Seldarn Empire - The Mega-Module Jam

[arwink]

Monday, August 14th, 518 AF, Continued

Durhon pushes Yip in front of him, shoving him the last few feet until the kobold stumbles close the gnomes table. The gnome raises his face from his mug to glare at the kobold.

"Yeth? What do you want?" he growls.

Yip looks up at the gnome, the hate openly displayed on the creatures face. He glances over his shoulder at Durhon, but the dwarf simply give him a grubby grin and a thumbs up before heading off to talk to the black armored human.

"I am Yip, disciple of St Cuthbert, Warrior of the Tunnelhunters and vetran of the Trollmist campaign."
The gnome looks the kobolds brown robes up and down.
"Tunnelhunterth?" he snears. "Do I look like a theif to you?"
"No." Yip answers. He flounders for a few seconds, thinking of something to say. "Can I offer you a drink?"
"No."

Another moment of confused silence. Yip is uneasy with the gnome strangers hostility, unaware of the ancestral hatred between them.

"Care to make a bet?" he offers meekly. The gnomes ears perk up a little.
"What thort of bet?" he asks, his eyes starting to gleam.

Yip thinks of the skills he was trained in before the war, the trick of deflecting an arrow with his bare hands that he never quite got the knack of all the time. The gnome has a number of daggers hidden about his person, tucked into small belt-sheaths and bootsheats, hidden in the folds of his robes.

"You throw a dagger at me," Yip offers. "If I catch it, I owe you a gold. If you hit me, you give me a gold."
"Doethn't thound like much of a bet."
"Well, think of it this way," Yip explains. "You either earn a gold or maim me. Either way, it seems something that would make you happy."

The gnome thinks on this for a second and finds it hard to argue the kobolds logic.

"What if I kill you?"
"I'll take the chance. Consider it a bonus."
"Just one dagger?" The gnome clarifies, "Thrown like any other dagger I'd throw?"

There's a note of eagerness in the question that makes Yip concerned, but he tries to relax. His prior failures have always been with arrows or crossbow bolts, on the field of battle where his concentration was sorely pressed. Surely here, in a small tavern, he can deflect a single dagger thrown by a robed gnome no matter what the throwers skill is.

"Agreed."

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

Yay! Another story hour to read. *adds it to the pile*

I'm sure when I stop posting here everyday it's going to take me about a week to catch up...

 

[arwink]

Monday, August 14th, 518 AF, Continued

Durhon walks cloaser to the black-armored human, noting the dwarf-forged longsword resting by the warriors chair. The tall man doesn't look in good shape - his eyes are already red and bleary from ale, and his close-cropped hair is almost as chaotic and random as Durhon's own. The man in black is staring at the exchange between Yip and the gnome, squinting over his mug of all with an expression of intense concentration.

"Hey," Durhon barks. He pulls a chair closer to the table and sits down. The human turns his gaze to him, stares for a few seconds, then returns his attention to Yip.

"It's a kobold," he mumbles under his breath.
Durhon looks over his shoulder.
"Seems so," he agrees.

The human straightens slightly. His reddened nose twitches slightly as he seems to notice Durhon's odour for the first time, but he manages to hide the expression well.
"It's a kobold," he repeats. "But it's not evil?"
"Aye," Durhon agrees. "Maybe. It's well-trained, at least."
"How?" the human asks. "My vision has been failing me of late, clouding more and more as the days go by, but surely..."

his musing is interupted as Durhon spits out a cloud of watery ale, his expression suddenly irate.
"Grash!" he curses. "You're a paladin."
The dark-haired man nods.
"I am Xoad, Paladin of Heironous," he says. He offers a hand over the table.
"I didn't think you could drink ale," Durhon accuses. Xoad shrugs.
"I've never stopped. Heironous has always seen fit to grant me his powers, no matter how much I drink."
Xoad gives a sudden hiccup.
"Although occasionally his faith in me does seem to waver."

Durhon takes a few moments to absorb this information, eventually draining his ale and holding up two fingers to order more.

