Sniktch
First Post
Er, hmmm. To be honest, we never really thought about it - we just used the spells the way they were listed in the PHB...
*****
Upon seeing the halfling girl again, Welby went berserk. “You die now, food-thief!” he roared, hefting his axe and charging Anenome.
“Eeeek!” she squealed and dove beneath a nearby table and started scrambling across the floor. Welby changed directions but one of the Crusaders stepped in his path, sword drawn, and the battle for Ned’s bar was joined. Unthinkingly, the barbarian shoved forward with his axe, crushing the man’s groin with the heavy steel head. He groaned and doubled over, and Welby hacked his left leg off just above the knee, then ran past the falling, screaming man, smashed a table that was in his way, and pursued the fleeing Anemone with single-minded murderous intent.
Ned yelled, “No! No! My bar, my poor bar!” and ducked down out of sight, occasionally shrieking in dismay at a loud crash or the sound of glass breaking. By the bar a stout man dressed in wizard’s robes began waving his hands in arcane gestures and spouting the words to a spell, but Ike whipped out a dagger and flung it at him, and the mage’s spell died in a wet gurgle as the blade sunk in to his throat.
Grick jumped up and tumbled over a table, knocking a mug into the air and just barely deflecting a sword swipe aimed at his head. He fell into a crouch on the other side facing a young female in simple white robes. “Ah, interesting – a half-orc trained in the dwarven martial arts,” she said. “However, my kung fu is superior to yours, as you will see.” She cracked her knuckles and smiled in anticipation. The half-orc faked a punch and then spun low, throwing out his leg and attempting to sweep his opponent from her feet. She easily hopped over the ill-timed blow and landed an elbow to the side of Grick’s head. Bright flashes of pain obscured his vision and the monk fell to his knees, shaking his head to clear his senses.
Above him the woman raised her hand for a brutal, finishing chop. “Told you,” she gloated, then suddenly there was a crunch and her eyes rolled up in her head, her knees became rubbery, and she collapsed at Grick’s feet.
Behind her, Quinn regarded the clumps of hair and scalp stuck to her weapon. “My mace is stronger than your kung-fu,” she quipped, then offered her friend a hand and helped him back to his feet.
In the middle of the tavern, Jack, Fred, Ike, the Crow, and Artimas battled back-to-back as the Crusaders surrounded them. A couple had already met their end on the edge of Jack’s axe and the floor grew slippery from spilled blood and entrails. The heroes also bled from several shallow cuts but the odds were rapidly tilting in their favor.
Then Artimas found himself face to face with the man who seemed to be their leader, a tall, stern looking individual with heavy sideburns and a prominently displayed holy symbol of Nuadha, god of justice. A glimmer of recognition flickered in the man’s eyes, “And what do we have here? Foul necromancer, I had hoped our paths would cross again. You eluded me in Ravensdale; you will not escape me here!”
“Zealot,” sneered Artimas. “You talk too much.” He opened his mouth again and uttered a string of obscure syllables. His opponent took advantage of the opening and hammered the wizard in the ribs with his mace, but Artimas gritted his teeth against the pain and kept speaking, his concentration never wavering. As he completed the spell he reached forward and touched the man. The Crusader was seized in the grips of a magical paralysis and froze in mid-swing, an expression of righteous fury frozen on his face. He also began to give off a rank foetor like an open grave, and his companions wavered and stumbled back. “Much better,” sniffed the wizard as he began hammering the man’s skull in with his walking stick.
The death of their leader took the fight out of the remaining Crusaders, who broke ranks and ran for the door. Ike knocked one down with his mace as they ran by, and he did not get up again. In the corner of the room there was a crash as a window broke and Anemone leapt through, closely chased by a snarling Welby. The Crow yelled and ran after the halflings. Jack started to pursue the fleeing men-at-arms, but Ike laid a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
“Its not worth it, Jack. We can’t catch ‘em all and one or two more isn’t gonna hurt them any. No, I think we’d better just leave town before they come back with more friends.”
“Even better, before Lord Travens or any of his watch show up,” stated Artimas. He moved to the bar, behind which Ned could be heard whimpering, “my bar, my poor beautiful bar.”
“For your troubles, friend Ned,” the wizard declared as he slammed a sack of coins on the polished surface. “And now I’m afraid we must bid you farewell.”
The companions left and stumbled into Welby and the Crow. The halfling was spattered with gore and seemed satisfied with himself. “She steal cake no more,” he announced, pointing to a small mangled form in the grass nearby.
*****
The companions camped in the fields southeast of town, on the edge of the Dark Wood, while they debated what course to take next. So far the consensus seemed to be in favor of leaving Travensburg and journeying towards the capital of Graystone, but there was one very loud voice of dissent.
“I don’ like leavin’ Duernfast. We promised the old king we’d break the curse,” Jack grumbled.
“Jack, the creature that lies below the protective seal is far beyond our abilities to face right now. We must gain strength and knowledge before we could hope to stand against such a creature,” Artimas reasoned.
“Bah! So ye’re scared, necromancer. That figures, but dwarves are made o’ sterner stuff. I’m fer stayin’.”
“I hate to say it, but Artimas is right,” Quinn tried to reason with him. “We will return and uphold our promise, but its not something we can accomplish now. And with the Crusaders moving in on Travensburg, perhaps its best if we leave the area until it settles down.”
“You too, then?” Jack gazed at the priestess in disbelief. “Alright, I can’t argue with the whole lot of ya. Le’s do it yer way, then – but I am comin’ back t’do what’s right, with or withou’ the rest of ya.”
“No one’s arguing with that, Jack,” rumbled Filthy Ike. “I keep my promises too. We will return, my friend.”
In the morning they would set out, none of them dreaming of the adventures that lay ahead.
