Broccli_Head
Explorer
Wow! the heroes are really in trouble now.
When does the cavalry come riding in?
When does the cavalry come riding in?
-
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Sniktch's Story Hour - City of the Spider Queen (Updated 04/25)
- Thread starter Sniktch
- Start date
Sniktch
First Post
The abandonment of Jack
BH: Cavalry? What cavalry? Unless Artimas and Welby decide to reveal themselves, Quinn and Grick are very much alone! Jack's decision to run kind of broke the spirit of the remaining members.
The ironic thing is the vast majority of the assembled drow are actually just level 1 warriors with 4 hp each - if they hadn't been frightened by the sheer number of their opponents, the party may just have stood a fighting chance!
Still, all is not lost yet - let's proceed with the next update:
*****
Welby watched as the dark elves responded to the sound of the whistle, immediately going into a heightened state of readiness. One of the warriors called out to the sentries standing near the cliff edge and the halfling cursed silently as one of the drow disappeared over the side and the others moved to join the raiding party. The rogue was quickly losing any hope of being able to influence the outcome of this battle. He pressed closer to the wall and stared helplessly at the parade of warriors and undead until the last dark elf had passed him, then wriggled up the rope and followed a short distance behind the raiders. He would at least see what happened and would assist his friends if the opportunity presented itself. He was nearly as startled as the drow when the glowing dwarf suddenly appeared and zoomed by, chased by two howling dark elf wizards. They were moving far too quickly for Welby to follow, so he ignored them and continued following the warriors to the site of his companions’ camp.
*****
Jack zoomed over the heads of the startled drow and nearly made it past them untouched – only the last rank of warriors had time to raise their crossbows and fire shots before he zipped over their heads. He grimaced as a couple of bolts grazed him but kept going. As he rounded the corner a flying drow materialized in mid-air and raised its arms, throwing a crackling sheet of electricity into the dwarf. At the same time another drow wizard floated up from the ranks of the assembled warriors and buffeted the flying dwarf with icy winds and large chunks of ice. Jack ignored both attacks and plowed through the wizard in his path, keeping his boots activated and flying for the surface for all he was worth.
The pair of wizards took up pursuit, one of them leveling a crossbow and hitting Jack with a bolt before he rounded the corner, the other barely clipping him with another lightning bolt. Next the two downed potions of speed so that they could keep up with the dwarf and zoomed off down the hallway. Jack struggled to keep his eyes open as the levels of drow toxin built up in his bloodstream and continued his bruising flight, clipping the walls and ricocheting around corners as he remained at top speed. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with the silent figure standing in the middle of the hallway - Igor! Artimas had forgotten to collect his pet zombie after the last couple of battles and it remained where he’d left it, still following its last set of instructions.
The zombie ignored the dwarf and he prayed it would provide a split-second distraction so that he could increase his lead on his pursuers. The tunnel would be much straighter ahead and he wasn’t sure he’d survive another blast of lightning.
The first dark elf sped around the corner and pulled to a stop, regarding the figure before it. The man had obviously been dead for some time; worms wriggled in empty sockets, rotting flesh dripped from stiffened limbs, and many of the man’s body parts appeared to have been sewed into place. Still, the figure stood in the middle of the hallway, regarding the approaching wizard with its unseeing eyes. The second wizard caught up and stopped beside the first.
“Why have you stopped?” he hissed.
The first drow pointed at Igor. “It looks like he left a guard behind. I exhausted my spells on that elf earlier and, while I am confident that I can bring down a single, naked dwarf, I chose not to take any unnecessary risks with his undead servant.”
The second wizard sneered, pulled forth a wand, and released a burst of electricity at the zombie. Igor exploded messily as the current raced through his dead limbs. The mage put his wand away and turned back to the city, snickering, “Just wait until Susztam hears that you let one of them get away because you were frightened by a zombie. Let us return to the others before all of the fun is finished.”
“What of the dwarf?”
“Your hesitancy has cost us any chance of catching the dwarf. He is on the surface now and that is his domain, not ours. Besides, the coward is insignificant – he left his friends behind to die. He will not be returning.”
Jack, meanwhile, had reached the exit and sucked in the cool night air gratefully as he exited the confines of the Dorien crypts. He landed by the wagon and grabbed his riding gear, rushing to his war pony’s side and hastily buckling on the saddle, bit, and harness. When he was finished he pulled himself astride his trusty steed and kicked it into a trot, steering the pony toward the north and Travensburg. It appeared that the dark elf wizard’s assessment had been correct – as far as Jack was concerned, everyone else had perished, and he had no plan or desire to return to this foul place ever again. It was finally time for him to make good on his promise to the dwarf king and finish lifting the curse from Duernfast.
He rode throughout the night, steering far to the east of Lord Bryson’s house and the town of Bryan’s Stone. He continued riding well into the day before finally stopping to camp, until he and his pony were both in danger of collapsing from exhaustion. By this time he had left Bryson’s lands far behind, and if he could maintain his pace he’d be back in Travensburg before a fortnight passed. By this time some of his friends and companions would be dead, but Jack was alive and was not looking back.
*****
Welby stared in horror at the scene before him. A wall of stone blocked the chamber where his friends had set up camp, and four of the undead creatures they’d faced stood before the hewn granite, raining blow after blow of their acidic fists upon the barrier. Nearly two dozen dark elves stood watching this scene with expressions of bored amusement, chattering amongst themselves with a combination of the spoken word and flashed hand signals. While Welby understood none of their words the meaning was clear – these degenerates were enjoying themselves! He’d sent his shadow through the floor to see what was beyond the wall, and it reported to him that Quinn knelt in prayer just beyond the barricade while Grick was busy draining a small keg of whiskey and the elf slumbered peacefully nearby. There was no sign of Artimas, and he wondered what had become of the mage.