"I'm Durhon," he says, shaking the paladins hand. "Soldier. Retired."
He finds it hard to avoid spitting out the last word in disgust.
"You're a vetran of the Trollmists?" Xoad asks.
"Yah."
"An ugly war," Xoad agrees. "I spent six months there, in the initial campaign, before the Heironous visions called me away and the church excused me from service."
"There were ogres to kill," Durhon grunts. "It wasn't all bad. It was more interesting than here. You know much about the area?"
Xoad shrugs. The barkeep arrives with another two ales, places them in front of the paladin and the dwarf.

"You hear anything about this temple?" Durhon asks. "Is it really as empty as everyone says? Nothing nasty lurking in the basement?"
"It's empty," Xoad states simply. "I go out there every now and then, but there's nothing there. Hobgoblins in the upper levels, little more than bandits."
"Hobgoblins are something."
"Not enough," Xoad grumbles. "Heironous sent me here chasing a vision of fire and blood. The end of the world. There is nothing but hobgob...er, I think your kobold may be in trouble."

Durhon turns around in time to see Yip straighten and agree to the gnomes conditions.

"What's the smelly runt up too now?"

The robed kobold backs away, standing in the centre of the taproom with a calm expression on his face. At the same time, the gnome plucks a dagger from his belt and starts chanting, pulling a tiny wooden target from a belt-pouch. Within seconds, the dagger is suddenly shimmering with magical energy.

"Thrown like any other dagger I'd throw," the gnome smirks. Yip looks at the amber glow surrounding the dagger's blade and feels a brief moment of panic.

The gnomes throw is clumsy, but the magic guides the dagger true. Yip's concentration shatters, sudden images of the dagger point cutting through an eye-ball or chest scale filling his head. He lets out a momentary yelp of fear, his hands moving in a trained reflex.

There is a flash of pain, and he looks down to see the dagger sticking through one of his scaly paws. It hurts immensely, but Yip is willing to accept it as the lesser of two evils. He summons as much willpower as he can to avoid grimacing in pain.

"My gold coin?" he asks through gritted teeth. The gnome is grinning widely as he pays.

"Well worth it," the gnome tells him. "Come back any time."

Yip accepts his coin and walks over to the table with Durhon and Xoad. His hand is bleeding profusely, and he tries to stem it with the sash from his robe.

Durhon looks down at him as he arrives.
"Idiot," he grunts. Yip tries to look unconcerned as he sits.

 

[arwink]

Monday, August 14th, 518 AF, Continued

There are a few more hours of drinking. Durhon alternates buying rounds with Xoad, glad to have a companion capable of drinking in quantities equal to his own. Yip sits in the corner, nursing his bloody paw. Drinking ale has become a great deal more complicated since reciving his wound. The human-sized ale tankards have always taken a two paws to lift, and he ends up spilling a good deal of his drink down the front of his robe. As the ale flows, they manage to tease out more of Xoads story. He was originally stationed in the the same church battalion as their companion Taranos, although Xoad doesn't remember ever meeting the dwarven priest. They also find out more about the vision that drew Xoad to the town, and even Durhon has to admit the paladins visions of fire and blood probably don't bode well.

As the afternoon slowly passes, the faint rumblings of hungers start in the companions stomach. With nothing buy beer and berries to eat in the past few days, Durhon is eager to get something approaching a decent dinner, and after tasting the tavern's ale he's not willing to try their food.

"Come on," he calls to his drinking buddies. "Time te go bug Treehugger fer some lunch."

Warwind and Taranos have had a productive day, their larder well stocked after a trip to the market and the first load of lumber being put to good use in repairing Warwinds delapidated hut. Unfortunately, they quickly discover that the skills of a soldier do not translate particularly well to home repairs. Warwind is at home in the trees, the battlefield and the library, but the manual labor of nailing planks over holes is somewhat more haphazard. Worse, he has to keep an eye on Taranos and occasionally remind the dwarf that a plank of wood requires a very different mode of craftsmenship to stone. Taranos swears a lot, and occasionally hits his thumbs with a small hammer.

