Broccli_Head
Explorer
There goes Jack again! Getting himself into trouble....
Gotta love the axe-wielding, battle hymn singing dwarf!
Gotta love the axe-wielding, battle hymn singing dwarf!
Sniktch's Story Hour Prelude - From the Beginning (UPDATED 04/22)
We did discover that his hardheadedness is useful on occasion, though, like when we need to open a barred door.
Sniktch
First Post
The Cave
The crossbow bolts raced through the air towards Jack, but he was not caught completely off guard. He raised his shield and felt the bolts impact as Eli’s voice sang out in a melodic chant of arcane syllables. He recognized the spell of sleep as Eli ended the cadence, and then he heard several distinct thuds from the cave mouth. He hurried forward into the cave.
The rest of the companions rushed towards the dark opening as Jack disappeared inside, and arrived to find him dispatching the last of four sleeping orcs. He looked up and grinned as they entered. “Nice timing, Eli,” he said, “this coulda been a tough fight.”
Ike knelt to examine the corpses. “They must have all just been paid - all their pouches are filled with silver.” This statement was followed by a small cheer.
The cave itself was rough hewn and held nothing of interest save the sentries’ bodies. However, a well-worn track lead to the back of the cave, where the walls gave way to a carved stone corridor that ended in a stout oak door. Ike crept down the tunnel and began examining the door, with Welby following right behind him. The others waited in the cave, Jack with readied axe and Eli and Crow carrying their bows.
Ike found the door to be unlocked. He reached into one of his pockets and extracted a small cone of metal. Placing one end against the door and the smaller portion to his ear, he listened intently for several moments. He could hear faint noises from the other side - someone pacing maybe, a short exclamation in the guttural tongue of his orcish ancestors. He looked back at Welby and nodded. “Several guards past this door,” he whispered. “It doesn’t sound like they know we’re here.”
They sneaked back to the cave to discuss the situation with the others. It was decided that Jack and Welby would lead the assault on the room and the rest would cover them with missile fire.
On the count of three, Welby pushed the door open and went into a diving roll across the floor. Jack followed him into the room and immediately stepped towards the side of the chamber. A volley of arrows from the others passed him by, and one surprised orc sentry got struck in the shoulder and throat, collapsing in a quickly spreading pool of blood. The room was filled with clutter, lined with boxes and barrels and tables covered with various tools and supplies. The five surviving orcs in the chamber overcame their surprise and moved into action. Two picked axes off the floor and charged toward Welby and Jack, while the other three grabbed crossbows and upended a table, taking shelter behind it.
Ike cursed under his breath. The advantage of surprise had evaporated quickly, and only one of the guards had been accounted for. Now Jack and Welby seemed locked in stalemate with their opponents, none of the combatants able to deal a telling blow, and the other orcs were too well sheltered behind the table to be hit. He traded his crossbow for his mace and sprinted forward, weaving and tumbling to avoid the arrows flying back and forth. Avoiding the melee, he ran straight towards the three archers. As he approached the table he dove, feeling a stinging hit in his hip as he did so. He rolled to a stop on the opposite side of the table, reached up and grabbed the edge, and pulled it down on top of himself..
The orc archers suddenly found themselves bereft of cover, and two of the three were immediately hit and killed by Eli and the Crow. Meanwhile, Jack and Welby had finally dispatched their opponents, and the final orc lost his heart for the battle. It sprinted towards an exit leading further into the cavern complex screaming for help but did not get far. Jack dropped his axe and pulled a light hammer from his belt, flipping it end over end towards the fleeing orc. The heavy mallet struck the orc in the back of its skull and it dropped with a sickening popping sound. Jack strolled over and retrieved the weapon, then moved to Ike and bent to examine his wound.
A crossbow bolt protruded from the half-orc’s hip and he looked up in obvious pain, eyes glazed over and teeth clenched. Jack shook his head with new-found respect, “Ike, I canna decide if that were the bravest or the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, I’ve nearly exhausted my healing prayers fer the day, but I c’n take some o the sting away.”
Jack suddenly glanced off to the side, “What was that?” Ike looked away, distracted, and Jack grabbed the bolt and pulled it forth. A scream bubbled from the half-orc’s lips, but before Ike had finished Jack had sealed the wound with a minor prayer and was applying a poultice to the wound. He checked to make sure it was firmly in place before offering his hand and helping Ike back to his feet.
While Jack tended to Ike, the Crow took up watch in the exit and Eli rummaged through the room, making a catalogue of all the tools, supplies, and weapons he found. The orcs and their masters obviously had some sort of mining operation going on, and he found many picks, chisels, and hammers, a large supply of rope and lantern fuel, and a crate of crossbow ammunition. He also understood the monsters’ motive for the raid on the supply wagon; he found precious little food in the crates, and many of the containers were empty.
Welby was trying to take his mind off of his stomach. He had risen before sunrise and raided a small building he’d discovered in the village that was just filled with fat, slow-moving chickens. That had been good for a small feast; he’d had two birds and half a dozen eggs. Then he’d breakfasted with the others when they woke, consuming a stack of delicious pancakes, but he had not eaten since. He ached from his wounds and he was tired of walking, and he was hungry. How the others could go three hours without showing any sign of hunger was beyond him. Was that movement in the corner?
Welby jumped to his feet, shortbow in hand, and fired at the corner of the room, before dropping the bow and diving into the shadowy recess. Eli saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and shouted in alarm, bringing the rest of the group running. Welby emerged sheepishly from behind the crates and barrels. In his hand he held an arrow, which had neatly skewered a rat. “Hungry,” he explained, and then to everyone’s collective horror he took a bite out of the rat.
Even Jack turned a shade paler. “Ahem. Uhh, we should keep movin. Might be more orcs about.” He spun on his heels and marched out of the room. Eli, Royston, and Ike were close behind him, but Welby took his time. The others had a good lead by the time he entered the hallway, licking his fingers and making satisfied little smacking sounds.
The crossbow bolts raced through the air towards Jack, but he was not caught completely off guard. He raised his shield and felt the bolts impact as Eli’s voice sang out in a melodic chant of arcane syllables. He recognized the spell of sleep as Eli ended the cadence, and then he heard several distinct thuds from the cave mouth. He hurried forward into the cave.
The rest of the companions rushed towards the dark opening as Jack disappeared inside, and arrived to find him dispatching the last of four sleeping orcs. He looked up and grinned as they entered. “Nice timing, Eli,” he said, “this coulda been a tough fight.”
Ike knelt to examine the corpses. “They must have all just been paid - all their pouches are filled with silver.” This statement was followed by a small cheer.