Unbeknownst to the halfling, the necromancer clung to the ceiling nearby, studying the action happening nearly directly below him. While the halfling’s thoughts were filled with fear for his friends, the wizard had other things on his mind as he examined the relentless work of the undead below him. So lovely, he thought, such a perfect creation of death. I must have one for study – I must learn the secrets of their creation!
Beyond the wall the scene was very much as Welby’s shadow had reported to him. Malobar was still under the effects of the sleep toxin and snored gently upon his bed of cobwebs and stone. Quinn prayed fervently for deliverance from this evil, although she did not hold out much hope for survival. Grick had decided that the final battle was upon him and was busy drinking all of the alcohol he’d carried into the underdark with him. The half-orc currently wore an expression only slightly less intelligent than that of the average cow, but Quinn still envied him his stupor. When the end came, Grick would feel no pain.
She rose to her feet then as the first cracks began to appear in the wall, hefting her mace and preparing herself for what might be her final battle. The wall began to shudder and chips began to fall loose under the continued blows of the undead; soon it would begin. “Grick!” she whispered meaningfully at her companion, and he shot her a bleary, stupid grin and abandoned the keg he’d been working on, moving to join her for their final defense.
BH: Cavalry? What cavalry? Unless Artimas and Welby decide to reveal themselves, Quinn and Grick are very much alone! Jack's decision to run kind of broke the spirit of the remaining members.
The ironic thing is the vast majority of the assembled drow are actually just level 1 warriors with 4 hp each - if they hadn't been frightened by the sheer number of their opponents, the party may just have stood a fighting chance!
Still, all is not lost yet - let's proceed with the next update:
*****
Welby watched as the dark elves responded to the sound of the whistle, immediately going into a heightened state of readiness. One of the warriors called out to the sentries standing near the cliff edge and the halfling cursed silently as one of the drow disappeared over the side and the others moved to join the raiding party. The rogue was quickly losing any hope of being able to influence the outcome of this battle. He pressed closer to the wall and stared helplessly at the parade of warriors and undead until the last dark elf had passed him, then wriggled up the rope and followed a short distance behind the raiders. He would at least see what happened and would assist his friends if the opportunity presented itself. He was nearly as startled as the drow when the glowing dwarf suddenly appeared and zoomed by, chased by two howling dark elf wizards. They were moving far too quickly for Welby to follow, so he ignored them and continued following the warriors to the site of his companions’ camp.
*****
Jack zoomed over the heads of the startled drow and nearly made it past them untouched – only the last rank of warriors had time to raise their crossbows and fire shots before he zipped over their heads. He grimaced as a couple of bolts grazed him but kept going. As he rounded the corner a flying drow materialized in mid-air and raised its arms, throwing a crackling sheet of electricity into the dwarf. At the same time another drow wizard floated up from the ranks of the assembled warriors and buffeted the flying dwarf with icy winds and large chunks of ice. Jack ignored both attacks and plowed through the wizard in his path, keeping his boots activated and flying for the surface for all he was worth.
The pair of wizards took up pursuit, one of them leveling a crossbow and hitting Jack with a bolt before he rounded the corner, the other barely clipping him with another lightning bolt. Next the two downed potions of speed so that they could keep up with the dwarf and zoomed off down the hallway. Jack struggled to keep his eyes open as the levels of drow toxin built up in his bloodstream and continued his bruising flight, clipping the walls and ricocheting around corners as he remained at top speed. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with the silent figure standing in the middle of the hallway - Igor! Artimas had forgotten to collect his pet zombie after the last couple of battles and it remained where he’d left it, still following its last set of instructions.
The zombie ignored the dwarf and he prayed it would provide a split-second distraction so that he could increase his lead on his pursuers. The tunnel would be much straighter ahead and he wasn’t sure he’d survive another blast of lightning.
The first dark elf sped around the corner and pulled to a stop, regarding the figure before it. The man had obviously been dead for some time; worms wriggled in empty sockets, rotting flesh dripped from stiffened limbs, and many of the man’s body parts appeared to have been sewed into place. Still, the figure stood in the middle of the hallway, regarding the approaching wizard with its unseeing eyes. The second wizard caught up and stopped beside the first.
“Why have you stopped?” he hissed.
The first drow pointed at Igor. “It looks like he left a guard behind. I exhausted my spells on that elf earlier and, while I am confident that I can bring down a single, naked dwarf, I chose not to take any unnecessary risks with his undead servant.”
The second wizard sneered, pulled forth a wand, and released a burst of electricity at the zombie. Igor exploded messily as the current raced through his dead limbs. The mage put his wand away and turned back to the city, snickering, “Just wait until Susztam hears that you let one of them get away because you were frightened by a zombie. Let us return to the others before all of the fun is finished.”
“What of the dwarf?”
“Your hesitancy has cost us any chance of catching the dwarf. He is on the surface now and that is his domain, not ours. Besides, the coward is insignificant – he left his friends behind to die. He will not be returning.”
Jack, meanwhile, had reached the exit and sucked in the cool night air gratefully as he exited the confines of the Dorien crypts. He landed by the wagon and grabbed his riding gear, rushing to his war pony’s side and hastily buckling on the saddle, bit, and harness. When he was finished he pulled himself astride his trusty steed and kicked it into a trot, steering the pony toward the north and Travensburg. It appeared that the dark elf wizard’s assessment had been correct – as far as Jack was concerned, everyone else had perished, and he had no plan or desire to return to this foul place ever again. It was finally time for him to make good on his promise to the dwarf king and finish lifting the curse from Duernfast.