Neither is particularly pleased when Durhon, Yip and Xoad arrives, but neither are they surprised.

"What in hells have you been up to?" Taranos demands of the drunk trio. Durhon grins and breaks wind, and Yip simply holds up a wounded paw.

"Taranos fix?" he asks.

The dwarven preists grumbles as he chants a short prayer to Heironous, and grumbles more when he's introduced to a drunken paladin of his god. He quickly quizes a suddenly shamefaced Xoad on his reasons for being in the area, and the grumbling quickly turns into outright swearing when he hears the words "End of the world."

"This is just what we need," he spits. "All I wanted was retirement, the chance to relax for a few years before being thrown into the face of evil once more. What do I get? Drunken holy-warriors with portents of doom. Some days I think the shining lord hates the empire."

 

[arwink]

Monday, August 14th, 518 AF, Continued

Xoad is chased off by Taranos outburst, his already unstable faith in Heironous further shaken by the ranting of the dwarven cleric. There is a clap of thunder in the distance, and Yip's tail twitches as he can smell rain on the air.

Warwind looks at the trio standing expectantly around his hut. Eventually he invites them to stay for a meal, none-to-pleased to be sharing his food with the smelly dwarf and confused kobold.

They are midway through the meal when the rain starts, tapping against the rooftop. There are far fewer leaks than the night before, although the walls still contain numerous trails of water seeping through cracks and soaking into the ground. After the meal, they sit on the huts dirt floor and watch the lightening flash through the window.

Late in the afternoon, a cloaked figure appears at the doorway.

"Greetings," a deep voice calls. "I've brought you some blankets."

The man who walks into the hut is tall and red-haired, dressed in a suit of battle-worn armor. He hands a pile of blankets over to the surprised warwin and hunches down beside the small fire the four vetrans have built.

"I'm Elmo," he says. "Head of the town militia. Heard you folks were new in town and thought I'd stop by."

There is a brief round of introductions, then an expectant pause while everyone waits for Elmo to speak. No-one trusts that this is a friendly visit.

"I'll be blunt," Elmo says, looking at their expantant faces. "I'm not happy that the Empire is farming off vetrans to the smaller towns. Nothing personal, but what are you folk planning to do now you're here? Hommlet's a small place, know what I'm saying? The people work hard, and everyone does there bit to keep things that way. The towns had a hard past, and we don't want anything disturbing that. Especially not a bunch of bored vetrans with little cash and fewer skills."

Elmo pointedly eyes the haphazard patchwork job on the ceiling.

"So, now that you're here, do you have any plans?"

There is a general chorus of confusion. None of the vetrans had expected the war to end, becoming acostomed to the unending years of battle.

"Well," Elmo grins, "people aren't as comfortable with idle warriors sitting around the town as they once were. It's not like the Temple's still looming over us and we need the spare blades. Now the towns more peaceful. I was thinking, if you want to earn yourselves a little goodwill, might I suggest doing something for the watch? Just a favor, no payment, but it might help get some of the locals on side..."

Durhon is all to eager to agree, responding before anyone else has processed the offer. His voice is eager and hungry.

"You got something fer us to kill?"

"No, no," Elmo says. "Well, probably not. See, I've heard a couple of rumors about strange folks in the hills, robed people heading out to the old Moathouse to the east of town. It's probably nothing - robed strangers have traditionally been bad news for Hommlet, but normally they head straight out to the ruins and don't bother with the minor strongholds. We figured anything worthwhile in the moathouse had been picked clean years ago anyway. But just in case, well, if you've got nothing else to do you might want to go check the old mouthouse out. Just to put my mind at ease, help everyone in town relax a bit."

The four vetrans look at one another. Yip is hunched down, nodding eagerly at the chance to do something to help his new home. Maybe, if he's lucky, these robed strangers would be thives and he can hunt like the old days. Warwind and Taranos are less eager, but can see the logic in earning some goodwill from the town. Durhons already on his feet and shaking hands with Elmo as the others make their decision.