The cave itself was rough hewn and held nothing of interest save the sentries’ bodies. However, a well-worn track lead to the back of the cave, where the walls gave way to a carved stone corridor that ended in a stout oak door. Ike crept down the tunnel and began examining the door, with Welby following right behind him. The others waited in the cave, Jack with readied axe and Eli and Crow carrying their bows.
Ike found the door to be unlocked. He reached into one of his pockets and extracted a small cone of metal. Placing one end against the door and the smaller portion to his ear, he listened intently for several moments. He could hear faint noises from the other side - someone pacing maybe, a short exclamation in the guttural tongue of his orcish ancestors. He looked back at Welby and nodded. “Several guards past this door,” he whispered. “It doesn’t sound like they know we’re here.”
They sneaked back to the cave to discuss the situation with the others. It was decided that Jack and Welby would lead the assault on the room and the rest would cover them with missile fire.
On the count of three, Welby pushed the door open and went into a diving roll across the floor. Jack followed him into the room and immediately stepped towards the side of the chamber. A volley of arrows from the others passed him by, and one surprised orc sentry got struck in the shoulder and throat, collapsing in a quickly spreading pool of blood. The room was filled with clutter, lined with boxes and barrels and tables covered with various tools and supplies. The five surviving orcs in the chamber overcame their surprise and moved into action. Two picked axes off the floor and charged toward Welby and Jack, while the other three grabbed crossbows and upended a table, taking shelter behind it.
Ike cursed under his breath. The advantage of surprise had evaporated quickly, and only one of the guards had been accounted for. Now Jack and Welby seemed locked in stalemate with their opponents, none of the combatants able to deal a telling blow, and the other orcs were too well sheltered behind the table to be hit. He traded his crossbow for his mace and sprinted forward, weaving and tumbling to avoid the arrows flying back and forth. Avoiding the melee, he ran straight towards the three archers. As he approached the table he dove, feeling a stinging hit in his hip as he did so. He rolled to a stop on the opposite side of the table, reached up and grabbed the edge, and pulled it down on top of himself..
The orc archers suddenly found themselves bereft of cover, and two of the three were immediately hit and killed by Eli and the Crow. Meanwhile, Jack and Welby had finally dispatched their opponents, and the final orc lost his heart for the battle. It sprinted towards an exit leading further into the cavern complex screaming for help but did not get far. Jack dropped his axe and pulled a light hammer from his belt, flipping it end over end towards the fleeing orc. The heavy mallet struck the orc in the back of its skull and it dropped with a sickening popping sound. Jack strolled over and retrieved the weapon, then moved to Ike and bent to examine his wound.
A crossbow bolt protruded from the half-orc’s hip and he looked up in obvious pain, eyes glazed over and teeth clenched. Jack shook his head with new-found respect, “Ike, I canna decide if that were the bravest or the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, I’ve nearly exhausted my healing prayers fer the day, but I c’n take some o the sting away.”
Jack suddenly glanced off to the side, “What was that?” Ike looked away, distracted, and Jack grabbed the bolt and pulled it forth. A scream bubbled from the half-orc’s lips, but before Ike had finished Jack had sealed the wound with a minor prayer and was applying a poultice to the wound. He checked to make sure it was firmly in place before offering his hand and helping Ike back to his feet.
While Jack tended to Ike, the Crow took up watch in the exit and Eli rummaged through the room, making a catalogue of all the tools, supplies, and weapons he found. The orcs and their masters obviously had some sort of mining operation going on, and he found many picks, chisels, and hammers, a large supply of rope and lantern fuel, and a crate of crossbow ammunition. He also understood the monsters’ motive for the raid on the supply wagon; he found precious little food in the crates, and many of the containers were empty.
Welby was trying to take his mind off of his stomach. He had risen before sunrise and raided a small building he’d discovered in the village that was just filled with fat, slow-moving chickens. That had been good for a small feast; he’d had two birds and half a dozen eggs. Then he’d breakfasted with the others when they woke, consuming a stack of delicious pancakes, but he had not eaten since. He ached from his wounds and he was tired of walking, and he was hungry. How the others could go three hours without showing any sign of hunger was beyond him. Was that movement in the corner?
Welby jumped to his feet, shortbow in hand, and fired at the corner of the room, before dropping the bow and diving into the shadowy recess. Eli saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and shouted in alarm, bringing the rest of the group running. Welby emerged sheepishly from behind the crates and barrels. In his hand he held an arrow, which had neatly skewered a rat. “Hungry,” he explained, and then to everyone’s collective horror he took a bite out of the rat.
Even Jack turned a shade paler. “Ahem. Uhh, we should keep movin. Might be more orcs about.” He spun on his heels and marched out of the room. Eli, Royston, and Ike were close behind him, but Welby took his time. The others had a good lead by the time he entered the hallway, licking his fingers and making satisfied little smacking sounds.
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Sniktch
First Post
Unearthing the Past
Thanks, Capellan. If you want another example of the adventure in play check out RatPunk's thread, as I believe his group also starts out in Travensburg.
I found it to be an excellent short piece to launch the campaign, and very convenient since I didn't have much time to cook up my own opener. As you'll see coming up, I expand upon it quite a lot once they complete the published portion.
Thanks, Capellan. If you want another example of the adventure in play check out RatPunk's thread, as I believe his group also starts out in Travensburg.
I found it to be an excellent short piece to launch the campaign, and very convenient since I didn't have much time to cook up my own opener. As you'll see coming up, I expand upon it quite a lot once they complete the published portion.
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Sniktch
First Post
The story continues...
They halted thirty feet down the hallway at a four way intersection. Directly ahead of them the passage was blocked by another stout door, barred shut on their side. The right tunnel had collapsed long ago and was choked with rubble, and the left continued past the range of their vision. Jack regarded the closed door.
“Reckon we should take a look inside?”
Welby shook his head. “Door shut for reason,” he managed around a mouthful of rodent.
Jack started to argue but the Crow interrupted him. “The little guy’s got a point. They might be trying to keep something in there.”
Jack persisted, “I don’ like leavin rooms behind me unexplored. Might be leavin an enemy at our backs; might be leavin some poor prisoner in chains unaided.”
“You have a valid argument,” Eli spoke next. “However, I’m inclined to side with the others at this time. We can be reasonably certain that no threat is going to come at us from this direction, and the distinct possibility exists that the orcs were trying to keep something out. Let us secure the rest of the complex; we can always return and examine this passage again when the orcs and their masters have been dealt with.”