Next: The Born Again Ogres of the Blinding Light
*****
Upon seeing the halfling girl again, Welby went berserk. “You die now, food-thief!” he roared, hefting his axe and charging Anenome.
“Eeeek!” she squealed and dove beneath a nearby table and started scrambling across the floor. Welby changed directions but one of the Crusaders stepped in his path, sword drawn, and the battle for Ned’s bar was joined. Unthinkingly, the barbarian shoved forward with his axe, crushing the man’s groin with the heavy steel head. He groaned and doubled over, and Welby hacked his left leg off just above the knee, then ran past the falling, screaming man, smashed a table that was in his way, and pursued the fleeing Anemone with single-minded murderous intent.
Ned yelled, “No! No! My bar, my poor bar!” and ducked down out of sight, occasionally shrieking in dismay at a loud crash or the sound of glass breaking. By the bar a stout man dressed in wizard’s robes began waving his hands in arcane gestures and spouting the words to a spell, but Ike whipped out a dagger and flung it at him, and the mage’s spell died in a wet gurgle as the blade sunk in to his throat.
Grick jumped up and tumbled over a table, knocking a mug into the air and just barely deflecting a sword swipe aimed at his head. He fell into a crouch on the other side facing a young female in simple white robes. “Ah, interesting – a half-orc trained in the dwarven martial arts,” she said. “However, my kung fu is superior to yours, as you will see.” She cracked her knuckles and smiled in anticipation. The half-orc faked a punch and then spun low, throwing out his leg and attempting to sweep his opponent from her feet. She easily hopped over the ill-timed blow and landed an elbow to the side of Grick’s head. Bright flashes of pain obscured his vision and the monk fell to his knees, shaking his head to clear his senses.
Above him the woman raised her hand for a brutal, finishing chop. “Told you,” she gloated, then suddenly there was a crunch and her eyes rolled up in her head, her knees became rubbery, and she collapsed at Grick’s feet.
Behind her, Quinn regarded the clumps of hair and scalp stuck to her weapon. “My mace is stronger than your kung-fu,” she quipped, then offered her friend a hand and helped him back to his feet.
In the middle of the tavern, Jack, Fred, Ike, the Crow, and Artimas battled back-to-back as the Crusaders surrounded them. A couple had already met their end on the edge of Jack’s axe and the floor grew slippery from spilled blood and entrails. The heroes also bled from several shallow cuts but the odds were rapidly tilting in their favor.
Then Artimas found himself face to face with the man who seemed to be their leader, a tall, stern looking individual with heavy sideburns and a prominently displayed holy symbol of Nuadha, god of justice. A glimmer of recognition flickered in the man’s eyes, “And what do we have here? Foul necromancer, I had hoped our paths would cross again. You eluded me in Ravensdale; you will not escape me here!”
“Zealot,” sneered Artimas. “You talk too much.” He opened his mouth again and uttered a string of obscure syllables. His opponent took advantage of the opening and hammered the wizard in the ribs with his mace, but Artimas gritted his teeth against the pain and kept speaking, his concentration never wavering. As he completed the spell he reached forward and touched the man. The Crusader was seized in the grips of a magical paralysis and froze in mid-swing, an expression of righteous fury frozen on his face. He also began to give off a rank foetor like an open grave, and his companions wavered and stumbled back. “Much better,” sniffed the wizard as he began hammering the man’s skull in with his walking stick.
The death of their leader took the fight out of the remaining Crusaders, who broke ranks and ran for the door. Ike knocked one down with his mace as they ran by, and he did not get up again. In the corner of the room there was a crash as a window broke and Anemone leapt through, closely chased by a snarling Welby. The Crow yelled and ran after the halflings. Jack started to pursue the fleeing men-at-arms, but Ike laid a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
“Its not worth it, Jack. We can’t catch ‘em all and one or two more isn’t gonna hurt them any. No, I think we’d better just leave town before they come back with more friends.”
“Even better, before Lord Travens or any of his watch show up,” stated Artimas. He moved to the bar, behind which Ned could be heard whimpering, “my bar, my poor beautiful bar.”
“For your troubles, friend Ned,” the wizard declared as he slammed a sack of coins on the polished surface. “And now I’m afraid we must bid you farewell.”
The companions left and stumbled into Welby and the Crow. The halfling was spattered with gore and seemed satisfied with himself. “She steal cake no more,” he announced, pointing to a small mangled form in the grass nearby.
*****
The companions camped in the fields southeast of town, on the edge of the Dark Wood, while they debated what course to take next. So far the consensus seemed to be in favor of leaving Travensburg and journeying towards the capital of Graystone, but there was one very loud voice of dissent.
“I don’ like leavin’ Duernfast. We promised the old king we’d break the curse,” Jack grumbled.
“Jack, the creature that lies below the protective seal is far beyond our abilities to face right now. We must gain strength and knowledge before we could hope to stand against such a creature,” Artimas reasoned.
“Bah! So ye’re scared, necromancer. That figures, but dwarves are made o’ sterner stuff. I’m fer stayin’.”
“I hate to say it, but Artimas is right,” Quinn tried to reason with him. “We will return and uphold our promise, but its not something we can accomplish now. And with the Crusaders moving in on Travensburg, perhaps its best if we leave the area until it settles down.”
“You too, then?” Jack gazed at the priestess in disbelief. “Alright, I can’t argue with the whole lot of ya. Le’s do it yer way, then – but I am comin’ back t’do what’s right, with or withou’ the rest of ya.”
“No one’s arguing with that, Jack,” rumbled Filthy Ike. “I keep my promises too. We will return, my friend.”
In the morning they would set out, none of them dreaming of the adventures that lay ahead.
Next: The Born Again Ogres of the Blinding Light
