust at the horizon hinted at an approaching group of riders.</p><p></p><p>The lizard suddenly recalled it had a morsel in its mouth and started trying to chew Wakuren's armored form as it swiped at Thurloe and Alewyth with claws glistening with moisture - likely poison, the dwarven priestess realized. Fortunately, neither of the claw attacks met their mark, although the cries of pain from inside the reptile's mouth indicated Wakuren was not having an easy time of it. Thurloe and Xandro redoubled their efforts with their blades while Zander repositioned himself and cast a <em>scorching ray</em> spell at the massive reptile. The continued onslaught was finally taking its toll and the banded lizard was wobbling on its feet when Wakuren turned his shield upside-down and stabbed upwards with all of his might, sending the pointed tip of the shield's bottom stabbing up into the roof of the lizard's mouth. He was rewarded for his efforts with a gush of blood spilling down upon him and the lizard collapsing down upon the desert floor, dead. It took Thurloe and Alewyth to help tug open the beast's mouth so Wakuren could scramble out, but at least he was finally free.</p><p></p><p>"Help me!" called the elf from the back of the wagon, prompting the heroes to assume he was under attack from another enemy. But he just wanted help unloading the weapons from his overturned wagon - a wagon which wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, for one of its axles had broken during the spill, one wooden wheel had shattered, and the wall pinned to the ground had been cracked open when the wagon landed on a large stone.</p><p></p><p>"What's going on?" Thurloe demanded as Alewyth took a handful of weapons from the elf.</p><p></p><p>"Orc raiding party," the elf replied. "Heading this way from out of the desert. My falcon familiar has confirmed it. But this spot will do as well as any other - I need these weapons lined up in a row beside the wagon."</p><p></p><p>"Why?" Thurloe persisted as Zander took the weapons from Alewyth and passed them on to Xandro, who in turn handed them over to Wakuren. They made a sort of bucket brigade, handing weapon after weapon down the line as Wakuren lined them up nicely along the ground.</p><p></p><p>"My family was killed by orc raiders," the elf explained. "I'm a wizard, and I have researched a ritual that allow me to animate these weapons into a living <em>blade barrier</em> spell that will take them out." He closed his eyes and concentrated on the link with his falcon familiar, who was high up in the air and confirming the orcs' numbers. "There is a band of eleven orcs, all riding desert horses," the elf said. "They'll be here in little over a minute, so either help me line up the weapons or at least get out of my way!" Without another word Thurloe went to the back of the line by Wakuren and started lining up the weapons as they were passed his way.</p><p></p><p>Once the weapons were laid out to the elf's satisfaction, he pulled out a sheet of parchment and began muttering arcane syllables, beginning the ritual. "We got time for some preparations of our own," offered up Thurloe, attempting to cast a <em>protection from evil</em> spell on himself in his full armor but messing it up and swearing as it dissipated to nothingness. In the meantime, Alewyth cast a <em>magic circle against evil</em> spell on herself, followed by a <em>bless</em> spell on the assembled group. Wakuren cast <em>bull's strength</em> spells on himself and Thurloe, a <em>cure serious wounds</em> spell upon himself (using his magic ring to increase the amount of healing energy he was able to channel), and a <em>bear's endurance</em> spell upon Zander before activating his other ring and becoming invisible. Xandro cast a <em>cure light wounds</em> spell through his lute on the half-orc before he disappeared from view, for the bard could see Wakuren still had some visible wounds from the lizard's sharp teeth.</p><p></p><p>"Here they come," Alewyth noted as the orcs rode into view, clouds of dust rising behind their horses' hooves. They were spread out in a wide line and headed directly for the overturned wagon. <strong>Morisar Nemertel</strong> - Zander had recognized the elf wizard's proffered name as meaning "deathseeker slainheart" in the Elven tongue and imagined it was the name he had given himself after the deaths of his wife and daughter at the hands of orc raiders as the wizard had been bound and forced to watch - had his back turned to the orcs, reading from the notes he held in his left hand while he reached for a handaxe at his belt with his right. The heroes had dropped back behind the wagon for cover and were looking worriedly at the wizard, hoping he'd get the ritual finished up in time before the orcs got too much closer. And wouldn't it have made more sense to have lined the weapons up <em>behind</em> the wagon?</p><p></p><p>The orc leader, an adept whose owl familiar had flown ahead of the orcs and had scoped out the giant banded lizard they'd been tracking for days had already been slain by a band of warriors, merely merely saw that as a bonus: new weapons and armor for their own band in addition to the flesh, teeth, and claws of the reptile they'd been after. He cast a <em>protection from good</em> spell upon himself while absently wondering what that elf was up to with his back turned to him. Was this some sort of show of fearlessness? And what was the line of gleaming metal at his feet? Then his owl reported on the five heroes off to the side and he grinned an evil grin: he and his ten men could easily take on a group of six adventurers!</p><p></p><p>The orcs continued their advance and the desert horses increased their speed as their prey came into view. But then Xandro pointed his <em>wand of sound burst</em> at a group of the orcs and fired off a shot. He got three of the orc riders and their mounts with his attack and one of the horses was stunned into immobility, sending his barbarian rider flying over his head to come to an abrupt halt face-first in the sand. Zander followed suit with a spell-attack of his own; he'd deduced the adept as some kind of spellcaster based on his hand-gestures when casting the <em>protection from good</em> spell on himself and further deduced he was the sole spellcaster among the group based on him being the only one whose hair was adorned with feathers, a frequent display of spellcasting prestige among the desert orcs. Thus, Zander cast his <em>scorching ray</em> spell at the adept, sending a gout of flames to explode at the orc's chest. It identified Zander as a fellow spellcaster and certainly made him a target, but the elf had no doubt he was already high up on their list given his elven heritage; elves were particularly hated by the orcish race.</p><p></p><p>Wakuren raced forward towards the approaching raiders, confident in his <em>ring of invisibility</em> to keep him safe - and fully forgetting he was leaving footprints behind him in the sand as he ran. But he got close enough to cast a <em>bane</em> spell on a group of close-quarters orcs that included the adept, all four barbarians, and one of the two rangers riding off to the side, as well as all of their desert mounts. Despite his father having been of the orcish race, Wakuren had little knowledge of the creatures himself - he didn't even speak their language, nor did he have much of a desire to learn to do so. If these orcs were in the habit of performing acts like Morisar had said, he wanted nothing to do with them.</p><p></p><p>Alewyth moved over to the other side of the wizard's wagon and cast a summoning spell that caused a celestial bison to manifest directly in the path of one of the advancing orc fighters. It lowered its bulky head and charged, its horn tearing into the orc's makeshift armor and cutting a furrow through the flesh beneath. The orc rangers veered toward the new threat, throwing javelins into the bison's side. It grunted as its only acknowledgement of the pain caused by the weapons and carried on its attack.</p><p></p><p>Thurloe took the opportunity to try a new spell, <em>mirror image</em>. He cast it successfully and now there were five Thurloes wandering around, the real one and four illusory duplicates. All five of them had an identical bastard sword in hand but fumbled at their belts and pulled out identical wands. The five of them all started heading over by Alewyth.</p><p></p><p>Another <em>scorching ray</em> went coursing across the battlefield, but this one had been cast by the adept and targeted against the celestial bison. Two of the orc barbarians wheeled their horses up against the white-furred beast and stabbed at it with their falchions, staining its snowy fur red with blood as it staggered to the desert sands and disappeared, its slain body returning to the celestial realms from which it had been summoned. The other two barbarians both took a swing at where they had figured Wakuren was standing, although they had no idea the invisible foe had orcish blood flowing through his veins. Wakuren dodged one blow but the other struck him on the side and it was only then he realized his tracks in the sand had given him away.