Outnumbered, Jack was forced to agree. They started down the left-passageway and moved forward about twenty feet before Ike called for a halt. When they quit moving everyone could hear it, the sound of metal rattling against metal. The sound seemed to emanate from just around a bend in the corridor. Cautiously, they moved up to the corner and peered around it. Here the tunnel ended, opening into a large square room contaning a large hole in the center of it’s floor. An ingenious tangle of pulleys, catches, and gears hung suspended from the ceiling, all slowly spinning in place. This had the result of pulling at a chain that rose from the hole, gradually winding it around a straight bar.
Welby moved up to the lip of the opening and looked down, then jumped back and readied his axe. “More orcs,” he warned. “Coming up in metal box.”
Ike dropped to his belly and readied his crossbow, aiming it towards the hole. The Crow moved around to the other side of the chamber, also readying his crossbow. Jack, Welby, and Eli followed suit, readying their bows and slowly fanning out around the room.
Ike saw the orcs’ heads begin to appear above the floorline and pulled the trigger, his bolt taking an orc through the eye and causing it to slump silently to the floor. Another orc started to yell a warning but it turned into a scream as an arrow and a bolt thunked into it’s chest and back. Two more orcs remained on the lift, but they were cut down by steady fire before it finished rising.
Jack examined the lift mechanism while the others labored to clear it of bodies. Ike once again noted that the monsters all had full purses. Jack declared the lift to be obviously of dwarven manufacture. “We got nearly the same things back home, though quite a few upgrades ha’ been made to the design since this’n were built,” he explained, showing them how to operate the device. When he was satisfied that all of them now knew how to use the lift, they climbed into the metal basket and they started their descent into the shaft.
They came to a stop again one level below, in an identical square room empty except for a few support beams and part of the lift system. A single exit led out of the room, and they cautiously filed out of the basket and into the hall. They came to another four way intersection, but both the south and eastern passage were collapsed, leaving north as the only option.
A room opened to the north, the door smashed from its hinges and laying in the hall. Old, dry patches of blood stained the floor, and it appeared that two bodies had been dragged into the room. Indicating that the others should wait in the hall, Ike and Welby moved into the chamber and searched it. It contained the decaying remnants of old splintered furnishings in addition to the two corpses, but nothing else of interst or value. The corpses were those of orcs. They had been dead for some time but not so long that Ike could not tell they had died of strangulation, awful bruised circles ringing both orcs’ necks. Something had fed upon the bodies afterwards, and large amounts of flesh had been gnawed away.
Ike shuddered. The smell from the corpses nauseated him, and he and Welby hustled from the room to join the others. “Nothing in there,” he sputtered, trying to contain his rising gorge. “Just a couple of rotting corpses.”
“How did they die?” Eli wanted to know.
“Strangled. Their necks were bruised up pretty bad. Something’s been eating at the bodies, though, so it’s hard to say more than that.”
“Why would they have been killed and left here?” Royston wondered.
“Who knows? Could’ve just been infighting - it’s pretty common for my people to kill each other over petty disagreements.”
“Bah,” grumbled Jack. “At any rate, there’s nothin here and no ways to continue. Let’s get back on the lift and go down further.”
As they made their way back to the lift room, Ike lingered behind momentarily. Something about the whole scene bothered him, something he couldn’t put his finger on. It was like some sixth sense was screaming ‘Danger!’ at him. Finally he shrugged and started to follow the others. He did not see the tentacle that shot out of a loose pile of rubble behind him, but he soon felt it as it wrapped around his throat and yanked him off his feet.
They halted thirty feet down the hallway at a four way intersection. Directly ahead of them the passage was blocked by another stout door, barred shut on their side. The right tunnel had collapsed long ago and was choked with rubble, and the left continued past the range of their vision. Jack regarded the closed door.
“Reckon we should take a look inside?”
Welby shook his head. “Door shut for reason,” he managed around a mouthful of rodent.
Jack started to argue but the Crow interrupted him. “The little guy’s got a point. They might be trying to keep something in there.”
Jack persisted, “I don’ like leavin rooms behind me unexplored. Might be leavin an enemy at our backs; might be leavin some poor prisoner in chains unaided.”
“You have a valid argument,” Eli spoke next. “However, I’m inclined to side with the others at this time. We can be reasonably certain that no threat is going to come at us from this direction, and the distinct possibility exists that the orcs were trying to keep something out. Let us secure the rest of the complex; we can always return and examine this passage again when the orcs and their masters have been dealt with.”
Outnumbered, Jack was forced to agree. They started down the left-passageway and moved forward about twenty feet before Ike called for a halt. When they quit moving everyone could hear it, the sound of metal rattling against metal. The sound seemed to emanate from just around a bend in the corridor. Cautiously, they moved up to the corner and peered around it. Here the tunnel ended, opening into a large square room contaning a large hole in the center of it’s floor. An ingenious tangle of pulleys, catches, and gears hung suspended from the ceiling, all slowly spinning in place. This had the result of pulling at a chain that rose from the hole, gradually winding it around a straight bar.
Welby moved up to the lip of the opening and looked down, then jumped back and readied his axe. “More orcs,” he warned. “Coming up in metal box.”
Ike dropped to his belly and readied his crossbow, aiming it towards the hole. The Crow moved around to the other side of the chamber, also readying his crossbow. Jack, Welby, and Eli followed suit, readying their bows and slowly fanning out around the room.
Ike saw the orcs’ heads begin to appear above the floorline and pulled the trigger, his bolt taking an orc through the eye and causing it to slump silently to the floor. Another orc started to yell a warning but it turned into a scream as an arrow and a bolt thunked into it’s chest and back. Two more orcs remained on the lift, but they were cut down by steady fire before it finished rising.
Jack examined the lift mechanism while the others labored to clear it of bodies. Ike once again noted that the monsters all had full purses. Jack declared the lift to be obviously of dwarven manufacture. “We got nearly the same things back home, though quite a few upgrades ha’ been made to the design since this’n were built,” he explained, showing them how to operate the device. When he was satisfied that all of them now knew how to use the lift, they climbed into the metal basket and they started their descent into the shaft.
They came to a stop again one level below, in an identical square room empty except for a few support beams and part of the lift system. A single exit led out of the room, and they cautiously filed out of the basket and into the hall. They came to another four way intersection, but both the south and eastern passage were collapsed, leaving north as the only option.
A room opened to the north, the door smashed from its hinges and laying in the hall. Old, dry patches of blood stained the floor, and it appeared that two bodies had been dragged into the room. Indicating that the others should wait in the hall, Ike and Welby moved into the chamber and searched it. It contained the decaying remnants of old splintered furnishings in addition to the two corpses, but nothing else of interst or value. The corpses were those of orcs. They had been dead for some time but not so long that Ike could not tell they had died of strangulation, awful bruised circles ringing both orcs’ necks. Something had fed upon the bodies afterwards, and large amounts of flesh had been gnawed away.