He rode throughout the night, steering far to the east of Lord Bryson’s house and the town of Bryan’s Stone. He continued riding well into the day before finally stopping to camp, until he and his pony were both in danger of collapsing from exhaustion. By this time he had left Bryson’s lands far behind, and if he could maintain his pace he’d be back in Travensburg before a fortnight passed. By this time some of his friends and companions would be dead, but Jack was alive and was not looking back.
*****
Welby stared in horror at the scene before him. A wall of stone blocked the chamber where his friends had set up camp, and four of the undead creatures they’d faced stood before the hewn granite, raining blow after blow of their acidic fists upon the barrier. Nearly two dozen dark elves stood watching this scene with expressions of bored amusement, chattering amongst themselves with a combination of the spoken word and flashed hand signals. While Welby understood none of their words the meaning was clear – these degenerates were enjoying themselves! He’d sent his shadow through the floor to see what was beyond the wall, and it reported to him that Quinn knelt in prayer just beyond the barricade while Grick was busy draining a small keg of whiskey and the elf slumbered peacefully nearby. There was no sign of Artimas, and he wondered what had become of the mage.
Unbeknownst to the halfling, the necromancer clung to the ceiling nearby, studying the action happening nearly directly below him. While the halfling’s thoughts were filled with fear for his friends, the wizard had other things on his mind as he examined the relentless work of the undead below him. So lovely, he thought, such a perfect creation of death. I must have one for study – I must learn the secrets of their creation!
Beyond the wall the scene was very much as Welby’s shadow had reported to him. Malobar was still under the effects of the sleep toxin and snored gently upon his bed of cobwebs and stone. Quinn prayed fervently for deliverance from this evil, although she did not hold out much hope for survival. Grick had decided that the final battle was upon him and was busy drinking all of the alcohol he’d carried into the underdark with him. The half-orc currently wore an expression only slightly less intelligent than that of the average cow, but Quinn still envied him his stupor. When the end came, Grick would feel no pain.
She rose to her feet then as the first cracks began to appear in the wall, hefting her mace and preparing herself for what might be her final battle. The wall began to shudder and chips began to fall loose under the continued blows of the undead; soon it would begin. “Grick!” she whispered meaningfully at her companion, and he shot her a bleary, stupid grin and abandoned the keg he’d been working on, moving to join her for their final defense.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Gotta love those Kobiashi Maru's!!
Sniktch
First Post
The raid concluded.
BH: Forgive my ignorance, but what is a Kobiashi Maru? Could you translate for me, please? I don't think I've ever seen that before.
Here it is, the conclusion of the raid. There are still a few posts to make before the end of the session; I'll keep posting them as fast as I get them written.
*****
At last the wall was breached, exploding inwards in a shower of fragments as the first undead stepped through. Grick roared an incoherent battlecry and lurched forward, then somersaulted into the enemies’ ranks with surprising agility and began weaving a tapestry of destruction with his twin butterfly swords. Quinn yelled, “For Dumathoin!” and joined her friend, hammering the foremost undead with repeated blows of her mace.
The dark elves hung back, content to let the undead handle the foolish surface dwellers. Only the white-haired priestess remained on edge, urging her subordinates to crush their foes, to bring about their defeat as quickly as possible. In response, two of her warriors waved their arms and used their innate talents to surround the dwarf and monk with glowing faerie fire, then two others stepped forward and cast stones towards the combat, stones that they had first enchanted with spells of darkness.
Quinn and Grick were plunged into a desperate battle in the darkness, clearly illuminated for their enemies but unable to see a thing in the inky blackness of the corridor. They were forced to start giving ground to their opponents but battled on valiantly, destroying the first two undead attackers before they had proceeded more than a couple of steps from the breached wall.
Velina T’sarran, the drow priestess, snarled as she felt the binding ties to two of her minions severed and added her own might to the battle, chanting a powerful incantation that brought a searing column of divine fire down upon her foes. She would finish the cursed heroes by herself if need be! She launched into another spell, and as she finished the complicated casting her body began to grow and contort, her cells ripping themselves apart as she was transformed into the shape of a large monstrosity, an aberration that still resembled her from the waist up but below that took on the appearance and characteristics of a giant spider. One more prayer and Velina became surrounded by a shimmering aura of fire, a protective ward that would reflect any damage she received back to the attacker who dared stand against her. Then the transformed priestess unsheathed her dagger, a wicked, curved weapon that dripped acid and venom, and plunged forward into the darkness.
Grick had taken a real beating from the undead attackers, but he was far too drunk to feel the pain of his injuries and chuckled cheerfully as he heard another of the beasts fall lifeless at his feet. Nearby Quinn battled the last of the creatures in a war of attrition that she was gradually winning. The monk turned to help her when he sensed a new opponent approach, something quite a bit larger than the undead they had faced so far. He raised his arms to ward off a blow and ignored the descending blade that cut deep into his bare flesh, then, having guessed the general location of his new opponent, he launched a furious series of swipes and jabs in its direction. He grunted in satisfaction as felt his swords strike home, then a backlash of fiery energy lifted him off his feet and hurled him unmoving to the cold stones below.
Quinn saw the glowing half-orc fall and yelled, “Grick, no!” She disengaged from her attacker and rushed to the half-orc’s side, using a minor spell of healing to stabilize him in case he still lived. She turned to her unseen attackers and threw her weapon down, shouting, “Enough! You’ve won; I surrender.”
The darkness in the hallway faded and she found herself faced with a grotesque and bloated drider. A pained expression clouded the drider’s face as it started to fold in upon itself and shrank down until once again it took the form of a female dark elf once more. Velina smiled wickedly at the submissive dwarf and replied, “Excellent! It has been so long since we’ve entertained guests – I do so look forward to making your acquaintance.”
