D&D 5E Tales From The Awning Pothole

[BoldItalic]

Dutifully obeying orders, the dozen or so hobgoblin under-officers followed their captain into the mess hall. At the far end, a large map had been set up on an easel and they all gathered around to study it. None of them looked up at the rafters. Why would they?

Because Inannyunot had flown up to the roof and was sitting comfortably waiting for them, that's why. He had conjured the fake map into existence a few minutes earlier, after emerging from the cellars in the kitchen area and, with Albert's help, swiftly dispatching the orc cooks who were preparing night breakfast. Indeed, Albert and Ha! were still in the kitchens because it appeared that Iggy had a great liking for sausages and refused to leave until all two hundred had been gobbled up. *Croon! Burp!*

As I said, none of the hobgoblins looked up at the rafters and so they really, really, weren't expecting to be killed en masse by the fireball that suddenly erupted from Inannyunot's fingers. The hobgoblin captain was quite annoyed too as, with badly-burned hands, be started to beat out the flames that engulfed his uniform. The second fireball that killed him as well was really quite unfair. But what can you do?

A little later, all of our heroes met up at the prearranged rendezvous in the inner courtyard of the keep, and everyone congratulated each other on how brilliantly the plan had succeeded. Except it hadn't. The orcs in the parade ground had collectively realized that (a) their officers were all dead, (b) the big gate was open, (c) they were orcs, and (d) orcs are chaotic evil. They streamed out of the gate and down the snow-covered trail to go on the rampage on the ski slopes, which was the exact opposite of what the plan was intended to achieve and left Ruined Abbey even worse off than before.

Oops.

High up in his cramped room, Bar-De-Door gave an evil cackle as he packed a suitcase ready to leave. "Losers!" he shouted. "Couldn't organize a burial in a graveyard!"

 

[rgoodbb]

Steven Sea-gull had earned his way into catering primarily through the beauty of merrangs. Eggs were fantastic. Eggs and knives really. Steve the Orc had excelled at knife fighting, but his omelettes and scrambled eggs were far too divine to ignore. It was as if his lord god Gruumsh has placed him here on earth to give the last feast.

In his time, Steven the Orc had survived a grand total of fifteen fireballs. Two of which had just been released upon him. He had taken the frying eggs feeling, the burning sensation, the scolding, and the poaching. But damned if he was not a Flambe Chef. This was his favored terrain, Fire was his favoured enemy. His immunity was his Muse. Fire was in his belly and fire was upon his steel twin blades.

He arose from the scorched and blackened preparation tables, the chopping boards and the sinks. He dusted off his companions; the sous-chefs and the servers. As he arose, tables and other charred furniture tumbled from his form. He was Hard to kill. The twin bladed Scorch-Assassin had been born. De-Door acknowledged him with a laugh and a smirk. The Burning Blade had been born. Now..............What to do with him...........

 

[BoldItalic]

Believing they were alone in the Keep, the party made themselves comfortable in a side room near the great hall, that they guessed must have been an office used by the hobgoblin chief. A fire burned in the grate of a massive stone fireplace and the flickering flames gave off a comforting warmth. It was agreed that Tippy and Inannyunot could take a full eight hours of rest to recover their spell slots while the others took turns to stay awake. Jones requisitioned some bunk beds and blankets and they all made themselves comfortable. "Well done, Jones," said Tippy approvingly, "You'll make Quartermaster Sergeant yet!"

Ha! spent an hour teaching baby Iggy to sing the songs that hobbit children sing and to plane-shift, just in little hops to start with, before declaring it was bed-time for sleepy little spectators.

Tasha and ClaW took first watch, stationed in the passage outside the door. They chatted quietly while the others slept inside.

Somewhat unexpectedly an orc came round the corner, whistling cheerfully. He was wearing a rather grubby cook's apron and carrying a tray of hot food, in the form of what looked like kebabs. "Room Service!" he announced.

Tasha barred the way with her halberd. There was something not quite right, here. The fort was supposed to be deserted and they hadn't ordered room service. Also, there was a smell of burning and it didn't seem to be coming from the food. But she was on sentry duty, so she did what any sentry would do. "Password?" she challenged.

There was a moment's hesitation from the cook. A little too slow and a little too quick to be just right, thought ClaW perceptively. Something was suspicious.