Ike shuddered. The smell from the corpses nauseated him, and he and Welby hustled from the room to join the others. “Nothing in there,” he sputtered, trying to contain his rising gorge. “Just a couple of rotting corpses.”
“How did they die?” Eli wanted to know.
“Strangled. Their necks were bruised up pretty bad. Something’s been eating at the bodies, though, so it’s hard to say more than that.”
“Why would they have been killed and left here?” Royston wondered.
“Who knows? Could’ve just been infighting - it’s pretty common for my people to kill each other over petty disagreements.”
“Bah,” grumbled Jack. “At any rate, there’s nothin here and no ways to continue. Let’s get back on the lift and go down further.”
As they made their way back to the lift room, Ike lingered behind momentarily. Something about the whole scene bothered him, something he couldn’t put his finger on. It was like some sixth sense was screaming ‘Danger!’ at him. Finally he shrugged and started to follow the others. He did not see the tentacle that shot out of a loose pile of rubble behind him, but he soon felt it as it wrapped around his throat and yanked him off his feet.
Sniktch
First Post
The Choker strikes! Aldin Trember.
Welby paused. He thought he’d heard something - yes, there it was again. Not the soft footfalls of Ike padding along behind him, but a scraping, scuffling sound. He glanced back over his shoulder and shouted in dismay and alarm. A strange creature had emerged from the rubble blocking the southern hallway. It looked like a ghoulish, emaciated halfling with tough, knobby gray skin and incredibly long and spindly arms and legs. It had one of its tentacle like limbs wrapped around Filthy Ike’s neck, the half-orc vainly struggling, eyes bulging and skin taking a bluish cast.
Welby shouted again and charged towards the creature. It dropped the half-orc to the floor, where he lay unmoving, and slapped at Welby’s head. He barely ducked the blow and swung his axe at its midsection, but the creature’s movements were strange and fluid, its body seeming to roll out of the path of the blow and then snapping back as the monster renewed its attack with incredible celerity. He managed a glancing blow off its ribs and then the creature caught him in one of its claws, its long tentacles wrapping around his throat and cutting into his windpipe. He dropped his axe and tried to pull its arm away but the creature was amazingly strong for its size. Too strong. Black spots began dancing in his vision and he focused all of his will upon simply remaining conscious.
Jack charged in with the Crow just behind, deflecting a slap with his shield as he closed with his foe. He swung his axe in a downward chop, reacting instinctively when the creature dodged at the last moment, and cutting hard into one of its legs, nearly severing it. The Crow stepped in as the monster howled in pain and neatly skewered the arm holding Welby with his rapier.
It dropped the halfling and lashed out blindly in pain and rage, delivering a ringing slap to Jack’s helmet that drove the dwarf to one knee. Welby remained on his hands and knees, gasping and retching. Dazed, Jack swung wildly and missed but the Crow flanked it and delivered a killing hit, neatly piercing its throat.
Eli had watched the battle for several moments, waiting for an opportunity to put an arrow into the beast. It soon became clear to him that he was far more likely to hit one of his friends than the small and agile monster they fought, so he dropped his bow and ran to where it had dropped Filthy Ike. The half-orc’s throat already showed intense bruising and discoloration, and he did not appear to be breathing. Thinking back to the few lessons he’d received on the healing arts, Eli tilted Ike’s head back, pinched his nostrils shut and exhaled down his throat, forcing air into his lungs. After several tense moments Ike’s eyes shot open and he sat up, wheezing and coughing.
Jack used the last of his healing prayers for the day to fortify the wounded Ike and Welby. It was not much, but for now it kept them on their feet. His own skull still rang from the hit he’d taken, but he had only one more blessing today and that could only be used to augment his weapon. They searched through the rubble that had hid the creature for a few minutes but found nothing, until Jack said, “Don’t seem to be anything down here other’n that critter. Might as well keep headin down. Won’t be safe to camp ‘til we know the orcs’re won’t be lookin fer who killed their friends.”
Battered and weary, they climbed back into the lift and proceeded down the shaft. They dropped into a larger chamber that was relatively clear of debris, all of it having been piled in one corner of the room. Two orcs lounged by a doorway and a third pushed a wheelbarrow full of rubble toward the mound. One of the orcs looked up and recognized intruders in the basket, and picked up a crossbow as it yelled down the hall “Aldin! Aldin!”
Ike fired his crossbow at the shouting orc, the bolt tearing into its cheek and burrowing into its throat. The orc’s cries became a gurgle as it choked on its blood. The one manning the wheelbarrow dropped its load and sprinted for its weapon, but Jack jumped from the basket before the lift stopped moving and cut it down. The remaining orc dodged a fired bolt from Royston and launched one of its own, missing, before turning and fleeing the chamber. Welby shot it in the back but it didn’t slow, disappearing around a corner.
___________________________________________
Aldin Trember looked up when he heard the first cries. He rose from puzzle he’d been studying and grabbed his weapon, a beautifully crafted mace. He called to his orcish companion and it ceased its digging, throwing down the shovel it held in favor of its axe. A moment later another orc ran into the room shouting for him, an arrow imbedded in its shoulder blade.
“Aldin, dey’s introoders, lots of ‘em. Da rest of da boyz is ded.”
“Silence, you fool! With the blessings of Our Dark Mistress, we shall make short work of these fools.” Aldin grabbed the arrow and yanked it free, ignoring the orc’s howl of pain. He grabbed the spurting wound and called for his lady’s blessing. It was a stupid creature and unworthy of the gift, but he needed its strength now to repulse this invasion. The wound hissed and smoked as the divine power cauterized and sealed it.
“Now, both of you, kill the infidels! I shall be right behind you.” As the orcs charged out of the room Aldin chanted another prayer, raising a shield to protect himself from ranged attacks. Thus protected, and armed with his faith, Aldin followed the orcs, certain of his coming victory.
___________________________________________
Jack and the Royston Crow entered the passage first to find two howling orcs bearing down upon them. Behind the orcs approached a man surrounded by a glowing nimbus of multi-colored lights and carrying a wickedly flanged mace. He roared “Clangeddin!” and rushed forward to meet the charge. His first stroke destroyed an orc’s ribcage, but the other orc chopped deep into Royston’s side and the half-elf fell moaning to the floor. He paired off against the remaining orc and waited for it to commit to an attack.
Eli hung back with Welby and Ike, who were too badly injured to risk the dangerous blades of the orcs. His attention was focused on the figure with the chaotic aura, and he watched as his companions fired their bows at the man. The arrows struck the field and were deflected into the floor. Eli chanted the words to a spell, pointing his finger towards the man. A thin ray of freezing cold shot out of his fingertip and knifed through the air, but Eli could only watch in dismay as it was refracted harmlessly into the wall by the shimmering field.
