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Story Hour
The Fall of Civilization
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 4836690" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>In the heat of midsummer, the piles of bodies scattered everywhere for miles are starting to rot, to swell with percolating juices. Clouds of flies gather, swarming over everything. Rats and vultures feast, as they have done for years in the vicinity of Fandelose.</p><p></p><p>Amongst the corpses, fitful, wary groups of starving goblins and kobolds slice the less-rotten chunks of flesh before scampering back into the cover of the nearby hills or forests, feeding on rotting meat, many of them becoming ill and then being slain and eaten as fresh meat by their fellows. </p><p></p><p>Under the blazing sun, some corpses stir to unlife, animated spontaneously by the heavy pall of death that still blankets the area. </p><p></p><p>Within the city, the people continue to celebrate, but the mass of rot and filth surrounding them will have to be dealt with- or else plague will come.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The defenders of Fandelose have earned their leave. In thirds, the military is given a month off. Our heroes are amongst the first wave. Free time, to do with as they will, for a month! It has been a lifetime since they had such leisure!</p><p></p><p>Kratos tells his friends, “I’m done. We’ve protected Fandelose, and I’m married with kids now. I can’t be running around risking my neck every day anymore.”</p><p></p><p>“I understand,” nods Hkatha. “You have responsibilities now.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes.” Kratos sighs. “Good luck. Come over for dinner sometime.” A pause. “I’m going to talk to General Argos next week and resign my commission.”</p><p></p><p>The others stare at him without speaking for a moment.</p><p></p><p>“I have kids,” Kratos repeats. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Minus Kratos, the rest of them head out into the rotting battlefield and move quickly towards the command tent, hacking their way through throngs of zombies and worse undead along the way. They are looking for loot, of course, but of greater interest to them is the goblin king Morl, who escaped their attack on the Six-Fingered Hand’s command tent. Once they cut their way to the tent, they look for tracks. </p><p></p><p>Of course, there are thousands of tracks.</p><p></p><p>Heimall scratches his beard. “Well, we know where he started, and we know he’s goblin sized.”</p><p></p><p>“He had nice boots,” recalls Torinn. “Most of the goblin tracks are probably in sandals or barefoot.”</p><p></p><p>“And we know he ran off that way,” gestures Iggy. </p><p></p><p>The party starts a thorough search, and although it takes them several hours, they find a group of tracks that they presume to be Morl’s, accompanied by several other goblin-sized tracks. They set out in hot pursuit, following the tracks until they come to a meeting with another group of tracks- but these are different: hooved, but clearly from an upright creature. “Whatever they are, they’re probably about the size of a bugbear,” muses Vann-La.</p><p></p><p>“It seems like minotaurs fit,” Ligir suggests. </p><p></p><p>They continue along, following the tracks as they head up into the scrub-covered rocky hills to the south. As evening grows deep the party finds a ruin at the end of the trail, with a trap door leading down to a set of wide descending stairs.</p><p></p><p>“Let’s go.” Vann-La hefts her hammer and pushes the trap door open, then leads the descent down a flight of cracked stone stairs. Small rivulets of water run down the stairs’ edge; slime and mold grow on the walls. The others follow close on her heels.</p><p></p><p>At the bottom, the stairs spill into a chamber dominated by a massive statue of a minotaur with a wide-bladed greataxe in its hands. Vann-La raises a hand and halts the party. “There’s blood on that axe,” she murmurs. </p><p></p><p>Cook moves cautiously forward. “Maybe I check it out,” he says, then blanches when he sees the size of the blade. “Oooi,” he groans unhappily.</p><p></p><p>But as he starts to move forward, something moves behind the pedestal that the statue stands upon. A large, growling beast that our heroes instantly recognize as a worg pads into view.</p><p></p><p>And immediately begins to bark loudly.</p><p></p><p>Vann-La curses and springs forward. Voices suddenly rise in a surprised babble from off to the left, and more barking starts coming from <em>both</em> sides, where there are exits from the chamber. </p><p></p><p>As Vann-La rushes towards the visible worg, the great statue sweeps its blade around in a great circle, slashing her with brutal force- but deftly avoiding the worg. Vann-La rolls with the blow, then darts the rest of the way forward to the worg, which she engages with brutal efficiency.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, another worg enters the fray from either side. To the left, the voices have stopped- <em>They were speaking in Goblin,</em> thinks Torinn- and there is no sign of the speakers as of yet. </p><p></p><p>The party moves in, trying to dodge the statue’s blade while bringing the battle to the worgs so that Vann-La is not surrounded and overwhelmed. But the statue’s axe is swift and deadly. </p><p></p><p><em>I must disable that,</em> thinks Cook. He takes a deep breath and then springs forward, under the blade, and darts atop the pedestal to begin his work. </p><p></p><p>Things get more interesting when Heimall tries to skirt the statue around the left side and gets caught by one of the hiding bugbears, who wraps a tight leather cord around his neck and drags him back. Vann-La darts over to aid her friend, but the bugbear uses the warlord as a shield, catching Vann-La’s hammer blow on Heimall’s breastplate. Both of our heroes curse, but Heimall can’t seem to break the strangler’s grip!