"Et doner ferentes!" replied the orc, improvising wildly.¹

This was obviously the wrong answer, so Tasha told him to put the tray down and wait. ClaW nibbled a corner of the food and immediately spat it out. "Poison!" he signalled by waving his claws in a way that Tasha secretly understood. She flourished her halberd ready to strike but The Burning Blade, for as you will undoubtedly have guessed it was he, fled with a surprising turn of speed. Tasha did not pursue but stayed alert at her post.

ClaW put his head inside the door and attracted Albert's attention. When he learned what had just happened, Albert decided to forego his rest and do some stealthy prowling around to see where the orc had gone and what he was up to.

He hadn't gone far, when ....

---

¹ Latin: "(St)even when bearing a kebab". He was surprisingly well-educated for a cook, had taught himself Latin and had been reading Virgil's Aeneid in his spare time. He was afraid of Greek, though. reference

 

[rgoodbb]

He hadn't gone far, when ....

....he had only taken three steps, but then took three more, which meant he went farther/further/afar

Perception check/Stealth check, Perception check/Stealth check,Perception check/Stealth check,Perception check/Stealth check,Perception check/Stealth check. Albert was knackered. He had forgot what it was like to be the scout. There were so many checks. Locked door. Trap check was it Investigation or Perception now. It was different every bloomin' time. He listened at the locked door using Perception. Then he checked for traps using Perception. Then he looked through the keyhole using Perception. Damn! It was Investigation this time. As he looked through the keyhole, a searing hot white thin blade thrust through from the other side scorching out his right eye. He howled in pain and backed up to the previous doorway behind him. "Ooh. Did that hurt? Feel the burn!". A low but smooth voice cajoled

The door behind him was barred (a classic Bar De-Door manoeuvre). The floor beneath him was greased up with soap he failed a DC 50 Acrobatics check and dropped to the floor. Scrabbling/Scrambling/Scuttling/Scurrying away from another potentially trapped door he found a nook in the corridor, or was it a cranny? He did a quick History check. It was indeed a cranny. He found another open door and made a quick Insight check: Definitely a Bar De-Door corralling trap. He was not going to be corralled. He heard laughter behind him.

Albert was in a bad way. He did a Medicine check. He was in a bad way. There was another last door next to the open one. It was locked and it hummed with energy. He did an Arcana check. It hummed with energy. Albert was not a strong man but his life was now in danger he charged the door (I'm not going there with that joke. This is serious). An Athletics check later and he crashed through although it dislocated his shoulder.

He found himself in a prayer room of the one eyed god. Irony! He did a quick Religion check and swiftly found a back room. The door was of course locked. Thieves Tools check. Opened and outside onto the Hippogriff ledge. He locked the door behind him with another check. Bar and Steven were the other side. He could hear them. He tried and bit of Blu/Deception. Didn't work. Persuasion. Didn't work. Intimidation. Didn't work. He got on the Hippogriff, made an Animal Handling check and flew out........and straight down. Why was this not working? Nature check. He was not an Orc. How would an Orc sit in the saddle. He tried to mimic that. Performance.

This was better. Albert was controlling the beast. There was something sticking out of the saddlebag. He made a grab for it and the beast nipped at him. He had to do this subtly. One Sleight of Hand check later and he had it. A Rod. Albert aimed for a window and rammed his mount right through it.

The grand window imploded shattering glass all over some resting adventurers. The Hippogriff died in the impact but Albert had survived. (No Survival check required).

"I bet that took some skill." muttered Tippy

"Not half."

"What took you so long?"

"I had to Check on something." Albert fumbled in his tunic. The Rod was still there...................

 

[BoldItalic]

Tippy examined Albert. He was bad, and not in a good way.

"It will need a Lesser Restoration to fix your eye," said Tippy. "I can't do it right now, but I can prepare the spell in the morning. You'll be fine. Get some rest. I'll ask Tasha to double-shift and cover your watch. Then I'm going back to sleep."

"Thanks, boss. Any idea what this Rod might be? It looks like some sort of mace. More your province than mine."

"No, but well done for snatching it. Keep it until morning, then we can identify it properly. Goat can probably find it in a book."

"There are two of them, boss."

"Hmm? Two Rods?"

"No, two people. The orc that Tasha stopped, and another one. A madman. He's dangerous."