The last orc hesitated only momentarily before charging. Jack sidestepped at the last moment, bringing his own axe in line with the orc’s neck and neatly decapitating it. He spun to face the last adversary as he heard the body slump to the floor behind him. The figure looked like an older and heavy set version of Marsem Trember, the sorcerer they had captured earlier today, his image strangely contorted by the lights dancing around him. Reciting a prayer to the Morrigan, the figure beckoned him forward. Jack raised his axe and charged.
Eli watched his friend move to combat the enemy priest. As Jack drew near, the man finished his prayer and his hand began to emit a sickly black light. He reached out and placed his palm on Jack’s mailed vest and the dwarf fell away gasping, icy fingers of pain clutching at his heart. Eli yelled, “No!” and cast his final offensive spell. A silver bolt of energy streaked toward his foe, this time punching through the protective field and striking him with a hiss. Welby and Ike followed with another volley and this time Welby’s arrow flew true to his mark, piercing Aldin just above the knee.
Aldin staggered forward, cursing his enemies with every colorful oath he knew. He swung his mace at Jack’s head, hoping to finish the dwarf before he recovered. Steel rang on steel as Jack brought his axe up, parrying the blow. Jack pushed upwards against his opponent’s weapon, at the same time kicking his opponent’s wounded knee with a heavy, mailed boot.
Aldin screamed in pain and outrage as his leg gave out from under him and he collapsed to the floor. They would pay for the suffering and humiliation they had caused him this day! He would make sure that their agony would last until they begged for the release of death. He looked up to see a gleaming axe blade descending, but he did not have enough time to scream again before it struck.
Welby paused. He thought he’d heard something - yes, there it was again. Not the soft footfalls of Ike padding along behind him, but a scraping, scuffling sound. He glanced back over his shoulder and shouted in dismay and alarm. A strange creature had emerged from the rubble blocking the southern hallway. It looked like a ghoulish, emaciated halfling with tough, knobby gray skin and incredibly long and spindly arms and legs. It had one of its tentacle like limbs wrapped around Filthy Ike’s neck, the half-orc vainly struggling, eyes bulging and skin taking a bluish cast.
Welby shouted again and charged towards the creature. It dropped the half-orc to the floor, where he lay unmoving, and slapped at Welby’s head. He barely ducked the blow and swung his axe at its midsection, but the creature’s movements were strange and fluid, its body seeming to roll out of the path of the blow and then snapping back as the monster renewed its attack with incredible celerity. He managed a glancing blow off its ribs and then the creature caught him in one of its claws, its long tentacles wrapping around his throat and cutting into his windpipe. He dropped his axe and tried to pull its arm away but the creature was amazingly strong for its size. Too strong. Black spots began dancing in his vision and he focused all of his will upon simply remaining conscious.
Jack charged in with the Crow just behind, deflecting a slap with his shield as he closed with his foe. He swung his axe in a downward chop, reacting instinctively when the creature dodged at the last moment, and cutting hard into one of its legs, nearly severing it. The Crow stepped in as the monster howled in pain and neatly skewered the arm holding Welby with his rapier.
It dropped the halfling and lashed out blindly in pain and rage, delivering a ringing slap to Jack’s helmet that drove the dwarf to one knee. Welby remained on his hands and knees, gasping and retching. Dazed, Jack swung wildly and missed but the Crow flanked it and delivered a killing hit, neatly piercing its throat.
Eli had watched the battle for several moments, waiting for an opportunity to put an arrow into the beast. It soon became clear to him that he was far more likely to hit one of his friends than the small and agile monster they fought, so he dropped his bow and ran to where it had dropped Filthy Ike. The half-orc’s throat already showed intense bruising and discoloration, and he did not appear to be breathing. Thinking back to the few lessons he’d received on the healing arts, Eli tilted Ike’s head back, pinched his nostrils shut and exhaled down his throat, forcing air into his lungs. After several tense moments Ike’s eyes shot open and he sat up, wheezing and coughing.
Jack used the last of his healing prayers for the day to fortify the wounded Ike and Welby. It was not much, but for now it kept them on their feet. His own skull still rang from the hit he’d taken, but he had only one more blessing today and that could only be used to augment his weapon. They searched through the rubble that had hid the creature for a few minutes but found nothing, until Jack said, “Don’t seem to be anything down here other’n that critter. Might as well keep headin down. Won’t be safe to camp ‘til we know the orcs’re won’t be lookin fer who killed their friends.”
Battered and weary, they climbed back into the lift and proceeded down the shaft. They dropped into a larger chamber that was relatively clear of debris, all of it having been piled in one corner of the room. Two orcs lounged by a doorway and a third pushed a wheelbarrow full of rubble toward the mound. One of the orcs looked up and recognized intruders in the basket, and picked up a crossbow as it yelled down the hall “Aldin! Aldin!”
Ike fired his crossbow at the shouting orc, the bolt tearing into its cheek and burrowing into its throat. The orc’s cries became a gurgle as it choked on its blood. The one manning the wheelbarrow dropped its load and sprinted for its weapon, but Jack jumped from the basket before the lift stopped moving and cut it down. The remaining orc dodged a fired bolt from Royston and launched one of its own, missing, before turning and fleeing the chamber. Welby shot it in the back but it didn’t slow, disappearing around a corner.
___________________________________________
Aldin Trember looked up when he heard the first cries. He rose from puzzle he’d been studying and grabbed his weapon, a beautifully crafted mace. He called to his orcish companion and it ceased its digging, throwing down the shovel it held in favor of its axe. A moment later another orc ran into the room shouting for him, an arrow imbedded in its shoulder blade.
“Aldin, dey’s introoders, lots of ‘em. Da rest of da boyz is ded.”
“Silence, you fool! With the blessings of Our Dark Mistress, we shall make short work of these fools.” Aldin grabbed the arrow and yanked it free, ignoring the orc’s howl of pain. He grabbed the spurting wound and called for his lady’s blessing. It was a stupid creature and unworthy of the gift, but he needed its strength now to repulse this invasion. The wound hissed and smoked as the divine power cauterized and sealed it.
“Now, both of you, kill the infidels! I shall be right behind you.” As the orcs charged out of the room Aldin chanted another prayer, raising a shield to protect himself from ranged attacks. Thus protected, and armed with his faith, Aldin followed the orcs, certain of his coming victory.