</p><p></p><p>Xandro picked up his tune of inspirational courage while all five Thurloes aimed their <em>wands of magic missile</em> at the orcish spellcaster. Fifteen individual missiles went shrieking across the desert sands to strike the orc, only three of them doing any real harm. Zander ran to the far side of the overturned wagon and dropped his <em>jade cooshee</em> to the ground, calling out the command word that brought the elven dog to life. The cooshee didn't need any orders from his master; it dashed out across the desert sands in a bee-line for the mounted adept, its magic-enhanced eyesight showing that particular orc to be the only one holding spells his master might put to better use. But two orcish fighters swung their weapon at the canine as he rushed past, heedless of his own safety, and as a result the poor dog was too weak to be able to snag a spell from the adept's mind as he had intended.</p><p></p><p>Knowing the orcs all about him had a way of detecting his location, the still-invisible Wakuren cast an <em>obscuring mist</em> spell around himself, encompassing the adept and the four barbarians, one of the latter still unmounted since his spill from his dazed horse. Behind him to his right, the four orc fighters raced up to Zander Quilson and Xandro, their blades swinging for blood. But back by the line of weapons, Morisar drew his own blood in a quite unexpected fashion as he brought his right hand up and the hatchet it held swung down to sever his left hand at the wrist. Blood spurted from his stump and the wizard aimed it at the line of weapons, walking down its length, spilling his blood upon each blade in turn. Then he began calling out the words to bring his living spell to life: "Morath ennavari--"</p><p></p><p>That's as far as he got, for at that point his throat was pierced by a javelin thrown by one of the orc rangers and he fell to the desert sands as all about him the bloody weapons rose up of their own accord and started dancing about in rhythmic patterns. Another hurled javelin pierced the elf wizard in the back where he lay and he died, the final word of his ritual unspoken on his lips. Thus, the full set of intended instructions, "death to each living orc," had been truncated to "death to each living." Brought to unholy life, the living <em>blade barrier</em> spell sent its weapons clashing and whirling as it sensed all around it for lives to slay. It found a nearby target and wriggled its way over to Thurloe, its numerous blades cutting through his armor and causing one of his mirror-duplicates to pop like a soap bubble.</p><p></p><p>Alewyth cast another <em>spiritual weapon</em> and sent the force-hammer crashing into the side of one of the orc fighters attacking Zander, nearly spilling him from his mount. The dwarf looked over to what Thurloe was yelling about and was surprised to see him - and three others looking just as bedraggled - limping away from a wall of whirling weapons. </p><p></p><p>The orcs inside the <em>obscuring mist</em> spell decided to get out of there as soon as possible so they could see normally again. Each led their horse in a random direction until they emerged once more under the desert sun. The cooshee followed the orc adept and his mount, leaping up at the spellcaster and trying to fetch a spell slot for his master. But the adept was as well-armed as his other men and cut the dog down with a slash of his falchion and the <em>jade cooshee</em> fell to the sand with a soft thud. Then the adept turned his horse towards his fighters and sped forward.</p><p></p><p>The three mounted barbarians made it out of the area of darkness without incident but the one on foot found himself facing a wall of whirling blades once he was back out in the sunlight. He quickly dodged off to his left, heading towards the relative safety of the orc fighters.</p><p></p><p>Xandro charged one of the fighters, slashing at him with his <em>frost short sword</em>. Thurloe decided he needed to added maneuverability and speed Horse provided and fled back to his mount, leaping up into the saddle with practiced ease. Of course, that meant his three remaining <em>mirror images</em> followed suit, so when Thurloe sent Horse speeding towards the mounted orc fighters he was flanked on either side by an ever-shifting gaggle of three other Thurloes hovering around him - which kind of gave the game away as to which one was the real one and which three the illusory images. Alewyth came to a similar realization about increased mobility and ran back to Pyrite, climbing up onto the dire goat's saddle and spurring him forward in to battle against the nearest orc fighter while her <em>spiritual warhammer</em> slew another fighter and sent him falling from his saddle.</p><p></p><p>Zander cast another <em>magic missile</em> at the approaching adept, partly wanting to take him out of the fight because he wasn't sure just how powerful his spellcasting ability was but also partly in retaliation for having slain his elven dog, even though he knew he'd be able to summon him back to life again the next day. Then he found himself dodging the incoming falchion-blows of a pair of enraged orc fighters, the other two focusing their attacks on Xandro for the moment.</p><p></p><p>Wakuren sped out of the <em>obscuring mist</em> and took a barbarian by surprise by slamming him with his shield, nearly spilling him from his horse. That brought the half-orc back into full visibility once again, but invisibility wasn't all it was cracked up to be in the desert sands.</p><p></p><p>The two rangers spurred their horses around what they both assumed to be a static <em>blade barrier</em> spell and were surprised beyond belief when it lurched to cut them off. Dozens of razor-sharp blades cut the rangers and their mounts to ribbons; neither of the four made it out of the living spell alive.</p><p></p><p>The orc adept cast his last <em>scorching ray</em> of the day at Alewyth, engulfing the dwarven priestess in a gout of flame. He felt the rage building up inside him, that these upstarts would dare to fight back against his raiders after having first stolen the giant banded lizard kill from them after they'd spent two days tracking it! He'd make sure they all paid for their effrontery!</p><p></p><p>Wakuren soon found himself pinned between two mounted orc barbarians, who called taunts out at him in a language he didn't understand as their blades came swinging in against what they considered a race-traitor. A half-orc throwing in his lot with a pair of elves? Unforgivable! The barbarian on foot reached one of the riderless mounts and leaped up upon it, steering it back into battle. But another barbarian had stopped his mount cold at the sight of the living <em>blade barrier</em> spell chewing up the two rangers and their horses like they were nothing. If these adventurers were capable of such magic, perhaps it would be best to allow them to keep the banded lizard for themselves and seek their next targets a bit more wisely!</p><p></p><p>Xandro's <em>frost blade</em> took the life of another of the orc fighters, his lifeless body dropping to the desert sands and the now-unencumbered horse high-tailing it out of the area. Thurloe (and his hovering triplets) charged another fighter, nearly decapitating him with his bastard sword - another raider down! Zander slew another of the barbarians with a <em>scorching ray</em> spell and all of a sudden the fight was no longer as lopsided as it had been at the start. Wakuren killed a barbarian, pushing him from his mount and then crushing his windpipe with the edge of his shield before the orc could rise up from where he'd fallen prone. Riderless horses ran this way and that as their erstwhile masters were slain.</p><p></p><p>A fighter came rushing at Alewyth, his falchion striking a glancing blow off her armor before she retaliated with a blow of her own with <em>Sjondra</em>. Then the orc was taken from behind by a mass of flying blades as the living spell crept up behind the unwary raider. Alewyth pulled Pyrite farther away from the mass of whirling blades, realizing when their fight with the orcs was over they'd still have to deal with Morisar's deadly spell-monster lest it continue its random swath of death and destruction into the homes of the nearest village.</p><p></p><p>The orc adept was still in the fight, but only because he'd taken the time to cast a few healing spells upon himself to seal up the worst of his wounds. But his body pulsated with power and he was eager for vengeance against those who had slain so many of his men. As he watched, Wakuren held his shield up to deflect a series of blows from one of the adept's strongest barbarian warriors, only to have the lanky human with the musical instrument strapped to his back stab the orc in the back and then step back as the barbarian fell face-first into the sand, dead from the bard's blow. The adept roared with frustration and looked to see who he could vent his anger upon.