"So are we, lad, so are we."

Time passed and during the night the room grew colder as the fire in the hearth burned low. Inannyunot woke early and began to prepare his spells for the coming day but not before using every wizard's favourite cantrip: Summon Breakfast.

Tippy woke refreshed and prayed to Isis. He was rewarded with Lesser Restoration amongst other useful spells including, rather surprisingly, Remove Curse. He fixed up Albert as good as new and then debriefed him about his hair-raising excursion. "I believe the madman you encountered is the same one who has been frustrating us all along," mused Tippy. "Sooner or later, there will have to be a show-down."

When Inannyunot was ready, Albert showed him the Rod. After consulting various tomes and making a few magical passes over it, the wizard came to the conclusion that it was very powerful but possibly broken, which would be very unusual, or possibly cursed. The only way to find out was for someone to volunteer to attune to it, and that might be risky. "Not me," said Albert quickly. "Cursed maces are not my thing, you know?"

Tippy fiddled with some coins. He was casting Augury. "I think it is alright, the signs are very favourable. Do you want me to try? I've been granted Remove Curse so if the worst comes to the worst, I can probably detach myself from it."

There was general consent that Tippy was the right man for the job, so he settled down to meditate on the Rod, while the others guarded the passage outside and chatted amongst themselves. After about an hour, he called them in. His voice shook with emotion. "It's the Fortin of Athax," he announced, "It's not cursed and and it has some pretty fearsome powers but I can't unlock them all without going on a special Quest to find The Slaven of Estramos. Meanwhile, it's a +2 Mace of Rulership."

"What's The Slaven of Estramos?" asked Tasha, reasonably enough.

"I have no idea. It didn't tell me."

"We might find something about it in the Castle Feece library," suggested Inannyunot.

"Good idea, but we have a few things to attend to first. We have to sort out the situation here with the madman and the orcs to get Abbey back her livelihood, then I have to get back to Southborough Castle and tell Cholmondeley about Terri and Ballnard. After that, everyone is free to go their own way if they wish."

"You don't get rid of us that easily."

"Thank you. Now ..."

Tippy broke off abruptly. "What was that?"

---

• Tippy (Cleric-6; 51hp; Hammer, Oyster Shell, The Fortin of Athax {+2 Mace of Rulership}, 17 g.p.) Inspiring Leader.
• Inannyunot (true name ₼₼₼₼₼₼₼₼, aka Goat) (Wizard-6 Conjurer; 32hp; 3x/day headbutt attack; books, clay tablet, Oyster Shell)
• Albert (Sinister Thief-6; 39hp; 3 daggers, +2 Club of Bluntness, 26 g.p., TotM pole, funny bone) Dungeon Delver
• Tasha (Half-Orc/Half-Orc Fighter-5 Battlemaster; 59hp; Versatile Double Halberd +1 of Dragon Summoning, Sling, 17 g.p.) Heavy Armor Master
• Ha! Fling! (Hobbit of The Planes; three stones, griffon feather hat, 17 g.p.)
• Igitur (aka Iggy; Baby Beholder)
• ClaW (Lobster; Tippy's ex-familiar; Boomerang) Magic Initiate
• Micromanage (aka Mike; ClaW's familiar; Miniature Human Wizard-½; Knobbly Staff, Pointy Hat)
• Jones (Quartermaster Sergeant) Stores and Requisitions

 

[rgoodbb]

Tippy broke off abruptly. "What was that?"

There were some bangs and rumblings deep below the fort.

The group nervously headed down to the cellars. BANG BUNGLE BASH! The noises continued. BINGLE BLOCK BLAHLALA.

Ha! espied the room and found a dumb waiter. She asked him what all the noise was about but got no response. Next she found a deaf leopard and asked it the same, but almost got eaten up as the poor startled cat hadn't heard her creep up. Last she found three blind mice who told the tale. There was a stone giant below the fort and it had to be kept fed or it would break out and destroy everything. The mice told of a hatch: a lift on a pulley system situated next to the dumb waiter. food would be sent down to appease this giant.

Tippy, on hearing all this studied the small lift while absently stroking the deaf leopard. It was tiny. (The lift not the leopard). He looked at Ha! She would not fit in there, but they had to stop the giant. If it got out it would ravage and ruin the surrounding region.