___________________________________________
Jack and the Royston Crow entered the passage first to find two howling orcs bearing down upon them. Behind the orcs approached a man surrounded by a glowing nimbus of multi-colored lights and carrying a wickedly flanged mace. He roared “Clangeddin!” and rushed forward to meet the charge. His first stroke destroyed an orc’s ribcage, but the other orc chopped deep into Royston’s side and the half-elf fell moaning to the floor. He paired off against the remaining orc and waited for it to commit to an attack.
Eli hung back with Welby and Ike, who were too badly injured to risk the dangerous blades of the orcs. His attention was focused on the figure with the chaotic aura, and he watched as his companions fired their bows at the man. The arrows struck the field and were deflected into the floor. Eli chanted the words to a spell, pointing his finger towards the man. A thin ray of freezing cold shot out of his fingertip and knifed through the air, but Eli could only watch in dismay as it was refracted harmlessly into the wall by the shimmering field.
The last orc hesitated only momentarily before charging. Jack sidestepped at the last moment, bringing his own axe in line with the orc’s neck and neatly decapitating it. He spun to face the last adversary as he heard the body slump to the floor behind him. The figure looked like an older and heavy set version of Marsem Trember, the sorcerer they had captured earlier today, his image strangely contorted by the lights dancing around him. Reciting a prayer to the Morrigan, the figure beckoned him forward. Jack raised his axe and charged.
Eli watched his friend move to combat the enemy priest. As Jack drew near, the man finished his prayer and his hand began to emit a sickly black light. He reached out and placed his palm on Jack’s mailed vest and the dwarf fell away gasping, icy fingers of pain clutching at his heart. Eli yelled, “No!” and cast his final offensive spell. A silver bolt of energy streaked toward his foe, this time punching through the protective field and striking him with a hiss. Welby and Ike followed with another volley and this time Welby’s arrow flew true to his mark, piercing Aldin just above the knee.
Aldin staggered forward, cursing his enemies with every colorful oath he knew. He swung his mace at Jack’s head, hoping to finish the dwarf before he recovered. Steel rang on steel as Jack brought his axe up, parrying the blow. Jack pushed upwards against his opponent’s weapon, at the same time kicking his opponent’s wounded knee with a heavy, mailed boot.
Aldin screamed in pain and outrage as his leg gave out from under him and he collapsed to the floor. They would pay for the suffering and humiliation they had caused him this day! He would make sure that their agony would last until they begged for the release of death. He looked up to see a gleaming axe blade descending, but he did not have enough time to scream again before it struck.
Sniktch
First Post
Aftermath
After the combat ended, Jack tended to the wounded half-elf while the others searched the bodies and explored the area. The Crow was severely injured, several of his ribs laid bare by the vicious blow he’d received. Jack wished he had a healing prayer available, but his magic was exhausted until tomorrow morning. It was going to take all of his skill to keep the stricken warrior alive until then.
Ike knelt by the corpse of Aldin Trember, rummaging through his belongings. He traded his own poorly made weapon for the master crafted mace the fallen cleric had wielded. A couple of practice swipes later he was convinced that this was a far superior weapon, weighted and balanced perfectly. He also retrieved Aldin’s coin purse and deposited it in his own pockets, and found a roll of parchment covered with strange symbols and runes.
“Hey, Eli! What do you make of this?” Ike called the wizard over to examine his find.
Eli accepted the scrap of paper and murmured a spell before examining it. “Yes, it is magical, Ike, but I cannot read it,” he explained. “See? These runes place it as a work of divine magic, so it is not something I would be able to comprehend or make use of. Take it to Jack.”
Ike took the scroll and brought it over to the dwarf. Jack glanced at briefly before becoming excited and tearing it from the half-orc’s hands. “Aha, look at this! In defeat our enemies give us the means to care fer our own. Thank you fer this good fortune, Clangeddin.”
He held the scroll in one hand, reciting the words as he placed the other hand over Royston’s wounded chest. The parchment crumbled to dust as Jack unlocked the spell, and his other hand grew warm with positive energy. Within moments the Crow was sitting up, blinking and looking around, the wound in his chest reduced to a simple scratch.
Welby returned from the hallway, where he had been scouting ahead. “No more exits. Big room, lots of boxes, no more orcs. Odd carving in floor.” He led the way down the short passage, passing a couple of collapsed side tunnels choked with rubble before entering a grand hall. More boxes and crates of supplies stood stacked by the door, many containing religious implements. An abandoned shovel lay on the ground beside a pile of debris that had yet to be cleared from the room.
Jack stopped them on the threshold of the chamber, pointing out a series of ruins carefully engraved into the arch. “It’s in the dwarven alphabet,” he stated, then read aloud: “The dwarven spirit is filled with secrets."
As Welby had warned, the floor of the room held a puzzle. In the middle of the chamber a circular indentation was carved into the rock. Placed equidistant around the circle, six grooves formed channels leading up to and continuing under the walls. Jack nodded, “This must be what the inscription’s referrin to.”
Ike agreed, “I think you’re right, but I also think this puzzle is beyond us right now. Since we’re pretty sure we killed all the occupants of this cave, my vote is to go back to town, rest and resupply, and come back in a day or two. I doubt anyone else is gonna find this place while we’re gone.”
Jack and Eli wanted to remain at the cave, but Welby and the Crow clearly sided with Ike. In the end, Jack and Eli opted to remain behind and guard the cave until the others got back. Welby, Ike, and the Crow bid them farewell, promised to return quickly, and departed for Travensburg.
After the combat ended, Jack tended to the wounded half-elf while the others searched the bodies and explored the area. The Crow was severely injured, several of his ribs laid bare by the vicious blow he’d received. Jack wished he had a healing prayer available, but his magic was exhausted until tomorrow morning. It was going to take all of his skill to keep the stricken warrior alive until then.
Ike knelt by the corpse of Aldin Trember, rummaging through his belongings. He traded his own poorly made weapon for the master crafted mace the fallen cleric had wielded. A couple of practice swipes later he was convinced that this was a far superior weapon, weighted and balanced perfectly. He also retrieved Aldin’s coin purse and deposited it in his own pockets, and found a roll of parchment covered with strange symbols and runes.
“Hey, Eli! What do you make of this?” Ike called the wizard over to examine his find.
Eli accepted the scrap of paper and murmured a spell before examining it. “Yes, it is magical, Ike, but I cannot read it,” he explained. “See? These runes place it as a work of divine magic, so it is not something I would be able to comprehend or make use of. Take it to Jack.”
Ike took the scroll and brought it over to the dwarf. Jack glanced at briefly before becoming excited and tearing it from the half-orc’s hands. “Aha, look at this! In defeat our enemies give us the means to care fer our own. Thank you fer this good fortune, Clangeddin.”