*****
Artimas remained still in his hiding place as the drow exited the chamber. Behind them they dragged the still forms of Grick and Malobar, the monk gravely wounded if he even still lived and the elf still sleeping off the effects of the drow sleep poison, blissfully unaware of his current predicament. Quinn was still on her feet but had been shackled and was being pulled along by a pair of warriors. The mage cursed his inability to act, but it was better that someone remained to tell the story, to gather reinforcements and return to end the dark elves’ evil existence. The necromancer vowed revenge as he watched the last stragglers of the raiding party disappear from view, unaware that a smaller form slipped along stealthily behind them.
He waited a long time until he was certain that he was quite alone before descending the wall and examining the scene. These drow were certainly messy – most of their supplies had been left at the camp, Jack’s suit of platemail still lay where he had discarded it earlier that evening, and the bodies of the fallen undead still littered the entrance to the room. The wizard smiled when he made the last discovery and muttered a short string of bizarre syllables, conjuring a floating disk of force. Another spell rendered him immune to the acidic blood that still seeped from the vanquished undead and then the necromancer cheerfully loaded the disgusting cargo onto the disk and started to make his way toward the surface.
On the way he came across the scattered remains of Igor where he’d left him just a few hours before. He started to bypass the ruined corpse when an idea occurred to him. He stopped the floating disk long enough to pile the remains of his zombie on top and then started off again, now barely able to suppress the chortles of glee that threatened to shake his form. Oh yes, he’d give these drow a taste of their own medicine – when he returned he’d leave not a single enemy standing. They would taste his power and they would know fear.
He returned to the cart and noted the absence of Jack’s pony. This drew a snort of derision from the spellcaster; good riddance, he thought, he was glad to finally be free of that idiot. He carefully packed his grisly cargo into the storage tanks of embalming fluid he kept on the wagon and then went to one of the outer crypts, returning a short time later with four newly animated skeletons. He ordered them to guard the cart against all intruders and then issued silent commands to Nibbler and his lurking homunculus, ordering them to patrol the perimeter of the camp and warn him of any disturbances. Feeling slightly more secure, Artimas finally retired to his cart and fell into his nightly communion with Arawn, renewing his powers for another day.
*****
Welby tagged along with the dark elf force as it returned to Szith Morcane. He felt little hope of aiding his friends, but at least he would find out where they were held before searching for help to rescue them. He was not surprised to see the warriors head for the first cave entrance on the cliff face, although the white haired priestess took her leave from the raiders and traveled much further down the cliff before heading into a cave opening.
Welby followed close on the heels of the last pair of dark elf warriors. Just in case on of the sentries could see invisible beings he activated his hat of disguise, studying the warrior before him carefully and arranging his features to match as closely as possible. Then he was entering the cave, taking careful mental notes of the defenses he passed and the route back to safety.
‘Entrance, two guards,’ he mouthed silently before moving to the next room. ‘Eight more guards – one undead,’ he thought and hurried to catch up with the raiding party. Past the second guard post the hallway split, and most of the warriors turned north and headed for their quarters. A half a dozen warriors took the south branch and dragged the prisoners behind them, and Welby followed these to a narrow corridor containing many heavy padlocked doors.
The barbarian watched as the dark elves stripped his companions of all their possessions and threw them, nude, into the bare five-foot cells beyond three of the doors. Certain that he knew where his friends were being held, he withdrew, heading for the surface, hoping that he could find help and return in time to save the captured party members.
He went on alert again as he exited the crypts to the surface and approached the camp. Lights were burning inside the wagon and four skeletons stood guard around it; definitely not what he remembered. That could only mean one thing – Artimas had escaped and returned to the camp!
Excited, Welby crept past the undead and made his way under the cart, then knocked at the boards overhead, one rap, then two, then one again, so that Artimas would know he was waiting. He heard footsteps overhead, then a squeak as the wagon door opened, and then a querulous voice called into the night, “Welby?”
Welby rushed out from under the wagon and embraced the necromancer, burying his face in the soft folds of his robe as repeated sobs wracked his tiny frame. Artimas gently stroked the halfling’s bald head, repeating, “There, there. There, there. Nothing you could have done to effect the outcome, my dear Welby, so don’t blame yourself.”
The warrior soon recovered his composure and stepped back, nodding. Of course Artimas was right; if he’d interfered in the battle he would have simply joined the list of those killed or captured by the drow. He cleared his throat and explained why he’d taken so long returning to the wagon, “Follow drow. Friends alive, in prison. Know where. We rescue?”
Artimas shook his head coldly, “No, my friend, they are beyond our aid. Even if they still live, which I would find highly doubtful, we just do not have the manpower or resources to break them out. I’m afraid that the best we can do is to gather a new group of companions and return for vengeance.”
Welby pursed his lips and nodded. He didn’t like it but he did understand. Artimas was right again; if they attempted a rescue they would simply be throwing their lives away. But he would remember his friends, he vowed, he would remember them and think of them every time his blade struck home when they’d returned. There was something else he remembered, too.
“Art, maybe friend near,” he told the mage about his journey underground and the strange, spider-like woman he’d seen in the small cave outside of the city. “Me not talk – no good with talk. You talk, though, she listen to you.”
“Good thinking, Welby – you may have located our first recruit. I have an idea but I will need to borrow your ring. Take the cart and head back towards Lord Bryson’s manor; he should be informed of the results of our mission. From there we will return to Brian’s Stone. We should be able to find plenty of adventurers looking for work. I’m going to use your ring to fly down and speak with this ‘strange lady’ you describe; I’ll catch up with you as soon as I’m able.”
The halfling nodded again and handed Artimas his ring of the darkhidden. The wizard thanked him and murmured a spell of flight, then disappeared back into the crypts, pausing only to order his skeletons into an empty closet aboard the wagon. Welby then secured the horses and set off, blinking to hold back the tears that still threatened to drown him.
