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In Hextor's Name (Completed 22 Oct 2004)
- Thread starter Capellan
- Start date
arwink
Clockwork Golem
Zalich's Log, Entry Three
Warmth. Most people forget the simple luxury of warmth until it's taken from them. It's a foolish thing to do, something I've rarely forgotten since the incident with the ice-flow and the silver arrow. Once we got the furnace started, I could feel my toes for the first time in hours - a luxury I reveled in, let me tell you.
Let me tell you something about adventurers though - they're never content to leave something alone. If there's a lever to be pulled or a ruin to poke around in, they're none to keen to wait a while before they run riot trying to stick thier noses into trouble.
We were warm, we had wounded, and to be honest there little magic I'd memorized for the day that could be useful to our situation, so I was more than happy to barricade myself in the kitchen until dawn, at the least, or the storm was over, at the latest. In the morning, there was a far greater selection of useful spells I'd recorded for just this sort of situtation, including several cantrips for drying our fire-wood and keeping us warm. Unfortunately, every other concscious and hearty survivor was part of this adventuring plague and decided to explore the upper levels.
Why I tailed along for this is beyond me. There were walking dead up there, in small numbers, but the rag-tag group of survivors had no real knowledge of tactics. No sooner had they opened the door to a room and spotted and walking skeleton than they charged forward, virtually bursting through the doorframes in an effort to swing their swords through skeletal ribs. It happened again and again, door after door, until both Brodnak and Kull numbered among our seriously wounded, and several of the others bore gashes and bruises. With my small size, I knew there was little point trying to join in the rush, and what spells I have are designed to be fired from ship to ship - without the interferance of a dozen bodies between me and my target.
Tactically sound, these stranger are. I shudder to think what may happen should we run into a pack of ravenous kobolds. I find myself wishing for the well-trained crew of the Silver Arrow again and again as the day wore on.
Back to the kitchen it was, then. We set up a rudimentry camp and I cooked another meal (thank the gods that at least I had the foresite to grab a meal or twelve before fleeing the ship).
The folly of exploring the upper levels was revealed fairly quickly. After nightfall, there was the sound of something hammering at the front doors.
Those of us who were unwounded went to investigate, concerned that anything would be out in the snow-storm that raged outside. I crept along the hallway with the druid, while the two female warriors circled around through the statue room.
By the time we'd reached the entry-hall, the creatures had already broken through. They looked like men - albeit northlander barbarians - but their skin was deathly pale and they were seemingly unconcerned by the piles of snow and frost that clung to them. I called out a greeting, hoping against hope they might give us some clue of our location or at least avoid combat. No such luck. They mumbled something in a foreign tongue and lurched forward, weapons at the ready.
That was all I needed. I fired off a quick spell I'd been taught, draining the strength of one of the creatures. Initially I'd been taught it to disable the strongest line-men during a bording, but it worked just as well here. The creature roared, then my companions fell upon them. It was a furious battle, far worse than anything we'd engaged in on the upper levels, but the open space of the entry hall made things infinately easier. Troylin proved a very, very able fighter should her oppenent be even slightly distracted, and the ability to flank our enemies proved a sound enough tactic that you'd think the others would get the message and remember it for later combat. I'm not known for my skill with club, although I've had some training, but even I struck a magnificent blow that killed the beast my magic had weakened. Everything flew by in a manner of seconds, and by the end both the frost-men were dead and we had sustained only a few wounds. Kull hobbled into the room in the wake of the fight, seemingly unhappy that he missed the melee, but he seemed strangely impressed by our victory. He's an odd one, that cleric. Grim and unbending, but without the unrelenting cruelty and desire for personal glory I associate with most of his church.
A quick examination of their bodies provided little treasure (Both Troilan and Jillian were searching the bodies before they'd even struck the floor), but it did reveal sharp teeth on our attackers. Sharp, obviously filed teeth. I'd read about such things before, usually in tribes of cannibals, and reported it to the others. A grim mood fell over everyone at the thought, although either Brodnack or one of the half-orcs made an ill-timed comment about joining their preference should I food not hold out.