He held the scroll in one hand, reciting the words as he placed the other hand over Royston’s wounded chest. The parchment crumbled to dust as Jack unlocked the spell, and his other hand grew warm with positive energy. Within moments the Crow was sitting up, blinking and looking around, the wound in his chest reduced to a simple scratch.
Welby returned from the hallway, where he had been scouting ahead. “No more exits. Big room, lots of boxes, no more orcs. Odd carving in floor.” He led the way down the short passage, passing a couple of collapsed side tunnels choked with rubble before entering a grand hall. More boxes and crates of supplies stood stacked by the door, many containing religious implements. An abandoned shovel lay on the ground beside a pile of debris that had yet to be cleared from the room.
Jack stopped them on the threshold of the chamber, pointing out a series of ruins carefully engraved into the arch. “It’s in the dwarven alphabet,” he stated, then read aloud: “The dwarven spirit is filled with secrets."
As Welby had warned, the floor of the room held a puzzle. In the middle of the chamber a circular indentation was carved into the rock. Placed equidistant around the circle, six grooves formed channels leading up to and continuing under the walls. Jack nodded, “This must be what the inscription’s referrin to.”
Ike agreed, “I think you’re right, but I also think this puzzle is beyond us right now. Since we’re pretty sure we killed all the occupants of this cave, my vote is to go back to town, rest and resupply, and come back in a day or two. I doubt anyone else is gonna find this place while we’re gone.”
Jack and Eli wanted to remain at the cave, but Welby and the Crow clearly sided with Ike. In the end, Jack and Eli opted to remain behind and guard the cave until the others got back. Welby, Ike, and the Crow bid them farewell, promised to return quickly, and departed for Travensburg.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Exciting stuff, Sniktch!
Love the creativity of Ike and the methodical axe-grinding of Jack!
And Welby's taste.
Love the creativity of Ike and the methodical axe-grinding of Jack!
And Welby's taste.
Sniktch
First Post
The stranger
Duncan Biggs looked up from his grim task. He had been one of the villagers Lord Travens had charged with remaining behind to cart away the corpses littering the road. It was hard work; even though the bodies had been lying out for less than half a day the freezing conditions resulted in them becoming nearly glued to the earth, and they had to work to pry each free before loading it into the cart.
He started as a figure appeared down the trail, slowly trudging in his direction. An awful lot of traffic had been moving down this road of late, considering the season. As the traveler grew near he beheld a man bundled in voluminous black furs, a scholarly looking, bespectacled gentleman with ice crusted in his neatly trimmed beard and moustache.
“Excuse me, good sir,” the stranger addressed him with a pleasant, amiable voice. “Is the village you live in far from here?”
“On’y ‘bout a mile further, old one. D’ya need assistance, then?”
“No, thank you, kind sir. I am not so old as I appear to be, a hazard of my occupation, I’m afraid. I am simply tired of walking through this weather and would have a steaming bowl of fresh cooked food and a warm bed to lie in before nightfall.” The stranger examined the scene around him for a moment before continuing, “What has happened here? Perhaps you are the one in need of assistance.”
Duncan looked down at the corpse he’d been working on and shook his head. “Nay, ‘twas bad business but’s done now. Bandits on the road, y’know, but a group of heroes took care o’ them. They left to chase ‘em back to their hideout ‘bout two or three hours ago – prolly no bandits left by now.” He sighed deeply. “But still got’s some clean up to do, can’t leave these poor souls just a-layin’ on the road ‘til spring.”
The stranger regarded him with piercing eyes that seemed too young to belong on his face. Duncan shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and when it became clear to him the man was not going to speak, he continued, “Head down the road another mile and you should reach Travensburg. I’d recommend The Foaming Mug – Ned’s fire’s usually blazin’ and ‘is cookin’ can’t be beat.”
The man nodded his thanks and continued down the snow-covered road. Duncan shivered as he passed, remembering the penetrating gaze of those clear gray eyes, then bent to continue his work. He soon forgot the incident as the figure passed over a hill and out of sight.
____________________________________
Ned Nebbly shivered behind the bar as the door of the Foaming Mug swung open and the wind swirled through the room. A large form covered in black fur shambled into the room, shaking snow off as it entered. The newcomer pushed the door firmly shut and ambled towards the bar, shedding garments as it approached. The clothing peeled away to reveal a man approaching middle age, perhaps, with graying hair and tiny spectacles perched upon a slightly beaked nose.
The man stared at him with bright slate gray eyes. “Do you have something warm for a traveler to eat? Or perhaps a room? Or both?” The stranger’s voice was warm and friendly, and Ned instantly liked him.
“Yeah, sure. Sure I do. Nice coney stew - caught ‘em myself, young and tender. And plenty of rooms, sir. Noone’s on the roads this time o’ year, ‘cept for... well, what’re you doin’ out, sir, in weather like this?”
“My hobbies keep me moving, regardless of the weather. I am a... scholar, a studier of old places from the time before. I heard of the old ruins in the hills near this place, and I had to come and see for myself.”
“You’d not be the first to come poking around in those old mines.” Ned cheerfully prattled as he placed a large steaming bowl of stew and a room key before the man. He saw an eyebrow raise in interest, but he waited patiently for payment. The man spun two gold coins across the table, which Ned quickly palmed then pocketed. He described the dwarf and elf to the stranger while the man ate, and the three who had joined him, and the conversation he’d heard about “the old mines of Duernfast.”
The stranger finished eating without a word, then thanked Ned for his hospitality and climbed the stairs to his room, gathering his dripping garments before he went.
_________________________________
Artimas Sendant locked the door to his small room and sank into the bed, pulling the blankets over himself. He cursed the fate that chased him to this small backwoods village in the dead of winter, but he had little control over the matter. Besides, it seemed these ruins had already attracted other adventurers; they might be worthy of investigation after all. He slowly sank into sleep, recalling the chain of events that had found him here.
Artimas grew up in the border town of Bolg Mor, the child of poverty stricken peat miners. A local apothecary rescued him from a similar fate, a minor wizard who recognized Artimas’ talent and desired a helper in his shop. Artimas took much from his apprenticeship, learning a good bit of anatomy and herblore and even a little spellcraft, though his true love was always for paintings and art. He saved his small wage for years until he was able to afford entry into the local college.
University life proved more costly than he had accounted for, and he began to draw income in a sinister manner. One day he overheard two medical students bemoaning the lack of “proper material” for their research. During his years at the apothecary’s Artimas had developed a morbid fascination with death and the macabre, and he approached the students, offering to supply them with all the material they needed, at a price.
Thus began a lucrative, two year stint as a grave-robber, during which he learned more and more about the necromantic arts. He spent his days in classrooms studying the classics and his night prowling about burial grounds increasing his inventory. The pattern may have persisted indefinitely if not for those blasted elves! Two diplomats from the High Court had stumbled upon his nocturnal activities and chased him from the town.