BH: Forgive my ignorance, but what is a Kobiashi Maru? Could you translate for me, please? I don't think I've ever seen that before.
Here it is, the conclusion of the raid. There are still a few posts to make before the end of the session; I'll keep posting them as fast as I get them written.
*****
At last the wall was breached, exploding inwards in a shower of fragments as the first undead stepped through. Grick roared an incoherent battlecry and lurched forward, then somersaulted into the enemies’ ranks with surprising agility and began weaving a tapestry of destruction with his twin butterfly swords. Quinn yelled, “For Dumathoin!” and joined her friend, hammering the foremost undead with repeated blows of her mace.
The dark elves hung back, content to let the undead handle the foolish surface dwellers. Only the white-haired priestess remained on edge, urging her subordinates to crush their foes, to bring about their defeat as quickly as possible. In response, two of her warriors waved their arms and used their innate talents to surround the dwarf and monk with glowing faerie fire, then two others stepped forward and cast stones towards the combat, stones that they had first enchanted with spells of darkness.
Quinn and Grick were plunged into a desperate battle in the darkness, clearly illuminated for their enemies but unable to see a thing in the inky blackness of the corridor. They were forced to start giving ground to their opponents but battled on valiantly, destroying the first two undead attackers before they had proceeded more than a couple of steps from the breached wall.
Velina T’sarran, the drow priestess, snarled as she felt the binding ties to two of her minions severed and added her own might to the battle, chanting a powerful incantation that brought a searing column of divine fire down upon her foes. She would finish the cursed heroes by herself if need be! She launched into another spell, and as she finished the complicated casting her body began to grow and contort, her cells ripping themselves apart as she was transformed into the shape of a large monstrosity, an aberration that still resembled her from the waist up but below that took on the appearance and characteristics of a giant spider. One more prayer and Velina became surrounded by a shimmering aura of fire, a protective ward that would reflect any damage she received back to the attacker who dared stand against her. Then the transformed priestess unsheathed her dagger, a wicked, curved weapon that dripped acid and venom, and plunged forward into the darkness.
Grick had taken a real beating from the undead attackers, but he was far too drunk to feel the pain of his injuries and chuckled cheerfully as he heard another of the beasts fall lifeless at his feet. Nearby Quinn battled the last of the creatures in a war of attrition that she was gradually winning. The monk turned to help her when he sensed a new opponent approach, something quite a bit larger than the undead they had faced so far. He raised his arms to ward off a blow and ignored the descending blade that cut deep into his bare flesh, then, having guessed the general location of his new opponent, he launched a furious series of swipes and jabs in its direction. He grunted in satisfaction as felt his swords strike home, then a backlash of fiery energy lifted him off his feet and hurled him unmoving to the cold stones below.
Quinn saw the glowing half-orc fall and yelled, “Grick, no!” She disengaged from her attacker and rushed to the half-orc’s side, using a minor spell of healing to stabilize him in case he still lived. She turned to her unseen attackers and threw her weapon down, shouting, “Enough! You’ve won; I surrender.”
The darkness in the hallway faded and she found herself faced with a grotesque and bloated drider. A pained expression clouded the drider’s face as it started to fold in upon itself and shrank down until once again it took the form of a female dark elf once more. Velina smiled wickedly at the submissive dwarf and replied, “Excellent! It has been so long since we’ve entertained guests – I do so look forward to making your acquaintance.”
*****
Artimas remained still in his hiding place as the drow exited the chamber. Behind them they dragged the still forms of Grick and Malobar, the monk gravely wounded if he even still lived and the elf still sleeping off the effects of the drow sleep poison, blissfully unaware of his current predicament. Quinn was still on her feet but had been shackled and was being pulled along by a pair of warriors. The mage cursed his inability to act, but it was better that someone remained to tell the story, to gather reinforcements and return to end the dark elves’ evil existence. The necromancer vowed revenge as he watched the last stragglers of the raiding party disappear from view, unaware that a smaller form slipped along stealthily behind them.
He waited a long time until he was certain that he was quite alone before descending the wall and examining the scene. These drow were certainly messy – most of their supplies had been left at the camp, Jack’s suit of platemail still lay where he had discarded it earlier that evening, and the bodies of the fallen undead still littered the entrance to the room. The wizard smiled when he made the last discovery and muttered a short string of bizarre syllables, conjuring a floating disk of force. Another spell rendered him immune to the acidic blood that still seeped from the vanquished undead and then the necromancer cheerfully loaded the disgusting cargo onto the disk and started to make his way toward the surface.
On the way he came across the scattered remains of Igor where he’d left him just a few hours before. He started to bypass the ruined corpse when an idea occurred to him. He stopped the floating disk long enough to pile the remains of his zombie on top and then started off again, now barely able to suppress the chortles of glee that threatened to shake his form. Oh yes, he’d give these drow a taste of their own medicine – when he returned he’d leave not a single enemy standing. They would taste his power and they would know fear.
He returned to the cart and noted the absence of Jack’s pony. This drew a snort of derision from the spellcaster; good riddance, he thought, he was glad to finally be free of that idiot. He carefully packed his grisly cargo into the storage tanks of embalming fluid he kept on the wagon and then went to one of the outer crypts, returning a short time later with four newly animated skeletons. He ordered them to guard the cart against all intruders and then issued silent commands to Nibbler and his lurking homunculus, ordering them to patrol the perimeter of the camp and warn him of any disturbances. Feeling slightly more secure, Artimas finally retired to his cart and fell into his nightly communion with Arawn, renewing his powers for another day.