</p><p></p><p>The closest enemy was riding straight towards the orc spellcaster and for some reason he had three others who looked just like him hovering around him. The adept raised his falchion and spurred his own desert horse forward, eager to match blades with this strange warrior with the acrobatic duplicates. But then the four identical Thurloes each raised a wand and pointed it at the wounded adept and the <em>magic missile</em> spell slew the orc before the horses met up. Relieved of the burden from his back, the orc's mount veered off and left the field of battle.</p><p></p><p>The lone barbarian had been watching this debacle unfold. Now it seemed he was the last survivor of his band and no longer under the sway of the adept, whose orders had been more and more erratic over the past few weeks. Shaking his head in sadness at the loss of his brothers-in-arms, the sole remaining member of the Tribe of the Lost's raiding party turned his horse back the way they'd come and raced away.</p><p></p><p>"We need to take out those flying weapons!" Alewyth called to the others as she pointed to the living <em>blade barrier</em> spell.</p><p></p><p>"Ranged weapons and spells!" advised Thurloe, who had seen first-hand what happened when one ventured too close to the living spell. He fetched his bow and started shooting arrows at the living spell while Zander peppered it with <em>magic missiles</em> and <em>scorching rays</em>. Alewyth's <em>spiritual warhammer</em> finally winked out and she was left scavenging the bodies of the orc raiders for their javelins. It was slow going, but eventually they wore down the living spell and its weapons all went flying in all directions as the magic binding them together was sundered. Thurloe rode up to the nearest of the scattered weapons and snorted in disgust; despite having been of quite masterwork quality when they'd lined them all up in the sand for Morisar, they were now all nicked and grooved from constant contact with each other as they flew about and were virtually worthless.</p><p></p><p>However, there were a few goods to be retrieved. The orc adept had the only item of magical value among the orcs, a necklace of the teeth of desert predators that Alewyth's <em>detect magic</em> spell indicated toughened the skin of the wearer. Morisar's cloak was likewise magical, suffused in an aura of abjuration that protected the wearer with a limited ability to deflect damage. Recovered from the wagon's interior were a <em>quill of transcription</em> which wrote down the words spoken by the owner; a flask of <em>elixir of dreamless sleep</em> with six doses remaining (for poor Morisar apparently suffered from repeated nightmares of the deaths of his wife and daughter); a silver holy symbol of Akari, God of Death and Undeath, with rubies in place of the skull's eyes; and a pair of ivory cameos, side views of elven ladies, no doubt his slain family members. Alewyth insisted upon giving the slain elf wizard a proper burial, there by the side of the road where he'd been killed seeking his vengeance against the orcs. Of his falcon familiar there was no sight; it had apparently flown off upon its master's death.</p><p></p><p>The orcs were left to rot in the sun where they'd been slain. Wakuren had been the one to fetch the adept's necklace of teeth and he swore he felt a shudder of revulsion course through his skin upon touching the body of the slain leader of the raiders. The necklace had been given to Xandro; Wakuren had wanted nothing to do with it. Instead, he took Morisar's cloak, promising the elf's spirit he would long remember his courage and dedication in seeking his vengeance.</p><p></p><p>"Let's be gone from here," Wakuren sighed once Morisar had been put to rest.</p><p></p><p>"Caldovia should be about a half hour down the road," pointed out Thurloe, pulling himself up onto Horse's saddle and leading the way to the town where they were to find their next dream victim.</p><p></p><p>Caldovia was indeed not that far away, but the reception they received was not all they had expected. Upon seeing Wakuren at the front of the mule wagon, a half dozen villagers picked up clubs and hammers - whatever weapon they could grab up, pretty much - and blocked the way. Wakuren pulled back on the mules' reins as the others came to a halt beside him. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked pleasantly.</p><p></p><p>One of the villagers spit on the ground before answering. "Exactly what you'd expect, orc!" he sneered. "You got a lot of nerve riding into town after all the times your kind came raiding in from the desert. And you!" - here he pointed a finger at the others on their riding mounts - "Orc sympathizers, are you? You ought to be ashamed!"</p><p></p><p>"First one of you comes at me with their weapons dies here in the street," promised Thurloe, hefting his bastard sword at the ready over one shoulder.</p><p></p><p>"Hold on," demanded Alewyth. "Can you not see the mark of Cal on Wakuren's armor and shield? He's a holy man!"</p><p></p><p>"Don't mean nothing," replied the leader of the six men. "Orcs'll wear any armor, wield any weapons they can scavenge. Everybody knows that." He looked ready to attack, but kept glancing nervously at Thurloe and seemed to be waiting for one of his men to make the first move. Alewyth took advantage of the man's hesitation to cast a <em>calm emotions</em> spell on the assembled villagers. Then, once everyone had calmed down, she personally vouched for Wakuren's good character and explained why they were in town in the first place.</p><p></p><p>Caldovia was a small enough village that everybody knew exactly who the adventurers were looking for: <strong>Jingo Pebble-Brain</strong>, who worked odd jobs for those who needed them done. "He's big as a mountain and dumb as a brick, but a nice enough guy" was the common opinion but while he had last been seen at <strong>McGillicuddy</strong>'s Inn, nobody was quite sure of his current whereabouts - until they met up with an elderly woman who gave them a better idea of Jingo's current predicament. "It's horrible what that nasty old skinflint has done with poor Jingo. I suggest you check out the stables behind McGillicuddy's Inn, and bless you all if you can put a stop to it."</p><p></p><p>That warranted a trip to McGillicuddy's Inn. Wakuren activated his <em>ring of invisibility</em> and headed directly to the stables while the others decided to confront the innkeeper. "Jingo?" replied McGillicuddy. "Yeah, I hire him now and again when I got work for him, but I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks now. Probably wandered off again and got hisself lost - the boy's not all there upstairs, you know what I mean?"</p><p></p><p>"So you have no idea where he is?" pushed Alewyth.</p><p></p><p>"That's what I said. Now, you folk interested in renting some rooms or purchasing a meal or something to drink? 'Cause otherwise, I don't think we got anything further to discuss."</p><p></p><p>"I found him," came Wakuren's whispered voice in Alewyth's ear. The dwarf said that would be all for now and turned to leave, the other three following suit. Wakuren canceled his invisibility once back over at the stables. "He's here, in a stall at the back," he said, his voice hardened with anger.</p><p></p><p>A few horses nickered in their stalls as Wakuren went all the way to the back of the stables. There, in the farthest stall to the right, lay an enormous man - probably six and a half feet tall when standing - propped up in the corner, fast asleep. His bald head glistened with wetness; he lay in a puddle of urine and his clothes all reeked of the stuff. A tin cup along the wall held a few silver pieces; apparently McGillicuddy had found a way to earn some money from his handyman while he was trapped in a dream coma, by offering the opportunity to the townsfolk to relieve their bladders on Jingo as he slept.</p><p></p><p>"That little weasel!" fumed Alewyth. "We can't perform the ritual here, with Jingo like that!" She cast a <em>produce water</em> spell that cleaned the worst of the urine off of his skin and clothes, then they lifted him up and placed him in their wagon.</p><p></p><p>"Where's a safe place to do the ritual?" Xandro asked. They decided to go back to find the elderly lady who had told them where Jingo could be found. Sure enough, she allowed the group to bring Jingo inside and lay him down on her living room floor. Once they explained the ritual they'd be performing, the lady agreed to watch over them as they all slept and ensure they weren't disturbed.</p><p></p><p>Jingo's dream was almost sad in its purity. He was on his hands and knees, building a tower out of painted wooden blocks. A handful of children, four or five years old, were gathered and watched him with rapt attention. Once he had used up all the blocks, the kids clapped and Jingo beamed at his construction. "Whose turn to knock it over?" he asked.</p><p></p><p>"Me!" cried one of the girls, and Jingo watched as she knocked it over, dancing with excitement at the collapsing tower.</p><p></p><p>"I'm next!" one of the little boys cried. "Build it again, Jingo!" Jingo scooped the blocks together in a pile and started painstakingly building another tower. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he concentrated.