"We're on it." He grunts. "Find 'em, check 'em out and kill 'em if they're up to no good. Been looking for some action anyway."

Elmo beams. He bids them goodnight as they start making plans, then walks out into the rain wiping a smear of Durhon's grime from the palm of his hand.

 

[arwink]

Tuesday, August 15th, 518 AF

The four vetrans set out the next morning, ready and raring to face anything they may find at the old moathouse. They're armed with little information about the area, simpy hoping that Elmo's vague description of "at the end of the overgrown path leading east, about a day and a halfs travel from town..." is as accurate as they need.

The first days travel is fairly easy. The lands around Hommlet are lush and green, with occasional groves of trees and small woods breaking the monotony of farmland. It takes them the better part of the day before they reach the less civilised hills to the east, and the path becomes more overgrown and harder to follow. As night falls, they look for a camp. Eventually Durhon suggests a small hilltop, a cluster of stones providing cover from the wind and the arrows of any stray goblin war-party that may happen along. They quickly start a small fire and they settle down to an evening of iron rations.

Yip is the first to hear something moving in the dark beyond their firelight. His ears prick up instantly, and the koblolds wiry frame is suddenly snapped to attentiveness.

"Yep smell something," he barks. "Something moving out there."
Durhon opens his mouth to make a ribald comment at the remark, but closes it again when he sees Taranos scowl.
"Can you sneak up on it?" the dwarven cleric asks. Yip shrugs. It isn't like sneaking through the thieves tunnels beneath the capital, but he's sure he can adapt. Seeing Taranos nod, he slinks off into the darkness beyond the firelight, crawling on all fours towards the nearest sizable rock.

Taranos, Warwind and Durhon go back to their meal, but all three are much more alert than before. Warwind makes sure a loaded crossbow is within easy reach, while Durhon and Taranos make sure their weapons are in place for a quick, easy draw.

Yip slinks forward. With his nightvision, he can see the dim outline of the watcher against the dark-grey shape of the rocks. The shape doesn't appear to be looking for him, and instead leans over the stone and gazes down at the fire and Yips companions. As Yip creeps closer, he can hear the strange figure muttering to itself.

"Fire and food. Strangers with fire and food. Who would have thought. Out here. And no robes, this time round. Who'd have thunk it? Do you think they'll share? If I ask nicely? Maybe they want to trade..."

Yip pauses behind a rock, listening to the constant random mumbling echo through the darkness. The small kobold has three shiruken clenched in one fist, ready to fling at a dangerous target, but something tells him they wont be necessary.

Warwind, Taranos and Durhon let out an audible groan of surprise when they hear Yip's high-pitched voice cutting through the darkness.
"Yip say hello. Who you?"
It's followed, almost immediately, by a hoarse and croaky voice screaming in fear.

"AAAaaarghh! Wild kobold."

 

[arwink]

Tuesday, August 15th, 518 AF, Continued

Yip holds his paws in the air as he approaches the panicking figure, trying hard to look unthreatening.

"Yip not hurt," the kobold says forcefully. "Brother Yip work for the Church."

Before he gets further into his placating speach, a pair of dwarves come barreling out of the darkness and put themselves between the screaming human and the kobold.

"Shut up," Durhon screams, his face twisting into a snarl. "Every blasted critter in a twelve mile radius heard you screaming, and a wild kobold ain't goin to scare 'em off."

The angry dwarf's grim visage and odour do little to calm the man down. Taranos sends his companions back to the fire and tries to calm the stranger down on his own. Although short, he does bear the holy symbol of Heironous and has bathed at least once in recent memory, so he does a lot better. He convinces the stranger to stop screaming, explains that Yip is tame and a servant of St Cuthbert's church, and eventually convinces the man to join them by the fire.

The human Taranos leads into the fire is ragged, his clothing patchedworked with cured pelts from a dozen animals. There are small twigs twinned into his matted hair, and the half-crazed grin he offers the vetrans is missing several teeth.
"This is Del," Taranos says. "Someone give him some food."