He ran a long way, eventually coming to a stop in Ravensdale. Then times had been good again, for awhile, as he had fallen in with a small cult that worshipped Arawn, the God of the Dead. They taught him that all the souls of the dead went to Arawn’s kingdom after they died, and that it was not disrespectful to use the bodies of the deceased as tool if it bettered the lives of those still living. He often considered entering the clergy, becoming a priest of Arawn, and still did. Even after the Crusaders arrived in town his group had been left alone, as that group had expended all of its energy in persecuting the massive Thieves’ Guild in the city, but when the thieves finally cracked and fled, the Crusaders began to turn their eye upon other activities, and Artimas ran once again.
All of which led to him being here, in this village, in this room, in this bed, under this pile of warm blankets, and drifting rapidly to sleep...
Duncan Biggs looked up from his grim task. He had been one of the villagers Lord Travens had charged with remaining behind to cart away the corpses littering the road. It was hard work; even though the bodies had been lying out for less than half a day the freezing conditions resulted in them becoming nearly glued to the earth, and they had to work to pry each free before loading it into the cart.
He started as a figure appeared down the trail, slowly trudging in his direction. An awful lot of traffic had been moving down this road of late, considering the season. As the traveler grew near he beheld a man bundled in voluminous black furs, a scholarly looking, bespectacled gentleman with ice crusted in his neatly trimmed beard and moustache.
“Excuse me, good sir,” the stranger addressed him with a pleasant, amiable voice. “Is the village you live in far from here?”
“On’y ‘bout a mile further, old one. D’ya need assistance, then?”
“No, thank you, kind sir. I am not so old as I appear to be, a hazard of my occupation, I’m afraid. I am simply tired of walking through this weather and would have a steaming bowl of fresh cooked food and a warm bed to lie in before nightfall.” The stranger examined the scene around him for a moment before continuing, “What has happened here? Perhaps you are the one in need of assistance.”
Duncan looked down at the corpse he’d been working on and shook his head. “Nay, ‘twas bad business but’s done now. Bandits on the road, y’know, but a group of heroes took care o’ them. They left to chase ‘em back to their hideout ‘bout two or three hours ago – prolly no bandits left by now.” He sighed deeply. “But still got’s some clean up to do, can’t leave these poor souls just a-layin’ on the road ‘til spring.”
The stranger regarded him with piercing eyes that seemed too young to belong on his face. Duncan shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and when it became clear to him the man was not going to speak, he continued, “Head down the road another mile and you should reach Travensburg. I’d recommend The Foaming Mug – Ned’s fire’s usually blazin’ and ‘is cookin’ can’t be beat.”
The man nodded his thanks and continued down the snow-covered road. Duncan shivered as he passed, remembering the penetrating gaze of those clear gray eyes, then bent to continue his work. He soon forgot the incident as the figure passed over a hill and out of sight.
____________________________________
Ned Nebbly shivered behind the bar as the door of the Foaming Mug swung open and the wind swirled through the room. A large form covered in black fur shambled into the room, shaking snow off as it entered. The newcomer pushed the door firmly shut and ambled towards the bar, shedding garments as it approached. The clothing peeled away to reveal a man approaching middle age, perhaps, with graying hair and tiny spectacles perched upon a slightly beaked nose.
The man stared at him with bright slate gray eyes. “Do you have something warm for a traveler to eat? Or perhaps a room? Or both?” The stranger’s voice was warm and friendly, and Ned instantly liked him.
“Yeah, sure. Sure I do. Nice coney stew - caught ‘em myself, young and tender. And plenty of rooms, sir. Noone’s on the roads this time o’ year, ‘cept for... well, what’re you doin’ out, sir, in weather like this?”
“My hobbies keep me moving, regardless of the weather. I am a... scholar, a studier of old places from the time before. I heard of the old ruins in the hills near this place, and I had to come and see for myself.”
“You’d not be the first to come poking around in those old mines.” Ned cheerfully prattled as he placed a large steaming bowl of stew and a room key before the man. He saw an eyebrow raise in interest, but he waited patiently for payment. The man spun two gold coins across the table, which Ned quickly palmed then pocketed. He described the dwarf and elf to the stranger while the man ate, and the three who had joined him, and the conversation he’d heard about “the old mines of Duernfast.”
The stranger finished eating without a word, then thanked Ned for his hospitality and climbed the stairs to his room, gathering his dripping garments before he went.
_________________________________
Artimas Sendant locked the door to his small room and sank into the bed, pulling the blankets over himself. He cursed the fate that chased him to this small backwoods village in the dead of winter, but he had little control over the matter. Besides, it seemed these ruins had already attracted other adventurers; they might be worthy of investigation after all. He slowly sank into sleep, recalling the chain of events that had found him here.
Artimas grew up in the border town of Bolg Mor, the child of poverty stricken peat miners. A local apothecary rescued him from a similar fate, a minor wizard who recognized Artimas’ talent and desired a helper in his shop. Artimas took much from his apprenticeship, learning a good bit of anatomy and herblore and even a little spellcraft, though his true love was always for paintings and art. He saved his small wage for years until he was able to afford entry into the local college.
University life proved more costly than he had accounted for, and he began to draw income in a sinister manner. One day he overheard two medical students bemoaning the lack of “proper material” for their research. During his years at the apothecary’s Artimas had developed a morbid fascination with death and the macabre, and he approached the students, offering to supply them with all the material they needed, at a price.
Thus began a lucrative, two year stint as a grave-robber, during which he learned more and more about the necromantic arts. He spent his days in classrooms studying the classics and his night prowling about burial grounds increasing his inventory. The pattern may have persisted indefinitely if not for those blasted elves! Two diplomats from the High Court had stumbled upon his nocturnal activities and chased him from the town.
He ran a long way, eventually coming to a stop in Ravensdale. Then times had been good again, for awhile, as he had fallen in with a small cult that worshipped Arawn, the God of the Dead. They taught him that all the souls of the dead went to Arawn’s kingdom after they died, and that it was not disrespectful to use the bodies of the deceased as tool if it bettered the lives of those still living. He often considered entering the clergy, becoming a priest of Arawn, and still did. Even after the Crusaders arrived in town his group had been left alone, as that group had expended all of its energy in persecuting the massive Thieves’ Guild in the city, but when the thieves finally cracked and fled, the Crusaders began to turn their eye upon other activities, and Artimas ran once again.
All of which led to him being here, in this village, in this room, in this bed, under this pile of warm blankets, and drifting rapidly to sleep...
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