</p><p></p><p>"Oh, the poor guy," Alewyth sighed. "I almost hate to have to wake him. His life here in the dream is so much better than the one he's stuck with in the real world." She turned to the others. "Do you think we might just leave him?"</p><p></p><p>"I don't know if that's a good idea," replied Wakuren. "Whatever reason the Nightmare King has for trapping people in their dreams, it's best if we stop him when we can." There were already two dreamers the group had been unable to wake from their dreams, a dwarf in an underground city and a bard back in Baron's Haven.</p><p></p><p>"Then how do we wake Jingo from this dream?" asked Zander.</p><p></p><p>"I could try killing him," suggested Thurloe, unsheathing his bastard sword. Then, seeing the scathing looks his friends were giving him, he asked, "What? This is just a dream! Killing him here won't kill him back in the real world!" If Jingo heard any of their talk of killing him he gave it no notice - he was focused on building his tower.</p><p></p><p>"We're not killing him - what's wrong with you?" chided Alewyth.</p><p></p><p>"I could try killing the kids - maybe he'll wake up without an audience." When Alewyth turned on the fighter the look on his face told he had said that just to provoke a reaction out of her. She chose not to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she turned to Jingo and said, "That's a nice building, Jingo, but we have to go now."</p><p></p><p>"Okay," said Jingo at once, getting to his feet and leaving his building half-constructed. He waved to the kids, who all waved back at him. "Maybe I can come back later," he said hopefully. Then Alewyth led him out of the door to his dream and the others followed. Jingo disappeared from the dreamlands upon exiting his dream; the dreamwalkers all willed themselves back to wakefulness and found themselves back in the elderly woman's living room, sitting in a ring around Jingo, who was struggling to a sitting position. "Hello," he said bashfully upon seeing the strangers positioned all around him.</p><p></p><p>"Hello, Jingo," Alewyth said, smiling at the bald man. "How do you feel?"</p><p></p><p>Jingo took a quick stock of the situation. "I'm all wet," he said. "And something stinks." He rubbed his tongue on his sleeve as if trying to get rid of a bad taste in his mouth.</p><p></p><p>"I'll help you get cleaned up," offered the old woman. "And you can stay here with me, if you'd like. I have an extra bedroom in the back that isn't being used."</p><p></p><p>"Okay," agreed Jingo. The group talked it over quietly among themselves and agreed this was probably the best situation Jingo could hope for. Alewyth gathered up some of their funds and set the coins down on an end table. "This ought to help you with expenses for a few months," the dwarven priestess explained.</p><p></p><p>"Why, bless you - bless you all!" replied the elderly lady. And then the dreamwalkers returned to their wagon and mounts outside, ready to leave Caldovia behind and head to their next dream victim.</p><p> </p><p>"Where do you think you're all going?" demanded Thurloe. "We're not done here in town just yet." He explained how he intended to kill McGillicuddy for what he'd done to Jingo. "Guy like that's gotta be irredeemably evil," he reasoned.</p><p></p><p>"Nobody's irredeemably evil," countered Wakuren.</p><p></p><p>"You use your aura-sight on him?"</p><p></p><p>"Yes, and he is in fact evil," admitted Wakuren. "But if you kill everyone because they're evil you prevent them from turning their life around. There's no possibility for redemption, then."</p><p></p><p>"You think McGillicuddy's gonna turn his life around?" demanded Thurloe, forcing Wakuren to concede it wasn't likely.</p><p></p><p>"We can't come riding into town and kill people we don't like - no matter how much they deserve it," added Alewyth. "That'd make us no better than the orc raiders who come riding into town and taking what they want, killing anyone who gets in their way." She talked Thurloe out of his killing mood by agreeing they'd take vengeance on the innkeeper, as long as they kept it to the nonlethal variety.</p><p></p><p>And thus it was that the next morning, after the dreamwalkers had long since left Caldovia, McGillicuddy was found drunken and naked in a goat pen in town; to all appearances he'd been enjoying himself with the goats and had slept it off when he finished his partying. That's the story that made it across town, in any case, and nobody believed his stories of having been abducted in the middle of the night and force-fed bottles of his own ale until he passed out.</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>I had a good time prepping the minis for this adventure the night before we played. After gathering up an appropriate amount of orc minis - an adept, two rangers, four barbarians, and four fighters - and an equal number of horses (many of them from Toobs collections), I spent a good half-hour or so using rather small rubber bands (the ones used to hold a ponytail in place, which my granddaughter suggested I purchase to keep my hair out of my face back when I did water aerobics) to keep the orc minis balanced on the back of the horse minis. That ended up working out just fine as a visual, and in the few cases where an orc was dismounted it was easy enough to remove the rubber band and split them up. (The horses usually wandered away from the active fighting when they had no rider spurring them on to battle.)</p><p></p><p>Jingo had been intended as a recurring NPC - I statted him out as an NPC hireling who could join the group so they'd have someone to tend to their animals, much like the NPC "Old Clem" did back in our "Wing Three" campaign. But the players didn't want to have to be responsible for him so they set him up with the kindly old lady who had found out how McGillicuddy had been misusing him.</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>T-shirt worn: Given the orcs' traditional chaotic evil nature, my "Chaotic Evil Means Never Having To Say You're Sorry" T-shirt was the most appropriate, so that's what I went with.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 8564571, member: 508"] [B]ADVENTURE 27: RAIDERS OF THE LOST ORCS[/B] PC Roster: [INDENT]Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 6[/INDENT] [INDENT] Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3[/INDENT] [INDENT] Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 3[/INDENT] [INDENT] Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 1[/INDENT] [INDENT] Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 6[/INDENT] Game Session Date: 26 February 2022 - - - Wakuren sat at the front of the wagon as usual, the reins to the two mules in his hands as they plodded over the hard-packed dirt road. To either side of the wagon rode Xandro and Zander on their black horses, while just ahead rode Thurloe on his tan horse and Alewyth on her dire goat. They were making their way to their next dream victim in some small village another half hour down the road or so, on the edge of the Centralia Desert that covered a good portion of the small continent's center. There was another vehicle approaching from the opposite direction, a wagon also pulled by two draft beasts, a pair of powerful horses as black as Xandro and Zander's own mounts. The sorcerer and the bard hurried their own mounts forward ahead of the mule-wagon, scooting in to make room for the two wagons to pass each other. As they got nearer they could see the approaching wagon was fully covered with walls and a roof of wood, making it possible the lone driver - a male elf, Zander noted - lived inside of his vehicle. A small bird of prey was perched upon the wagon's rooftop. And then the desert exploded on the side of the road beside the elf's wagon. A yellow and brown figure burst out of the sand in a blur of motion; by the time any of the heroes had time to register it was a lizard nearly as long from head to tail as the span from the horses' noses to the back of the wagon they pulled, the beast had clamped its jaws around the neck of the leftmost horse and pulled it to the ground. The wagon toppled on its side, throwing the elf to the ground; the other draft horse panicked but was too tangled up in its tethers to escape being pulled to the ground as well. The falcon took immediately to the skies. Instinctively, Xandro pulled the lute from his back and began his tune of inspirational courage while he steered his horse White with his knees off to the side, out of range of the giant banded lizard. Combat was obviously imminent and this was the best way the bard could help the entire group all at once, he knew. Thurloe pulled his wand from his belt and cast a [I]shield[/I] spell upon himself before tossing it over to Zander so the elf could do the same. Then he spurred his horse Horse forward, over to the downed elf; leaning over, he grabbed the man by the arm and helped pull him up onto the saddle behind him before steering Horse away from the lizard as well. Thurloe saw the beast was eagerly chewing up the first horse in bloody gobbets of flesh and wasn't particularly looking for any further combat just yet while it had a