I was green at the thought, and seriously considered incapacitating the guilty party while they slept for the greater good of the group, but it's probably just as well given what happened next. Gods, there are some dangerous things in this world, and for some reason they always show up just when you're trying to sleep...
Warmth. Most people forget the simple luxury of warmth until it's taken from them. It's a foolish thing to do, something I've rarely forgotten since the incident with the ice-flow and the silver arrow. Once we got the furnace started, I could feel my toes for the first time in hours - a luxury I reveled in, let me tell you.
Let me tell you something about adventurers though - they're never content to leave something alone. If there's a lever to be pulled or a ruin to poke around in, they're none to keen to wait a while before they run riot trying to stick thier noses into trouble.
We were warm, we had wounded, and to be honest there little magic I'd memorized for the day that could be useful to our situation, so I was more than happy to barricade myself in the kitchen until dawn, at the least, or the storm was over, at the latest. In the morning, there was a far greater selection of useful spells I'd recorded for just this sort of situtation, including several cantrips for drying our fire-wood and keeping us warm. Unfortunately, every other concscious and hearty survivor was part of this adventuring plague and decided to explore the upper levels.
Why I tailed along for this is beyond me. There were walking dead up there, in small numbers, but the rag-tag group of survivors had no real knowledge of tactics. No sooner had they opened the door to a room and spotted and walking skeleton than they charged forward, virtually bursting through the doorframes in an effort to swing their swords through skeletal ribs. It happened again and again, door after door, until both Brodnak and Kull numbered among our seriously wounded, and several of the others bore gashes and bruises. With my small size, I knew there was little point trying to join in the rush, and what spells I have are designed to be fired from ship to ship - without the interferance of a dozen bodies between me and my target.
Tactically sound, these stranger are. I shudder to think what may happen should we run into a pack of ravenous kobolds. I find myself wishing for the well-trained crew of the Silver Arrow again and again as the day wore on.
Back to the kitchen it was, then. We set up a rudimentry camp and I cooked another meal (thank the gods that at least I had the foresite to grab a meal or twelve before fleeing the ship).
The folly of exploring the upper levels was revealed fairly quickly. After nightfall, there was the sound of something hammering at the front doors.
Those of us who were unwounded went to investigate, concerned that anything would be out in the snow-storm that raged outside. I crept along the hallway with the druid, while the two female warriors circled around through the statue room.
By the time we'd reached the entry-hall, the creatures had already broken through. They looked like men - albeit northlander barbarians - but their skin was deathly pale and they were seemingly unconcerned by the piles of snow and frost that clung to them. I called out a greeting, hoping against hope they might give us some clue of our location or at least avoid combat. No such luck. They mumbled something in a foreign tongue and lurched forward, weapons at the ready.
That was all I needed. I fired off a quick spell I'd been taught, draining the strength of one of the creatures. Initially I'd been taught it to disable the strongest line-men during a bording, but it worked just as well here. The creature roared, then my companions fell upon them. It was a furious battle, far worse than anything we'd engaged in on the upper levels, but the open space of the entry hall made things infinately easier. Troylin proved a very, very able fighter should her oppenent be even slightly distracted, and the ability to flank our enemies proved a sound enough tactic that you'd think the others would get the message and remember it for later combat. I'm not known for my skill with club, although I've had some training, but even I struck a magnificent blow that killed the beast my magic had weakened. Everything flew by in a manner of seconds, and by the end both the frost-men were dead and we had sustained only a few wounds. Kull hobbled into the room in the wake of the fight, seemingly unhappy that he missed the melee, but he seemed strangely impressed by our victory. He's an odd one, that cleric. Grim and unbending, but without the unrelenting cruelty and desire for personal glory I associate with most of his church.
A quick examination of their bodies provided little treasure (Both Troilan and Jillian were searching the bodies before they'd even struck the floor), but it did reveal sharp teeth on our attackers. Sharp, obviously filed teeth. I'd read about such things before, usually in tribes of cannibals, and reported it to the others. A grim mood fell over everyone at the thought, although either Brodnack or one of the half-orcs made an ill-timed comment about joining their preference should I food not hold out.