*****
Welby tagged along with the dark elf force as it returned to Szith Morcane. He felt little hope of aiding his friends, but at least he would find out where they were held before searching for help to rescue them. He was not surprised to see the warriors head for the first cave entrance on the cliff face, although the white haired priestess took her leave from the raiders and traveled much further down the cliff before heading into a cave opening.
Welby followed close on the heels of the last pair of dark elf warriors. Just in case on of the sentries could see invisible beings he activated his hat of disguise, studying the warrior before him carefully and arranging his features to match as closely as possible. Then he was entering the cave, taking careful mental notes of the defenses he passed and the route back to safety.
‘Entrance, two guards,’ he mouthed silently before moving to the next room. ‘Eight more guards – one undead,’ he thought and hurried to catch up with the raiding party. Past the second guard post the hallway split, and most of the warriors turned north and headed for their quarters. A half a dozen warriors took the south branch and dragged the prisoners behind them, and Welby followed these to a narrow corridor containing many heavy padlocked doors.
The barbarian watched as the dark elves stripped his companions of all their possessions and threw them, nude, into the bare five-foot cells beyond three of the doors. Certain that he knew where his friends were being held, he withdrew, heading for the surface, hoping that he could find help and return in time to save the captured party members.
He went on alert again as he exited the crypts to the surface and approached the camp. Lights were burning inside the wagon and four skeletons stood guard around it; definitely not what he remembered. That could only mean one thing – Artimas had escaped and returned to the camp!
Excited, Welby crept past the undead and made his way under the cart, then knocked at the boards overhead, one rap, then two, then one again, so that Artimas would know he was waiting. He heard footsteps overhead, then a squeak as the wagon door opened, and then a querulous voice called into the night, “Welby?”
Welby rushed out from under the wagon and embraced the necromancer, burying his face in the soft folds of his robe as repeated sobs wracked his tiny frame. Artimas gently stroked the halfling’s bald head, repeating, “There, there. There, there. Nothing you could have done to effect the outcome, my dear Welby, so don’t blame yourself.”
The warrior soon recovered his composure and stepped back, nodding. Of course Artimas was right; if he’d interfered in the battle he would have simply joined the list of those killed or captured by the drow. He cleared his throat and explained why he’d taken so long returning to the wagon, “Follow drow. Friends alive, in prison. Know where. We rescue?”
Artimas shook his head coldly, “No, my friend, they are beyond our aid. Even if they still live, which I would find highly doubtful, we just do not have the manpower or resources to break them out. I’m afraid that the best we can do is to gather a new group of companions and return for vengeance.”
Welby pursed his lips and nodded. He didn’t like it but he did understand. Artimas was right again; if they attempted a rescue they would simply be throwing their lives away. But he would remember his friends, he vowed, he would remember them and think of them every time his blade struck home when they’d returned. There was something else he remembered, too.
“Art, maybe friend near,” he told the mage about his journey underground and the strange, spider-like woman he’d seen in the small cave outside of the city. “Me not talk – no good with talk. You talk, though, she listen to you.”
“Good thinking, Welby – you may have located our first recruit. I have an idea but I will need to borrow your ring. Take the cart and head back towards Lord Bryson’s manor; he should be informed of the results of our mission. From there we will return to Brian’s Stone. We should be able to find plenty of adventurers looking for work. I’m going to use your ring to fly down and speak with this ‘strange lady’ you describe; I’ll catch up with you as soon as I’m able.”
The halfling nodded again and handed Artimas his ring of the darkhidden. The wizard thanked him and murmured a spell of flight, then disappeared back into the crypts, pausing only to order his skeletons into an empty closet aboard the wagon. Welby then secured the horses and set off, blinking to hold back the tears that still threatened to drown him.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Kobiashi Maru is a reference to Star Trek. At the academy, the trainees would undergo a scenario where they were supposed to rescue a ship of the same name. Romulans would come and blast them. It was an unwinnable situation. Hence the name KM means an unwinnable situation.
Of note, one person defeated the scenario. Captain James T Kirk. Of course, he cheated to make the scenario winnable.
Of note, one person defeated the scenario. Captain James T Kirk. Of course, he cheated to make the scenario winnable.
Sniktch
First Post
Aha! It is all so clear to me now!
Thanks for the clarification, BH. Yeah, I was afraid I was exposing my ignorance, and I was right, you've found me out. I am not a Trekkie, and don't know much about that series beyond a few old episodes and what I've seen in the various movies.
Yeah, it was close to an unwinnable situation. As I've noted, most of the opposition were really not very difficult to overcome, although whether the group could have won a knock-down brawl if they all participated is still doubtful. The combination of Velina T'Sarran, two drow wizards, and the four undead packed a potent punch. Still, it was a situation they created with a string of bad decisions, and I expect a much better prepared party the next time they enter the underdark. Like I said, I almost feel sorry for the dark elves now.
EDIT: Coming soon: The formation of a new team, the fate of the prisoners, and Artimas' plans revealed!
Thanks for the clarification, BH. Yeah, I was afraid I was exposing my ignorance, and I was right, you've found me out. I am not a Trekkie, and don't know much about that series beyond a few old episodes and what I've seen in the various movies.
Yeah, it was close to an unwinnable situation. As I've noted, most of the opposition were really not very difficult to overcome, although whether the group could have won a knock-down brawl if they all participated is still doubtful. The combination of Velina T'Sarran, two drow wizards, and the four undead packed a potent punch. Still, it was a situation they created with a string of bad decisions, and I expect a much better prepared party the next time they enter the underdark. Like I said, I almost feel sorry for the dark elves now.
EDIT: Coming soon: The formation of a new team, the fate of the prisoners, and Artimas' plans revealed!
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Sniktch
First Post
New Blood, pt 1
Donalbain: Thanks for the praise! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.