meal at the ready; after it finished gobbling up hunks of horse-meat it might be a different story. Wakuren directed the mules off the road away from the lizard and its grisly meal; neither Mica nor Perseverance needed a whole lot of prompting to put some distance between themselves and the ravenous reptile. Then the half-orc leaped from the wagon, heading over to the downed wagon to see if he could be of any assistance; there could easily be other people inside the wagon needing help. Alewyth was the first to initiate combat with the banded lizard; as she prompted Pyrite forward she cast a [I]spiritual weapon[/I] spell that caused a warhammer of solid force energy to materialize before her and go streaking to bash into the side of the great reptile's head. The lizard looked about it for the attacker as it swallowed down its latest mouthful of horse-flesh, not recognizing the force-hammer hovering above its head as the cause of its recent pain. Xandro cast an [I]expeditious retreat[/I] spell on himself and leaped down from his mount, slapping him on his rump to prompt him away from the danger - an act for which White needed no further encouragement. Thurloe rode the unnamed elf wagon-driver far enough away from the lizard to keep him safe, then helped him down out of the saddle while he pulled his bow from his back and nocked an arrow for combat. Then, wheeling Horse around to face their enemy, Thurloe took aim and let fly. Zander cast a [I]haste[/I] spell on the group while they were all still within range, while Wakuren cast a [I]divine favor[/I] spell on himself as he raced to attack the giant lizard with his only weapon, his shield. Alewyth likewise cast a [I]divine favor[/I] spell upon herself before leaping from her dire goat and sending Pyrite away out of danger. Her [I]spiritual warhammer[/I] continued its attack on the lizard, who apparently thought the spell effect to be some kind of flying insect and snapped at it. With the lizard thus distracted, the elven driver ran to the rear of his wagon to open the door in the back, an awkward act given the wagon was on its side. The lizard had by this time swallowed the chunks of horse-meat it had ripped from the poor wagon-mount's corpse and thus had its mouth free when Wakuren came within range to attack it with the edge of his shield. Quicker than the half-orc would have believed possible, the reptile darted its head forward and snapped him up into its mouth; Wakuren found himself using his shield to block the creature's numerous sharp teeth from piercing him through his armor. Seeing his friend in trouble, Xandro used his spell-enhanced speed to race over to the creature's flank, over by its left back leg (where he hoped he'd be out of immediate range of its wicked teeth) and stabbed at the beast with his [I]frost short sword[/I]. Thurloe likewise came running to Wakuren's rescue, dropping his bow and pulling out his bastard sword as he closed the gap between himself and the towering reptile. He drew upon his [I]torc of the titans[/I] to add extra strength to his blow, which caused his blade to sink deep between the lizard's banded scales. Zander knew quite well he was not well-equipped for melee combat and thus held back, casting a [I]magic missile[/I] spell at the beast. The lizard was at this point quite flustered at the multiple opponents attacking it from all directions; it had just been hiding in ambush under the sands until it felt the vibrations indicating an approaching pair of horses and an easy meal. Wakuren tried using the lizard's confusion - it had momentarily stopped trying to chew him - to wrest himself free from its maw, to no avail; it might not be actively chewing him but the half-orc lacked the strength to force it to open its mouth wide enough for him to wriggle out. The [I]spiritual warhammer[/I] dipped in for another attack as Alewyth leaped into combat with [I]Sjondra[/I] in hand and the elf started pulling weapons out of his wagon: a string of very nicely crafted weapons of all types: longswords, short swords, scimitars, daggers, and axes. He tossed them out with a look of desperation, occasionally looking back over the desert sands, where a plume of dust at the horizon hinted at an approaching group of riders. The lizard suddenly recalled it had a morsel in its mouth and started trying to chew Wakuren's armored form as it swiped at Thurloe and Alewyth with claws glistening with moisture - likely poison, the dwarven priestess realized. Fortunately, neither of the claw attacks met their mark, although the cries of pain from inside the reptile's mouth indicated Wakuren was not having an easy time of it. Thurloe and Xandro redoubled their efforts with their blades while Zander repositioned himself and cast a [I]scorching ray[/I] spell at the massive reptile. The continued onslaught was finally taking its toll and the banded lizard was wobbling on its feet when Wakuren turned his shield upside-down and stabbed upwards with all of his might, sending the pointed tip of the shield's bottom stabbing up into the roof of the lizard's mouth. He was rewarded for his efforts with a gush of blood spilling down upon him and the lizard collapsing down upon the desert floor, dead. It took Thurloe and Alewyth to help tug open the beast's mouth so Wakuren could scramble out, but at least he was finally free. "Help me!" called the elf from the back of the wagon, prompting the heroes to assume he was under attack from another enemy. But he just wanted help unloading the weapons from his overturned wagon - a wagon which wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, for one of its axles had broken during the spill, one wooden wheel had shattered, and the wall pinned to the ground had been cracked open when the wagon landed on a large stone. "What's going on?" Thurloe demanded as Alewyth took a handful of weapons from the elf. "Orc raiding party," the elf replied. "Heading this way from out of the desert. My falcon familiar has confirmed it. But this spot will do as well as any other - I need these weapons lined up in a row beside the wagon." "Why?" Thurloe persisted as Zander took the weapons from Alewyth and passed them on to Xandro, who in turn handed them over to Wakuren. They made a sort of bucket brigade, handing weapon after weapon down the line as Wakuren lined them up nicely along the ground. "My family was killed by orc raiders," the elf explained. "I'm a wizard, and I have researched a ritual that allow me to animate these weapons into a living [I]blade barrier[/I] spell that will take them out." He closed his eyes and concentrated on the link with his falcon familiar, who was high up in the air and confirming the orcs' numbers. "There is a band of eleven orcs, all riding desert horses," the elf said. "They'll be here in little over a minute, so either help me line up the weapons or at least get out of my way!" Without another word Thurloe went to the back of the line by Wakuren and started lining up the weapons as they were passed his way. Once the weapons were laid out to the elf's satisfaction, he pulled out a sheet of parchment and began muttering arcane syllables, beginning the ritual. "We got time for some preparations of our own," offered up Thurloe, attempting to cast a [I]protection from evil[/I] spell on himself in his full armor but messing it up and swearing as it dissipated to nothingness. In the meantime, Alewyth cast a [I]magic circle against evil[/I] spell on herself, followed by a [I]bless[/I] spell on the assembled group. Wakuren cast [I]bull's strength[/I] spells on himself and Thurloe, a [I]cure serious wounds[/I] spell upon himself (using his magic ring to increase the amount of healing energy he was able to channel), and a [I]bear's endurance[/I] spell upon Zander before activating his other ring and becoming invisible. Xandro cast a [I]cure light wounds[/I] spell through his lute on the half-orc before he disappeared from view, for the bard could see Wakuren still had some visible wounds from the lizard's sharp teeth. "Here they come," Alewyth noted as the orcs rode into view, clouds of dust rising behind their horses' hooves. They were spread out in a wide line and headed directly for the overturned wagon. [B]Morisar Nemertel[/B] - Zander had recognized the elf wizard's proffered name as meaning "deathseeker slainheart" in the Elven tongue and imagined it was the name he had given himself after the deaths of his wife and daughter at the hands of orc raiders as the wizard had been bound and forced to watch - had his back turned to the orcs, reading from the notes he held in his left hand while he reached for a handaxe at his belt with his right. The heroes had dropped back behind the wagon for cover and were looking worriedly at the wizard, hoping he'd get the ritual finished up in time before the orcs got too much closer. And wouldn't it have made more sense to have lined the weapons up [I]behind[/I] the wagon? The orc leader, an adept whose owl familiar had flown ahead of the orcs and had scoped out the giant banded lizard they'd been tracking for days had already been slain by a band of warriors, merely merely saw that as a bonus: new weapons