I was green at the thought, and seriously considered incapacitating the guilty party while they slept for the greater good of the group, but it's probably just as well given what happened next. Gods, there are some dangerous things in this world, and for some reason they always show up just when you're trying to sleep...
Capellan
Explorer
First, the bad news: that silly lad arwink managed to fall over and dislocate his arm, which led to him missing the second session of the game (not that we've finished the SH for the first session yet, mind you). So at some point, we're going to have to rely on just Kull's* perspective on what occurred (unless one of the other players does a guest spot, anyway).
Now, the good news: an update!
* I'm sure Brodnak will chim in, but his updates tend to be rather ... concise ...
Now, the good news: an update!
* I'm sure Brodnak will chim in, but his updates tend to be rather ... concise ...
Capellan
Explorer
Kull's First Report, Part 4
The creature came in the middle of the night.
It made no attempt to conceal its approach, and those on guard were quick to waken myself and the others. Already weakened by our earlier battles, and with no knowledge of what approached, I knew we were ill-equipped to face another foe. But when Hextor wills battle, it is foolish to try and deny Him.
Brodnak and the more reliable of the human females took the front line of defence at one door, while I directed the others in blocking the second. Weapons and spells at the ready, we waited: but not for long.
The creature burst in through the door guarded by the two warriors, bringing with it a wave of frigid air. Man-tall, but gaunt, it was dressed only in frost-rimed rags. It's flesh was pallid, tinged with blue, and I knew immediately that we faced an undead creature far more powerful than the mere skeletons and zombies we had encountered thus far.
Both warriors struck, their blades drawing sprays of ice crystals, but the creature ignored them both, lurching past them and down the stairs: toward the furnace.
Zalich was the first to react, scrambling after it. I called to him to use his magic to invoke fire, but he chose instead to cast a feeble beam of energy, which the creature barely seemed to feel. It felt Troilan's contribution to the fight even less, as her blade did not even get within a foot of it.
Pausing only long enough to backhand Troilan; a blow that immediately crumpled the woman to the floor; the creature lurched onward. Knowing that I was the only one with the skills to stabilise the young fool, I moved to her side, while instructing the others to pursue the creature.
They quickly disappeared beyond the corner, the sounds of combat clearly reaching me as I bound Troilan's injury. The wound was as troublesome as the woman herself, and by the time I was done, the sounds had already lessened, moving further away. I hurried on as best I could, knowing from the injuries it had already inflicted that the creature would soon fell more of the others.
Even as I reached the store room, however, I saw the warm glow of the furnace suddenly snuffed out, plunging the chamber into darkness. Thanks to my heritage, this made no difference to me, but I knew that the others would be even more helpless, now.
Suddenly the creature burst back into the room. I readied myself to face it as it strode forward, but then I heard Zalich call out for aid. I was tempted to ignore the halfling, but as Hextor teaches us: the Only Honour is in Victory. To face the creature alone, in my wounded state, would surely mean my death. And thus instead I stood aside and let it past, then made my way to the furnace room.
There lay Brodnak and the self-styled 'Druid', both in pools of their own spreading blood. Judging the nature-worshipper to be closer to death, I attended him first. As well for him I did. Had I not, he would have learned first hand in the afterlife the folly of his misguided beliefs.
Once I had also bound the wounds of Brodnak, I instructed the others to assist me in restarting the furnace. At first they hesitated, protesting that to do so might draw the creature back, but they accepted the wisdom of my instructions when I reminded them out that without the warmth, we would surely not survive the night.
It took time to clear the now frozen coal, and slowly build up the fire again, but the exertion helped keep out the chill, at least.
Having already had some rest, and with injured at hand, I bade the women sleep, and stood watch for the rest of the night. Even now, I give thanks to Hextor that the creature did not return at that time. Our deaths would have been assured.
At last, I knew the time had come when I could once more prayer to our Lord for his divine grace. He knew my need, and granted me every ounce of healing that I requested. Through His Will, I was able to restore both Brodnak and the druid to good health, and alleviate the wounds suffered by myself.
Despite his ridiculous faith, the druid's healing arts soon proved useful, as he revived Troilan, and tended the injuries suffered by the others. With all six of our number once more on their feet, and the navigator also much recovered, there seemed to be some who though the worst was past.