He had a thought. ClaW, his old familiar, had turned out to be a damned fine leader in his own right. He was so proud. He would send ClaW, his Familiar Mike, and Iggy the Spectator to deal with this stone giant menace. Meanwhile He and the rest of the party would hunt down the two evil dudes if they were still here or go after the ski patrol orcs.

The lobster, the mini-wizard and the baby abomination entered the lift. Claw pulled down the hatch and then started the pulley down, all the while wondering What do stone giants eat............

 

[BoldItalic]

Emerald was having a bad-hair day. Her morning coffee hadn't arrived and she was always useless until she had her first cup of coffee. It was no good even starting on the minotaur she was adding to her rock carving depicting The Myths of the Middle Minoan III Period and as for working on the red and white fresco behind the minotaur, well, she might as well sit on her hands and chew gravel. Oh! It was so exasperating! What was wrong with those dream-world creatures who called themselves orcs? Didn't they understand about COFFEE ? She had told the often enough. It was i-m-p-o-r-t-a-n-t.

There was a rumbling and squeaking from the tiny kitchen lift. At last! Coffeeeeee!

But it wasn't. It was three impossible dream-worlders. Oh boy! I'm hallucinating! she decided. One was some kind of stone scorpion, one was a ball of goo with eye stalks like a snail, and the other was an impossibly tiny man. Men were usually tiny, but this one was positively microscopic. Even the drug-crazed Cretans couldn't have dreamed up stuff like this bizarre trio.

"Good morning, madam, I'm Mike," said the microscopic man. As a bonus action, he politely took off his pointy hat and a flock of white doves flew out.

"Corny," said Emerald dismissively. "WHERE'S MY COFFEE?"

Mike looked taken aback for a moment, but he reached into his hat and produced a very tiny cup of coffee. "Err ..." he began, "I suppose I could do an Enlarge spell on this, but you would have to drink if quickly, before it wore off?"

"Useless!" screamed Emerald."Go and get my COFFFEEE !!!"

Up until now, baby Iggy had been quiet, timidly hiding behind ClaW. "Cross lady is too big," Iggy crooned. "Iggy fix." An eye-stalk flashed momentarily a few times and something amazing happened. Emerald shrank to be the same size as Mike.

"What have you done?" Emerald screamed. "I'm hallucinating! I've gone all Alice in Wonderland! My brain has gone rocky FOR LACK OF COFFEE!"

Mike handed her the cup of coffee he had conjured up a few moments ago; she snatched it greedily and swallowed it in three gulps. Then she waited for the caffeine to work. Which it did. Sort of. Insofar as she calmed down and felt better able to face the world. But she was still tiny.

"Thank you, Mike," she said in a much more polite voice, "I needed that. And put your hat on dear, we're in company."

Mike meekly did so. When a gentleman with a Strength of 3 (it was his dump stat) meets a lady with a Strength of 23 (she might be tiny now, but she was still a stone giant nevertheless), there can be no doubt as to who is going to be wearing the trousers in the relationship. He had a prophetic vision of Emerald moving into his pocket dimension, changing the curtains and making him clean the saucepans. He wondered if somehow the rules about familiars didn't allow it but he wasn't too hopeful.

Meanwhile ...

 

[rgoodbb]

Meanwhile ...

...At a supposed maximum speed of roughly 23 mph, Sergeant Jones: from requisitions, was in ecstasy. The V22 Superslider Skis. did indeed outpace the BStaar-Plus by about a rate of one foot. He was very proud. They were rapidly closing on this orc ski-patrol below.

Shortly before them was a wooded canyon, the perfect place for an ambush, Albert thought. He communicated his thoughts to his leader Tippy.

Tippy responded in the way only Tippy could whilst skiing downhill in full armour and with a dexterity score of 06 and in very fast ski's........WAAAAAAYAAAH-WAAAAAAA- YEEEEEEAAAAAAHAAAAAHWOOOOOOWYEEEEEEHAAAAAAAH-No-No-No-No-No-YEEEEEHAAAAAAHWOOOO-WOOOOHAH-LEFT-LEFT-................................................................. .LEFT-....STRAFE.......THAT.........WAS..........CLOSE....OH....NO.....WHOA....WHOA.....WAAAAAAAAAAH-WAAAAAAA-EEEEEEEEEH. and so it continued down the slopes.