Well, a few of them will be using new characters. I don't believe Welby and Artimas have any plans of leaving just yet. Still, we will probably not be seeing Jack, Malobar, Grick, or Quinn again any time soon, so its almost a new lineup.
This place is a meat grinder, Donalbain, I hope your group fares better than mine and Ziona's have so far. Anyway, meet the first new recruit in New Blood, part 1 below:
*****
Artimas placed the ring upon his finger as he reentered the Dorien Crypts, then swooped downward until he had reached the chute leading to the first Szith Morcane guard post. He slowly hovered down the sharply sloping tunnel and carefully floated over the sentries’ heads, moving very slowly to avoid even the slightest rustle that could betray his presence. The drow continued to carry on a casual conversation, neither they nor their undead showing any sign of noticing the silent mage pass overhead.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he moved out over the chasm, once again marveling at the breathtaking view of the enormous web and its flickering, multi-colored highlights. Currently, a large amount of traffic traversed the thick threads connecting the different levels of the dark elf settlement; it appeared that the drow were still on full alert, convincing Artimas even further of the futility of attempting to free their captured companions.
He started flying deliberately in the direction Welby had indicated he would find the crevice, carefully scanning the walls for any sign of the opening in the cliff face. Finally he spotted the dark crack and entered it, finding exactly the scene the halfling described: a small chamber that sloped abruptly downward about halfway in, creating a kind of miniature cliff within the room. At the base of the cliff sat a bedroll and backpack, neatly packed and rolled.
“I have come to talk,” he breathed into the dark room. “Show yourself.”
“Who are you?” The raspy hiss sounded directly behind him and the wizard nearly jumped out of his skin before realizing that he should be as invisible to the strange occupant of the chamber as she currently was to him. “You ask us to show ourself when you are just a voice from the air. Well, we hear the voices and they say you are a THIEF!
“Yes, we asks it what it is, mistress, the nasty voices that intrudes upon our solitude. We will see what it says,” the voice continued muttering quietly, as if in answer to itself.
Artimas moved away from the frightening whispers and considered his course of action carefully. She might turn out to be a valuable ally but right now he was convinced that she was as crazy as a loon. “I am an enemy of the Pale Lady,” he replied at length. “I am an ally of the Spider Kisser Tierak Morcane and I am seeking help in defeating the forces of Kiaransalee currently in control of Szith Morcane.”
His speech had a startling effect. The frightening being Welby had described to him seemed to materialize from thin air and hung suspended off the ground, her crazy insect eyes staring all around. The creature wailed and thrashed about for a moment as if in pain, then turned toward the sound of his voice and ranted, “Yes, the Pale Lady! She has silenced the mistress’s voices – we hear the voices and we listen, the voices all gone now but still we listen. It is their fault, wicked servants of the Pale One, all their fault! We will maim them, gnash them, destroy!
She seemed to calm somewhat, cocking her head at an odd angle as if listening before speaking again. “Come out, ally of the Spider Kisser, come out to parlay if you are not a liar and a thief. Larala will be nice if friend you be, yes, nice to friend. She will share with you what the voices tell us, yes, and then the Spider Kissers will have revenge for their mistress.”
Artimas hesitated, swallowing hard. He really did not wish to expose himself to this psychotic woman, but it seemed the only way to win her aid. Finally the mage landed a short distance before her and pulled the enchanted ring from his finger, palming it and remaining tense and ready to spring into action.
She gasped as the figure suddenly manifested before her and then peered at him curiously. “Mistress, it is not drow, it is human,” she muttered, then moved very close to the wizard and studied him closely. “Who are you and who sent you?”
“I am Artimas Sendant, and I follow the surface god Arawn. He sent me here because Kiaransalee trespasses on his demesne by ordering these repeated attacks on the surface lands and he wishes to see them cease. My companions were all killed or captured in our first assault on the city and now I need aid to accomplish my goals.”
“How did you find us here?”
“One came before me and informed me of your presence. He believed that you may be a valuable ally in our war against the White Lady’s forces and sent me to ask for your aid.”
“We must discuss it,” she hissed and then melted back into the shadows. Artimas heard her voice echoing from the walls as she furiously whispered in a strange tongue. Although he could not understand the language she spoke, he would guess that she was debating or arguing with herself. At length she appeared before him again and informed him of her decision. “We will aid, and we will tell you the message we received. We must strike at the heart of the enemy; we must raid the temple of Kiaransalee. We will spread glorious death and the temple will fall!”
“Yes, quite, I’m sure. I thank you for your aid, Larala. Now I must ask you to await me here while I gather more reinforcements for our purpose. I will return to you and let you know when the time has arrived to strike.”
“Hurry, human, hurry back to us. Larala is thirsty for the blood of our enemies. We will wait for you.”
Artimas bowed and bid the twisted half-drow farewell, then replaced Welby’s ring upon his finger and flew out of the crevice. He smiled as he passed over the heads of the drow guards on his way back to the surface; he could see the pieces of a new puzzle falling into place. When he returned, it would be the dark elves who learned the meaning of fear and death, and he would not rest until all of the followers of Kiaransalee were dust.
Next: New Blood, part 2, or 'More Conversations with the Drow'
Donalbain: Thanks for the praise! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.
Well, a few of them will be using new characters. I don't believe Welby and Artimas have any plans of leaving just yet. Still, we will probably not be seeing Jack, Malobar, Grick, or Quinn again any time soon, so its almost a new lineup.