This, of course, was foolishness. The enemy had withdrawn, but was far from defeated: in fact, if anything, he had been victorious. I reminded the group of this, and that it is Hextor's Will that only the strong and the disciplined will prevail.
When night fell, we could be sure the creature would return, and we could be equally sure that we would either be prepared for it, or we would fall.
The creature came in the middle of the night.
It made no attempt to conceal its approach, and those on guard were quick to waken myself and the others. Already weakened by our earlier battles, and with no knowledge of what approached, I knew we were ill-equipped to face another foe. But when Hextor wills battle, it is foolish to try and deny Him.
Brodnak and the more reliable of the human females took the front line of defence at one door, while I directed the others in blocking the second. Weapons and spells at the ready, we waited: but not for long.
The creature burst in through the door guarded by the two warriors, bringing with it a wave of frigid air. Man-tall, but gaunt, it was dressed only in frost-rimed rags. It's flesh was pallid, tinged with blue, and I knew immediately that we faced an undead creature far more powerful than the mere skeletons and zombies we had encountered thus far.
Both warriors struck, their blades drawing sprays of ice crystals, but the creature ignored them both, lurching past them and down the stairs: toward the furnace.
Zalich was the first to react, scrambling after it. I called to him to use his magic to invoke fire, but he chose instead to cast a feeble beam of energy, which the creature barely seemed to feel. It felt Troilan's contribution to the fight even less, as her blade did not even get within a foot of it.
Pausing only long enough to backhand Troilan; a blow that immediately crumpled the woman to the floor; the creature lurched onward. Knowing that I was the only one with the skills to stabilise the young fool, I moved to her side, while instructing the others to pursue the creature.
They quickly disappeared beyond the corner, the sounds of combat clearly reaching me as I bound Troilan's injury. The wound was as troublesome as the woman herself, and by the time I was done, the sounds had already lessened, moving further away. I hurried on as best I could, knowing from the injuries it had already inflicted that the creature would soon fell more of the others.
Even as I reached the store room, however, I saw the warm glow of the furnace suddenly snuffed out, plunging the chamber into darkness. Thanks to my heritage, this made no difference to me, but I knew that the others would be even more helpless, now.
Suddenly the creature burst back into the room. I readied myself to face it as it strode forward, but then I heard Zalich call out for aid. I was tempted to ignore the halfling, but as Hextor teaches us: the Only Honour is in Victory. To face the creature alone, in my wounded state, would surely mean my death. And thus instead I stood aside and let it past, then made my way to the furnace room.
There lay Brodnak and the self-styled 'Druid', both in pools of their own spreading blood. Judging the nature-worshipper to be closer to death, I attended him first. As well for him I did. Had I not, he would have learned first hand in the afterlife the folly of his misguided beliefs.
Once I had also bound the wounds of Brodnak, I instructed the others to assist me in restarting the furnace. At first they hesitated, protesting that to do so might draw the creature back, but they accepted the wisdom of my instructions when I reminded them out that without the warmth, we would surely not survive the night.
It took time to clear the now frozen coal, and slowly build up the fire again, but the exertion helped keep out the chill, at least.
Having already had some rest, and with injured at hand, I bade the women sleep, and stood watch for the rest of the night. Even now, I give thanks to Hextor that the creature did not return at that time. Our deaths would have been assured.
At last, I knew the time had come when I could once more prayer to our Lord for his divine grace. He knew my need, and granted me every ounce of healing that I requested. Through His Will, I was able to restore both Brodnak and the druid to good health, and alleviate the wounds suffered by myself.
Despite his ridiculous faith, the druid's healing arts soon proved useful, as he revived Troilan, and tended the injuries suffered by the others. With all six of our number once more on their feet, and the navigator also much recovered, there seemed to be some who though the worst was past.
This, of course, was foolishness. The enemy had withdrawn, but was far from defeated: in fact, if anything, he had been victorious. I reminded the group of this, and that it is Hextor's Will that only the strong and the disciplined will prevail.
When night fell, we could be sure the creature would return, and we could be equally sure that we would either be prepared for it, or we would fall.
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