In fact Tippy with his plate armour, found himself at the base of the slopes before his enemy. Aided by Sergeant Jones from requisitions, he set a little trap for the Orc-Ski-Patrol.

Meanwhile Mike was Prestidiginating like mad to try to convince Emerald that the liquid that they were giving him was in fact real. There was one slight problem........................

 

[BoldItalic]

Snag-Tusk was quite exhilarated as he sped down the ski slope with his fellow orcs. Ahead of them was a makeshift barrier of logs but they could easily ski around it, so what was the point of that? Behind the barrier, apparently defending it, was a group of figures wearing helmets and breastplates, equipped with swords and shields. Their equipment looked shiny and new, but the figures were quite obviously dummies make from snow. Even orcs have can tell the difference between a man and a man-shaped pile of snow. So again, what was the point? Laughing, the orcs demolished the barrier, knocked down the snowmen and started looting the equipment, which was better quality than their own.

"Now?" asked Goat.

"Now," confirmed Tippy.

It is perfectly possible for an orc to survive a fireball if he makes his Dex save (fair chance) and you roll high-ish for hit points and low-ish for damage. It's even possible to survive the second one that follows six seconds later if he makes both saves and you roll really, really low for damage both times although the chances of it happening randomly are pretty much infinitesimal. Nevertheless, the dice gods decreed that it was Snag-Tusk's lucky day. Inannyunot had never rolled sixteen 1's in a row before and sincerely hoped he never would again.

Alone among his weaker comrades, Snag-Tusk was still standing and was definitely hostile. He saw the idiot in clanking plate armour advancing from one side and someone with a halberd advancing from the other. This was more like it. These were honourable opponents. He would fight them both. He flung a javelin at the halberdier and was pleased when it flew straight as a javelin and scored a hit. The halberdier cursed like a woman, which he wasn't expecting. Then he drew his greataxe and moved towards the idiot.

Tippy and Snag-Tusk traded blows. It was a fair fight with Tippy having a DPR of 4.4 with his magic mace against Snag-Tusk's 4.0 but Snag-Tusk was down to 12hp against Tippy's 51hp so it was only a matter of three rounds before Tippy was the inevitable victor, albeit down by 12hp himself.

"Hey, DM!" protested Snag-Tusk, "I'm only CR-½, you know! I survive two fireballs by the skin of my teeth and you put me up against a sixth level character with a plus two magic weapon? What is this, Murder-An-Orc week? You're supposed to be on my side!"

"He's got a point," suggested Tippy. "I'll cut the poor guy some slack."

Tippy did something surprising. He stablised the orc. Then he used his Channel Divinity - Read Thoughts feature to make contact with the unconscious orc's mind, which was thinking of nothing, and plant a suggestion in it for when the orc eventually woke up in 1d4 hours' time. Here is what Tippy suggested

Gruumsh has brought me back from death to serve him. I must convince all the other orcs from the keep that the ski slopes are only to be used at night. During the day, they are reserved for the humans from the town and off-limits to orcs. I will do this. I have no choice. It is my destiny. I am Snag-Tusk the Reborn.

 

[rgoodbb]

Iggy was fighting for his/her (how does one sex a baby beholder?.....Answers on a postcard to this thread) life. The Shrink beam had worn off and it couldn't do another today. Emmy (As she had suggested they call her) now had little to no coffee in her again and became grouchy, then angry, then aggressive and then violent. Iggy had just dodged a moss (not the druid/ranger of previous but interlinked threads) covered bolder as it smashed into a wall behind it and it's lemon juice ray/beam (did we ever distinguish between these?) was proving ineffective. It knew one of its other eyestalks had granted a wish to sgt Jones to become the Provider. (yes he was already the provider small-case but now he was The Provider or even more dramatic: The Providor.) What did the last ray do? Please do something.

Mike thought swiftly. (and after that word left his head he tried a different thought.)

Something (and I mean everything) was going on here. Thought Claw. all his and his party's thoughts were being bracketed ((and by bracketed I mean just this)). There was foul play about. "Duck!" ClaW screamed as a poultry boulder grazed Mike. "Move faster this is no mere game."

High above, the mysterious Aarakocra Warlock ceased with the mind-games and disappeared into the shadows..............for now.