Warwind is the only person carrying spare rations, and there is a great deal of grumbling from the elf as he hands over a few strips of dried meat and a bread loaf. After weeks of watching Durhon eating, none of them react to the undisguised gusto that Del uses to attack his food, gobbets of spit and half-chewed food dropping out of his mouth. The wild-eyed man grins happily as he talks around his meal.

"Many thanks," he says. "Ain't had a meal like that in a while. Gets' sparse, out here. Not much call for bakers to travel this far out, ye know? And I'm not much of a cook myself."

There is a quick round of questions, and the vetrans discover that Del is a hermit who lives in the hills. He hides out in a few scattered caves, although he won't give them any idea of where they are, and he makes a meager living trapped and skinning creatures for an elven merchant who makes a pilgrimage to the hills once every three months or so.

Eventually, Yip asks about strangers wandering the hills.

"Sure," Del says. "But they aren't real friendly folk. Brown robed, a lot of them. Priestlike. They wander back and forth between the town and the old gatehouse. Sometimes they even bring wagons. They gots beastmen with 'em, big buggers with axes and fur. They act all secret-like, but old Del see's em. They're in my hills, so I know they're here."

"The gatehouse?" Taranos says. "They're actually poking around in the ruins?"
Del nods. Durhon is grins to himself at the news.
"Looks like I'll gets to kill something soon after all."

Del immediately widens his eyes, panic writ on his features.
"No," he screams. "Don't go to the gatehouse. It's dangerous. Frightening. Not safe to go there, even before. People don't stay dead, not even the brown-robes. Dangers. Many dangers."

Everyone shrugs. They were expecting as much anyway. Ruined strongholds of evil gods have a natural attraction for the undead. Then Warwind runs through Del's statement in his head, and runs across a frightening thought.

"Even before?" he asks. "You mean its worse since the clerics and beastmen came?"
"No," Del replies. "They were just poking around. Worse since the dragon came. Big bugger, just landed in the ruins and crawled inside. I been hearing screams from inside for days. Don't wanna be goin near a dragon. It ain't healthy."

No-one has anything to say to tha, but there's a sudden clench of fear and doubt in every gut. They were asked to track down stray priests, not slay a dragon. Even after the horrors of the Trollmists, it's not a prospect they look forward too.

They set watch, and everyone tries to sleep while Warwind takes first shift. Del curles up by their fire, drifting off into sleep in a matter of seconds. The Vetrans, trying to remember as much dragon lore as they can, take a lot longer to drift off.

 

[arwink]

Wednesday, August 16th, 518 AF

The moathouse isn't the imposing sight the group was expecting. They crest a nearby hill in the dim light of the morning, having left a sleeping Del by the ashes of their fire. The Moathouse lies below them, a ramshackle ruin barely larger than a manor house. The upper story of the small keep has fallen in, the moat has turned to a dank bog and the tower has crumbled to rubble. Only the short walls that suround the building and the bare remains of the Boathouse itself remain, and even then the roof has caved in at various points. While the party was expecting sinister, but instead they find themselves underawed by the supposed site of evil.

"Arg," Durhon curses. "What a crock."
"There's still a dragon," Taranos reminds him. "That's not something to look forward too."
"Like we're trusting the word of a looney who wanders the hills alone and can't properly cure a hide."

Durhon tries to grin, but a faint undercurrent of fear can be detected in his voice. He tightens his grip on his enchanted greataxe, ready for everything.

The four companions head down the hill towards the ruined gate. They can see a boggy pool of water filled with reeds near the path, but more worrying is three strong timber planks laid accross the ruined remnants of a drawbridge.

"Someone's been here recently," Warwind comments. Everyone nods and starts heading for the drawbridge.

Yip's emotions are calm this morning, and he feels a sense of inner peace he hasn't achieved since before the start of the war. The feeling of hunting those who break the law, even such a simple law as those favored by Hommlet's locals, brings a sense of wellbeing he'd almost forgotten. Perhaps its because of this inner peace that his senses become more attuned, and he's the only one of the party to notice a rustling in the reed-filled pool.