and armor for their own band in addition to the flesh, teeth, and claws of the reptile they'd been after. He cast a [I]protection from good[/I] spell upon himself while absently wondering what that elf was up to with his back turned to him. Was this some sort of show of fearlessness? And what was the line of gleaming metal at his feet? Then his owl reported on the five heroes off to the side and he grinned an evil grin: he and his ten men could easily take on a group of six adventurers! The orcs continued their advance and the desert horses increased their speed as their prey came into view. But then Xandro pointed his [I]wand of sound burst[/I] at a group of the orcs and fired off a shot. He got three of the orc riders and their mounts with his attack and one of the horses was stunned into immobility, sending his barbarian rider flying over his head to come to an abrupt halt face-first in the sand. Zander followed suit with a spell-attack of his own; he'd deduced the adept as some kind of spellcaster based on his hand-gestures when casting the [I]protection from good[/I] spell on himself and further deduced he was the sole spellcaster among the group based on him being the only one whose hair was adorned with feathers, a frequent display of spellcasting prestige among the desert orcs. Thus, Zander cast his [I]scorching ray[/I] spell at the adept, sending a gout of flames to explode at the orc's chest. It identified Zander as a fellow spellcaster and certainly made him a target, but the elf had no doubt he was already high up on their list given his elven heritage; elves were particularly hated by the orcish race. Wakuren raced forward towards the approaching raiders, confident in his [I]ring of invisibility[/I] to keep him safe - and fully forgetting he was leaving footprints behind him in the sand as he ran. But he got close enough to cast a [I]bane[/I] spell on a group of close-quarters orcs that included the adept, all four barbarians, and one of the two rangers riding off to the side, as well as all of their desert mounts. Despite his father having been of the orcish race, Wakuren had little knowledge of the creatures himself - he didn't even speak their language, nor did he have much of a desire to learn to do so. If these orcs were in the habit of performing acts like Morisar had said, he wanted nothing to do with them. Alewyth moved over to the other side of the wizard's wagon and cast a summoning spell that caused a celestial bison to manifest directly in the path of one of the advancing orc fighters. It lowered its bulky head and charged, its horn tearing into the orc's makeshift armor and cutting a furrow through the flesh beneath. The orc rangers veered toward the new threat, throwing javelins into the bison's side. It grunted as its only acknowledgement of the pain caused by the weapons and carried on its attack. Thurloe took the opportunity to try a new spell, [I]mirror image[/I]. He cast it successfully and now there were five Thurloes wandering around, the real one and four illusory duplicates. All five of them had an identical bastard sword in hand but fumbled at their belts and pulled out identical wands. The five of them all started heading over by Alewyth. Another [I]scorching ray[/I] went coursing across the battlefield, but this one had been cast by the adept and targeted against the celestial bison. Two of the orc barbarians wheeled their horses up against the white-furred beast and stabbed at it with their falchions, staining its snowy fur red with blood as it staggered to the desert sands and disappeared, its slain body returning to the celestial realms from which it had been summoned. The other two barbarians both took a swing at where they had figured Wakuren was standing, although they had no idea the invisible foe had orcish blood flowing through his veins. Wakuren dodged one blow but the other struck him on the side and it was only then he realized his tracks in the sand had given him away. Xandro picked up his tune of inspirational courage while all five Thurloes aimed their [I]wands of magic missile[/I] at the orcish spellcaster. Fifteen individual missiles went shrieking across the desert sands to strike the orc, only three of them doing any real harm. Zander ran to the far side of the overturned wagon and dropped his [I]jade cooshee[/I] to the ground, calling out the command word that brought the elven dog to life. The cooshee didn't need any orders from his master; it dashed out across the desert sands in a bee-line for the mounted adept, its magic-enhanced eyesight showing that particular orc to be the only one holding spells his master might put to better use. But two orcish fighters swung their weapon at the canine as he rushed past, heedless of his own safety, and as a result the poor dog was too weak to be able to snag a spell from the adept's mind as he had intended. Knowing the orcs all about him had a way of detecting his location, the still-invisible Wakuren cast an [I]obscuring mist[/I] spell around himself, encompassing the adept and the four barbarians, one of the latter still unmounted since his spill from his dazed horse. Behind him to his right, the four orc fighters raced up to Zander Quilson and Xandro, their blades swinging for blood. But back by the line of weapons, Morisar drew his own blood in a quite unexpected fashion as he brought his right hand up and the hatchet it held swung down to sever his left hand at the wrist. Blood spurted from his stump and the wizard aimed it at the line of weapons, walking down its length, spilling his blood upon each blade in turn. Then he began calling out the words to bring his living spell to life: "Morath ennavari--" That's as far as he got, for at that point his throat was pierced by a javelin thrown by one of the orc rangers and he fell to the desert sands as all about him the bloody weapons rose up of their own accord and started dancing about in rhythmic patterns. Another hurled javelin pierced the elf wizard in the back where he lay and he died, the final word of his ritual unspoken on his lips. Thus, the full set of intended instructions, "death to each living orc," had been truncated to "death to each living." Brought to unholy life, the living [I]blade barrier[/I] spell sent its weapons clashing and whirling as it sensed all around it for lives to slay. It found a nearby target and wriggled its way over to Thurloe, its numerous blades cutting through his armor and causing one of his mirror-duplicates to pop like a soap bubble. Alewyth cast another [I]spiritual weapon[/I] and sent the force-hammer crashing into the side of one of the orc fighters attacking Zander, nearly spilling him from his mount. The dwarf looked over to what Thurloe was yelling about and was surprised to see him - and three others looking just as bedraggled - limping away from a wall of whirling weapons. The orcs inside the [I]obscuring mist[/I] spell decided to get out of there as soon as possible so they could see normally again. Each led their horse in a random direction until they emerged once more under the desert sun. The cooshee followed the orc adept and his mount, leaping up at the spellcaster and trying to fetch a spell slot for his master. But the adept was as well-armed as his other men and cut the dog down with a slash of his falchion and the [I]jade cooshee[/I] fell to the sand with a soft thud. Then the adept turned his horse towards his fighters and sped forward. The three mounted barbarians made it out of the area of darkness without incident but the one on foot found himself facing a wall of whirling blades once he was back out in the sunlight. He quickly dodged off to his left, heading towards the relative safety of the orc fighters. Xandro charged one of the fighters, slashing at him with his [I]frost short sword[/I]. Thurloe decided he needed to added maneuverability and speed Horse provided and fled back to his mount, leaping up into the saddle with practiced ease. Of course, that meant his three remaining [I]mirror images[/I] followed suit, so when Thurloe sent Horse speeding towards the mounted orc fighters he was flanked on either side by an ever-shifting gaggle of three other Thurloes hovering around him - which kind of gave the game away as to which one was the real one and which three the illusory images. Alewyth came to a similar realization about increased mobility and ran back to Pyrite, climbing up onto the dire goat's saddle and spurring him forward in to battle against the nearest orc fighter while her [I]spiritual warhammer[/I] slew another fighter and sent him falling from his saddle. Zander cast another [I]magic missile[/I] at the approaching adept, partly wanting to take him out of the fight because he wasn't sure just how powerful his spellcasting ability was but also partly in retaliation for having slain his elven dog, even though he knew he'd be able to summon him back to life again the next day. Then he found himself dodging the incoming falchion-blows of a pair of enraged orc fighters, the other two focusing their attacks on Xandro for the moment. Wakuren sped out of the [I]obscuring mist[/I] and took a barbarian by surprise by slamming