This place is a meat grinder, Donalbain, I hope your group fares better than mine and Ziona's have so far. Anyway, meet the first new recruit in New Blood, part 1 below:
*****
Artimas placed the ring upon his finger as he reentered the Dorien Crypts, then swooped downward until he had reached the chute leading to the first Szith Morcane guard post. He slowly hovered down the sharply sloping tunnel and carefully floated over the sentries’ heads, moving very slowly to avoid even the slightest rustle that could betray his presence. The drow continued to carry on a casual conversation, neither they nor their undead showing any sign of noticing the silent mage pass overhead.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he moved out over the chasm, once again marveling at the breathtaking view of the enormous web and its flickering, multi-colored highlights. Currently, a large amount of traffic traversed the thick threads connecting the different levels of the dark elf settlement; it appeared that the drow were still on full alert, convincing Artimas even further of the futility of attempting to free their captured companions.
He started flying deliberately in the direction Welby had indicated he would find the crevice, carefully scanning the walls for any sign of the opening in the cliff face. Finally he spotted the dark crack and entered it, finding exactly the scene the halfling described: a small chamber that sloped abruptly downward about halfway in, creating a kind of miniature cliff within the room. At the base of the cliff sat a bedroll and backpack, neatly packed and rolled.
“I have come to talk,” he breathed into the dark room. “Show yourself.”
“Who are you?” The raspy hiss sounded directly behind him and the wizard nearly jumped out of his skin before realizing that he should be as invisible to the strange occupant of the chamber as she currently was to him. “You ask us to show ourself when you are just a voice from the air. Well, we hear the voices and they say you are a THIEF!
“Yes, we asks it what it is, mistress, the nasty voices that intrudes upon our solitude. We will see what it says,” the voice continued muttering quietly, as if in answer to itself.
Artimas moved away from the frightening whispers and considered his course of action carefully. She might turn out to be a valuable ally but right now he was convinced that she was as crazy as a loon. “I am an enemy of the Pale Lady,” he replied at length. “I am an ally of the Spider Kisser Tierak Morcane and I am seeking help in defeating the forces of Kiaransalee currently in control of Szith Morcane.”
His speech had a startling effect. The frightening being Welby had described to him seemed to materialize from thin air and hung suspended off the ground, her crazy insect eyes staring all around. The creature wailed and thrashed about for a moment as if in pain, then turned toward the sound of his voice and ranted, “Yes, the Pale Lady! She has silenced the mistress’s voices – we hear the voices and we listen, the voices all gone now but still we listen. It is their fault, wicked servants of the Pale One, all their fault! We will maim them, gnash them, destroy!
She seemed to calm somewhat, cocking her head at an odd angle as if listening before speaking again. “Come out, ally of the Spider Kisser, come out to parlay if you are not a liar and a thief. Larala will be nice if friend you be, yes, nice to friend. She will share with you what the voices tell us, yes, and then the Spider Kissers will have revenge for their mistress.”
Artimas hesitated, swallowing hard. He really did not wish to expose himself to this psychotic woman, but it seemed the only way to win her aid. Finally the mage landed a short distance before her and pulled the enchanted ring from his finger, palming it and remaining tense and ready to spring into action.
She gasped as the figure suddenly manifested before her and then peered at him curiously. “Mistress, it is not drow, it is human,” she muttered, then moved very close to the wizard and studied him closely. “Who are you and who sent you?”
“I am Artimas Sendant, and I follow the surface god Arawn. He sent me here because Kiaransalee trespasses on his demesne by ordering these repeated attacks on the surface lands and he wishes to see them cease. My companions were all killed or captured in our first assault on the city and now I need aid to accomplish my goals.”
“How did you find us here?”
“One came before me and informed me of your presence. He believed that you may be a valuable ally in our war against the White Lady’s forces and sent me to ask for your aid.”
“We must discuss it,” she hissed and then melted back into the shadows. Artimas heard her voice echoing from the walls as she furiously whispered in a strange tongue. Although he could not understand the language she spoke, he would guess that she was debating or arguing with herself. At length she appeared before him again and informed him of her decision. “We will aid, and we will tell you the message we received. We must strike at the heart of the enemy; we must raid the temple of Kiaransalee. We will spread glorious death and the temple will fall!”
“Yes, quite, I’m sure. I thank you for your aid, Larala. Now I must ask you to await me here while I gather more reinforcements for our purpose. I will return to you and let you know when the time has arrived to strike.”
“Hurry, human, hurry back to us. Larala is thirsty for the blood of our enemies. We will wait for you.”
Artimas bowed and bid the twisted half-drow farewell, then replaced Welby’s ring upon his finger and flew out of the crevice. He smiled as he passed over the heads of the drow guards on his way back to the surface; he could see the pieces of a new puzzle falling into place. When he returned, it would be the dark elves who learned the meaning of fear and death, and he would not rest until all of the followers of Kiaransalee were dust.
Next: New Blood, part 2, or 'More Conversations with the Drow'
Broccli_Head
Explorer
I like seeing Artimas with a purpose!
Great job of making Larala a memorable NPC!
Can't wait for more!
Great job of making Larala a memorable NPC!
Can't wait for more!
Capellan
Explorer
Re: New Blood, pt 1
I'll have to keep that in mind for when I finally run it. Which will be a long time from now, of course. Have to finish the CotRE first, for one thing
I was thinking of transplanting it to the Iron Kingdoms, and running it after Monte Cook's Banewarrens. I think I can tie the two together quite nicely, and the level seque of the two modules is (at least on paper) pretty much exact.
Plus I like the mental image of technology-using surface dwellers against magic-wielding drow. Should be fun
Sniktch said:
I'll have to keep that in mind for when I finally run it. Which will be a long time from now, of course. Have to finish the CotRE first, for one thing
I was thinking of transplanting it to the Iron Kingdoms, and running it after Monte Cook's Banewarrens. I think I can tie the two together quite nicely, and the level seque of the two modules is (at least on paper) pretty much exact.
Plus I like the mental image of technology-using surface dwellers against magic-wielding drow. Should be fun