"Something moving," he hisses. He pulls a fistfull of shiruken from the folds of his robe and drops into a defensive stance. The rest of the party turns to follow his gaze.

"I don't see anything," Durhon complains. "Bloody runts seeing things."
Yip shakes his head.
"No, something there. Definately."

The reeds remain gently blowing in the breeze. Taranos, Warwind and Durhon exchange glances - it's obvious Yip thinks there's something there, and they aren't heading forward until someone investigates. Durhon suddenly realises that everyone's looking at him expectantly.

"What?" he grumbles.
Taranos points at the pool.
"Yer kiddin me," Durhon says, but he moves closer to the pool none the less. He walks up to the pool, armor clanking, and pokes at the reeds with his axe.

"See," he says over his shoulder, "Baint nothin' in here."

About this point a sticky, pink tendril shoots out of the reeds and wraps itself a round the dwarf. Durhon gives a short cry as the tendril wraps his arms close to his body, trapping his waraxe too close to his chest to be manavuered. Everyone reacts at once, rushing to the waters edge with bows, crossbows and shiruken prepared, looking desperately for something to aim at. They find nothing, and within seconds Durhon has managed to struggle his way free. He backs away from the pool, axe at the ready, and everyone follows suite.

"Right," he orders. "Everyone avoid the water."
Warwind sniffs at the dwarves stench.
"How's that different from your normal policy."

They give the reed sodden pool a wide berth and cross over the drawbridge. They hide for a moment in the remains of an old gatehouse, small but serviceable enough to give them cover. Durhon and Yip lean out past the ruined remains of the gates and look accross the courtyard. There's a good eighty to a hundred feet between their hiding spot and the main doors to the keep, and the interior they can see betyond the main doors is murky to say the least. There are also arrowslits, about half a dozen, that remain in the walls that haven't yet falled in. Both of them go back to hiding. If someone, or something, was planning an ambush, this is the obvious place.

"Go scout the doors," Durhon tells Yip. The kobold doesn't look pleased at the prospect.
"Look, yer's the smallest and the quietest," Durhon says. "Ye also smell the worst. If there's something out there, maybe it wont want to take a chunk out of you. We'll be here. If something jumps at you, I'll be there to axe it down faster than you can scream."

Yip looks to Taranos and Warwind for support, but they merely ready bow and crossbow and nodded support for Durhon's plan.

"There is no individual, only the team," Yip thinks, a mantra from his training. Somehow, it had a lot more resonance when his team were similarly devoted kobolds. He lets out a small sigh and prepares to creep into the courtyard.

Yip keeps his senses alert and his mind focus. Staying close the walls doesn't seem like a good option - he's had one bad experience to many with arrow slits in thives dens, so he tries to look small and innoffensive as he crawls towards the centre of the courtyard.

He crawls on all fours, close to the ground, and does his best to stay in the shadow of the keeps upright walls. It's not a lot of concealment, but it may be enough. He gets halfway to the keeps main doors when he realises its not.

A draconic head, Lizardlike and covered with dark, heavy scales, lifts itself from the shadows of the doorway. Yip's senses screaming danger and he reacts instinctively, his arm reaching for his shiruken and flinging them at the door. Two of the throwing blades embed in the rotting wood of the door, while a third skitters uselessly of the stone wall. Yip has enough time to curse his luck before the dragons jaws open, and the smell of ozone cuts through the air seconds before a blast of lightning leaps across the courtyard...

 

[CoopersPale]

Brother Yip is cool!

Just thought you may enjoy a message of support fo this story hour.
I really like this arwink, It's funny and well written.
I'm glad I clicked the link and had a read.
(which I will continue to do)


keep it up!

 

[arwink]

Thanks (and may I say, that's a fine screenname you've got there. Makes me thirsty just looking at it...)

I have a certain fondness for Yip - he causes very little damage (strength penalty and low damage punches) but his AC serves him well, particularly against touch attacks.

And as you'll see in the fight against the dragon, he does have one weapon that makes him as effective as the rest of the party...