him with his shield, nearly spilling him from his horse. That brought the half-orc back into full visibility once again, but invisibility wasn't all it was cracked up to be in the desert sands. The two rangers spurred their horses around what they both assumed to be a static [I]blade barrier[/I] spell and were surprised beyond belief when it lurched to cut them off. Dozens of razor-sharp blades cut the rangers and their mounts to ribbons; neither of the four made it out of the living spell alive. The orc adept cast his last [I]scorching ray[/I] of the day at Alewyth, engulfing the dwarven priestess in a gout of flame. He felt the rage building up inside him, that these upstarts would dare to fight back against his raiders after having first stolen the giant banded lizard kill from them after they'd spent two days tracking it! He'd make sure they all paid for their effrontery! Wakuren soon found himself pinned between two mounted orc barbarians, who called taunts out at him in a language he didn't understand as their blades came swinging in against what they considered a race-traitor. A half-orc throwing in his lot with a pair of elves? Unforgivable! The barbarian on foot reached one of the riderless mounts and leaped up upon it, steering it back into battle. But another barbarian had stopped his mount cold at the sight of the living [I]blade barrier[/I] spell chewing up the two rangers and their horses like they were nothing. If these adventurers were capable of such magic, perhaps it would be best to allow them to keep the banded lizard for themselves and seek their next targets a bit more wisely! Xandro's [I]frost blade[/I] took the life of another of the orc fighters, his lifeless body dropping to the desert sands and the now-unencumbered horse high-tailing it out of the area. Thurloe (and his hovering triplets) charged another fighter, nearly decapitating him with his bastard sword - another raider down! Zander slew another of the barbarians with a [I]scorching ray[/I] spell and all of a sudden the fight was no longer as lopsided as it had been at the start. Wakuren killed a barbarian, pushing him from his mount and then crushing his windpipe with the edge of his shield before the orc could rise up from where he'd fallen prone. Riderless horses ran this way and that as their erstwhile masters were slain. A fighter came rushing at Alewyth, his falchion striking a glancing blow off her armor before she retaliated with a blow of her own with [I]Sjondra[/I]. Then the orc was taken from behind by a mass of flying blades as the living spell crept up behind the unwary raider. Alewyth pulled Pyrite farther away from the mass of whirling blades, realizing when their fight with the orcs was over they'd still have to deal with Morisar's deadly spell-monster lest it continue its random swath of death and destruction into the homes of the nearest village. The orc adept was still in the fight, but only because he'd taken the time to cast a few healing spells upon himself to seal up the worst of his wounds. But his body pulsated with power and he was eager for vengeance against those who had slain so many of his men. As he watched, Wakuren held his shield up to deflect a series of blows from one of the adept's strongest barbarian warriors, only to have the lanky human with the musical instrument strapped to his back stab the orc in the back and then step back as the barbarian fell face-first into the sand, dead from the bard's blow. The adept roared with frustration and looked to see who he could vent his anger upon. The closest enemy was riding straight towards the orc spellcaster and for some reason he had three others who looked just like him hovering around him. The adept raised his falchion and spurred his own desert horse forward, eager to match blades with this strange warrior with the acrobatic duplicates. But then the four identical Thurloes each raised a wand and pointed it at the wounded adept and the [I]magic missile[/I] spell slew the orc before the horses met up. Relieved of the burden from his back, the orc's mount veered off and left the field of battle. The lone barbarian had been watching this debacle unfold. Now it seemed he was the last survivor of his band and no longer under the sway of the adept, whose orders had been more and more erratic over the past few weeks. Shaking his head in sadness at the loss of his brothers-in-arms, the sole remaining member of the Tribe of the Lost's raiding party turned his horse back the way they'd come and raced away. "We need to take out those flying weapons!" Alewyth called to the others as she pointed to the living [I]blade barrier[/I] spell. "Ranged weapons and spells!" advised Thurloe, who had seen first-hand what happened when one ventured too close to the living spell. He fetched his bow and started shooting arrows at the living spell while Zander peppered it with [I]magic missiles[/I] and [I]scorching rays[/I]. Alewyth's [I]spiritual warhammer[/I] finally winked out and she was left scavenging the bodies of the orc raiders for their javelins. It was slow going, but eventually they wore down the living spell and its weapons all went flying in all directions as the magic binding them together was sundered. Thurloe rode up to the nearest of the scattered weapons and snorted in disgust; despite having been of quite masterwork quality when they'd lined them all up in the sand for Morisar, they were now all nicked and grooved from constant contact with each other as they flew about and were virtually worthless. However, there were a few goods to be retrieved. The orc adept had the only item of magical value among the orcs, a necklace of the teeth of desert predators that Alewyth's [I]detect magic[/I] spell indicated toughened the skin of the wearer. Morisar's cloak was likewise magical, suffused in an aura of abjuration that protected the wearer with a limited ability to deflect damage. Recovered from the wagon's interior were a [I]quill of transcription[/I] which wrote down the words spoken by the owner; a flask of [I]elixir of dreamless sleep[/I] with six doses remaining (for poor Morisar apparently suffered from repeated nightmares of the deaths of his wife and daughter); a silver holy symbol of Akari, God of Death and Undeath, with rubies in place of the skull's eyes; and a pair of ivory cameos, side views of elven ladies, no doubt his slain family members. Alewyth insisted upon giving the slain elf wizard a proper burial, there by the side of the road where he'd been killed seeking his vengeance against the orcs. Of his falcon familiar there was no sight; it had apparently flown off upon its master's death. The orcs were left to rot in the sun where they'd been slain. Wakuren had been the one to fetch the adept's necklace of teeth and he swore he felt a shudder of revulsion course through his skin upon touching the body of the slain leader of the raiders. The necklace had been given to Xandro; Wakuren had wanted nothing to do with it. Instead, he took Morisar's cloak, promising the elf's spirit he would long remember his courage and dedication in seeking his vengeance. "Let's be gone from here," Wakuren sighed once Morisar had been put to rest. "Caldovia should be about a half hour down the road," pointed out Thurloe, pulling himself up onto Horse's saddle and leading the way to the town where they were to find their next dream victim. Caldovia was indeed not that far away, but the reception they received was not all they had expected. Upon seeing Wakuren at the front of the mule wagon, a half dozen villagers picked up clubs and hammers - whatever weapon they could grab up, pretty much - and blocked the way. Wakuren pulled back on the mules' reins as the others came to a halt beside him. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked pleasantly. One of the villagers spit on the ground before answering. "Exactly what you'd expect, orc!" he sneered. "You got a lot of nerve riding into town after all the times your kind came raiding in from the desert. And you!" - here he pointed a finger at the others on their riding mounts - "Orc sympathizers, are you? You ought to be ashamed!" "First one of you comes at me with their weapons dies here in the street," promised Thurloe, hefting his bastard sword at the ready over one shoulder. "Hold on," demanded Alewyth. "Can you not see the mark of Cal on Wakuren's armor and shield? He's a holy man!" "Don't mean nothing," replied the leader of the six men. "Orcs'll wear any armor, wield any weapons they can scavenge. Everybody knows that." He looked ready to attack, but kept glancing nervously at Thurloe and seemed to be waiting for one of his men to make the first move. Alewyth took advantage of the man's hesitation to cast a [I]calm emotions[/I] spell on the assembled villagers. Then, once everyone had calmed down, she personally vouched for Wakuren's good character and explained why they were in town in the first place. Caldovia was a small enough village that everybody knew exactly who the adventurers were looking for: [B]Jingo Pebble-Brain[/B], who worked odd jobs for those who needed them done. "He's big as a mountain and dumb as a brick, but a nice enough guy" was the common opinion but while he had last been seen at [B]McGillicuddy[/B]'s Inn, nobody was quite sure of his current whereabouts - until they met up with an elderly woman who gave them a better idea of Jingo's current predicament. "It's horrible what that nasty old skinflint has done with poor Jingo. I suggest you check out the stables behind McGillicuddy's Inn, and bless you all if you can put a stop to it." That warranted a trip to McGillicuddy's Inn. Wakuren activated his [I]ring of invisibility[/I] and headed directly to the stables while the others decided to confront the innkeeper. "Jingo?" replied McGillicuddy. "Yeah, I hire him now and again when I got work for him, but I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks now. Probably wandered off again and got hisself lost - the boy's not all there upstairs, you know what I mean?" "So you have no idea where he is?" pushed Alewyth. "That's what I said. Now, you folk interested in renting some rooms or purchasing a meal or something to drink? 'Cause otherwise, I don't think we got anything further to discuss." "I found him," came Wakuren's whispered voice in Alewyth's ear. The dwarf said that would be all for now and turned to leave, the other three following suit. Wakuren canceled his invisibility once back over at the stables. "He's here, in a stall at the back," he said, his voice hardened with anger. A few horses nickered in their stalls as Wakuren went all the way to the back of the stables. There, in the farthest stall to the right, lay an enormous man - probably six and a half feet tall when standing - propped up in the corner, fast asleep. His bald head glistened with wetness; he lay in a puddle of urine and his clothes all reeked of the stuff. A tin cup along the wall held a few silver pieces; apparently McGillicuddy had found a way to earn some money from his handyman while he was trapped in a dream coma, by offering the opportunity to the townsfolk to relieve their bladders on Jingo as he slept. "That little weasel!" fumed Alewyth. "We can't perform the ritual here, with Jingo like that!" She cast a [I]produce water[/I] spell that cleaned the worst of the urine off of his skin and clothes, then they lifted him up and placed him in their wagon. "Where's a safe place to do the ritual?" Xandro asked. They decided to go back to find the elderly lady who had told them where Jingo could be found. Sure enough, she allowed the group to bring Jingo inside and lay him down on her living room floor. Once they explained the ritual they'd be performing, the lady agreed to watch over them as they all slept and ensure they weren't disturbed. Jingo's dream was almost sad in its purity. He was on his hands and knees, building a tower out of painted wooden blocks. A handful of children, four or five years old, were gathered and watched him with rapt attention. Once he had used up all the blocks, the kids clapped and Jingo beamed at his construction. "Whose turn to knock it over?" he asked. "Me!" cried one of the girls, and Jingo watched as she knocked it over, dancing with excitement at the collapsing tower. "I'm next!" one of the little boys cried. "Build it again, Jingo!" Jingo scooped the blocks together in a pile and started painstakingly building another tower. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he concentrated. "Oh, the poor guy," Alewyth sighed. "I almost hate to have to wake him. His life here in the dream is so much better than the one he's stuck with in the real world." She turned to the others. "Do you think we might just leave him?" "I don't know if that's a good idea," replied Wakuren. "Whatever reason the Nightmare King has for trapping people in their dreams, it's best if we stop him when we can." There were already two dreamers the group had been unable to wake from their dreams, a dwarf in an underground city and a bard back in Baron's Haven. "Then how do we wake Jingo from this dream?" asked Zander. "I could try killing him," suggested Thurloe, unsheathing his bastard sword. Then, seeing the scathing looks his friends were giving him, he asked, "What? This is just a dream! Killing him here won't kill him back in the real world!" If Jingo heard any of their talk of killing him he gave it no notice - he was focused on building his tower. "We're not killing him - what's wrong with you?" chided Alewyth. "I could try killing the kids - maybe he'll wake up without an audience." When Alewyth turned on the fighter the look on his face told he had said that just to provoke a reaction out of her. She chose not to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she turned to Jingo and said, "That's a nice building, Jingo, but we have to go now." "Okay," said Jingo at once, getting to his feet and leaving his building half-constructed. He waved to the kids, who all waved back at him. "Maybe I can come back later," he said hopefully. Then Alewyth led him out of the door to his dream and the others followed. Jingo disappeared from the dreamlands upon exiting his dream; the dreamwalkers all willed themselves back to wakefulness and found themselves back in the elderly woman's living room, sitting in a ring around Jingo, who was struggling to a sitting position. "Hello," he said bashfully upon seeing the strangers positioned all around him. "Hello, Jingo," Alewyth said, smiling at the bald man. "How do you feel?" Jingo took a quick stock of the situation. "I'm all wet," he said. "And something stinks." He rubbed his tongue on his sleeve as if trying to get rid of a bad taste in his mouth. "I'll help you get cleaned up," offered the old woman. "And you can stay here with me, if you'd like. I have an extra bedroom in the back that isn't being used." "Okay," agreed Jingo. The group talked it over quietly among themselves and agreed this was probably the best situation Jingo could hope for. Alewyth gathered up some of their funds and set the coins down on an end table. "This ought to help you with expenses for a few months," the dwarven priestess explained. "Why, bless you - bless you all!" replied the elderly lady. And then the dreamwalkers returned to their wagon and mounts outside, ready to leave Caldovia behind and head to their next dream victim. "Where do you think you're all going?" demanded Thurloe. "We're not done here in town just yet." He explained how he intended to kill McGillicuddy for what he'd done to Jingo. "Guy like that's gotta be irredeemably evil," he reasoned. "Nobody's irredeemably evil," countered Wakuren. "You use your aura-sight on him?" "Yes, and he is in fact evil," admitted Wakuren. "But if you kill everyone because they're evil you prevent them from turning their life around. There's no possibility for redemption, then." "You think McGillicuddy's gonna turn his life around?" demanded Thurloe, forcing Wakuren to concede it wasn't likely. "We can't come riding into town and kill people we don't like - no matter how much they deserve it," added Alewyth. "That'd make us no better than the orc raiders who come riding into town and taking what they want, killing anyone who gets in their way." She talked Thurloe out of his killing mood by agreeing they'd take vengeance on the innkeeper, as long as they kept it to the nonlethal variety. And thus it was that the next morning, after the dreamwalkers had long since left Caldovia, McGillicuddy was found drunken and naked in a goat pen in town; to all appearances he'd been enjoying himself with the goats and had slept it off when he finished his partying. That's the story that made it across town, in any case, and nobody believed his stories of having been abducted in the middle of the night and force-fed bottles of his own ale until he passed out. - - - I had a good time prepping the minis for this adventure the night before we played. After gathering up an appropriate amount of orc minis - an adept, two rangers, four barbarians, and four fighters - and an equal number of horses (many of them from Toobs collections), I spent a good half-hour or so using rather small rubber bands (the ones used to hold a ponytail in place, which my granddaughter suggested I purchase to keep my hair out of my face back when I did water aerobics) to keep the orc minis balanced on the back of the horse minis. That ended up working out just fine as a visual, and in the few cases where an orc was dismounted it was easy enough to remove the rubber band and split them up. (The horses usually wandered away from the active fighting when they had no rider spurring them on to battle.) Jingo had been intended as a recurring NPC - I statted him out as an NPC hireling who could join the group so they'd have someone to tend to their animals, much like the NPC "Old Clem" did back in our "Wing Three" campaign. But the players didn't want to have to be responsible for him so they set him up with the kindly old lady who had found out how McGillicuddy had been misusing him. - - - T-shirt worn: Given the orcs' traditional chaotic evil nature, my "Chaotic Evil Means Never Having To Say You're Sorry" T-shirt was the most appropriate, so that's what I went with. [/QUOTE]
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