</p><p></p><p>But the battle quickly turns. Heimall manages to avoid the bugbear’s attempts to use him as a body shield again, and Vann-La brings her hammer into the bugbear’s face, pulping its nose and teeth. With a red wail, the bugbear collapses back against the wall, raising its hands in front of its ruined face. </p><p></p><p>Heimall whirls and buries the point of <em>Throat-Ripper</em> in the bugbear’s chest. </p><p></p><p>The rest of the fight is quick and intense, and in only a few moments, the worgs and the other bugbear have been laid low, and the statue has been disabled by a combination of Cook’s mechanical skill and Torinn and Ligir’s magical ability. </p><p></p><p>“Well, at least they know we’re coming, after that racket,” Torinn says wryly. </p><p></p><p>The party explores the two chambers that the bugbears and worgs came from. To the left is a simple chamber with four bedrolls laid out. One corner of the room has a trash heap in it, consisting mostly of food waste. A few barrels and crates of torches and foodstuffs form a rough wall segregating the trash heap from the rest of the room.</p><p></p><p>To the right, the party finds what is clearly a temple, dominated by an altar with a huge set of horns above it. Ligir whistles. “I wonder what kind of beast <em>those</em> came off of,” he says. The horns are curved like a bull’s, but they are far too large for any bull. Tapering to a razor-sharp point, each horn is as wide as Vann-La’s waist at its widest place. Straightened, each horn might measure seven feet long or thereabouts. The altar itself is a barbaric block of black stone faced with bones, with bloodstains all over it. The whole assembly glows with a ghastly green light.</p><p></p><p>“This is an altar to Baphomet, the demon prince of minotaurs,” pronounces Torinn.</p><p></p><p>“Looks like we were right,” Ligir says. “Maybe Morl has found some new allies.”</p><p></p><p>There are other exits from the central room with the chopper statue: two archways are blocked by curtains and two doors lead out from the wall opposite the stairs. The party decides to investigate the curtained off areas first. The first one appears to be some kind of meeting chamber, with a decent-sized table surrounded by chairs and several stools. Vann-La immediately strides to one of the walls and announces, “There’s a secret door here.”</p><p></p><p>“Those are some sharp elven eyes you have there.” Heimall smiles, clearly impressed. Not much escapes Vann-La’s notice, that’s for sure!</p><p></p><p>The party takes up positions around the secret door. Vann-La opens it, but all that is beyond it is a small 5’x5’ space. Vann-La strides forward and warns, “Stay ready!” And she opens the secret door that- again- she had noted without so much as a glance around.*</p><p></p><p>Then she charges. </p><p></p><p>Beyond the second secret door is a guard room with hobgoblins in it! The first falls in a bloody cloud of bone and flesh when the Kree’s warhammer crashes into his chest. The others rise and draw, but the rest of the party is already pouring in through the secret door. </p><p></p><p>There are shouts and cries from the adjoining room as more hobgoblins stir and try to pull themselves out of their beds, where they were no doubt dreaming of pillaging the people of the Empire. The main direction of combat seems clogged with fighting, so Cook darts around the side- via a passage looks like it leads around to the chamber ahead- and then skids to a stop. </p><p></p><p>“OGRES!” he bellows. “Oi, bad news!” </p><p></p><p>But the pair of ogres are still just barely waking up, bleary-eyed and blinking. There’s no time to think- so Cook hurls shuriken at them, throwing for the eyes in a <em>blinding barrage!</em> Both ogres roar in pain and surprise.</p><p></p><p>The fight is confused, with several foes awake to begin with and a second wave that comes not long after when those that were sleeping have gathered their weapons and risen to their feet. Led by a goblin prince, the goblinoids fight a delaying action while the ogres gather themselves, try to shrug off the blindness and start to move forward.</p><p></p><p>But by then it is virtually too late. The party crashes into the enemy like an avalanche, and the Hand forces fall quickly to their onslaught. The ogres are tougher, but by the time they can see again, Cook has issued stern cuts to both of them, and before more than a few more seconds pass, the fight is over. </p><p></p><p>The party takes a few moments to catch their breaths and heal, although the enemy only left them with a few minor scratches. Then they search the area- it seems to consist of only the ogres’ bedroom, the guard room and the room in which several hobgoblins had been sleeping. In that chamber, a fireplace blazes. There are a few minor personal effects of the goblinoids and ogres, but nothing of real value. </p><p></p><p>The party confirms that the goblin prince they slew in here was <em>not</em> King Morl. “One of his allies, or an heir, perhaps?” speculates Heimall.</p><p></p><p>The party moves back to the entry chamber and pushes through the other curtain. This one leads to a short hallway, that turns to the right at the end and widens (or perhaps spills into a room). Our heroes again advance, and turn the corner.</p><p></p><p>The hallway extends just over 40’ before it opens up into a chamber that the party’s light barely touches. Several alcoves open to either side of the hallway along the way. In the chamber there seems to be some sort of depressed area, for the party can just make out the upper body of a figure standing in the depression.</p><p></p><p>A skeletal figure with three skulls atop its frame.</p><p></p><p>Vann-La immediately begins to rush down the hallway towards it, and it cackles. </p><p></p><p>And ghosts stream out of the alcoves.</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> Our heroes fight for their lives as they try to follow Morl’s Retreat!</p><p></p><p></p><p>*At this point, Vann-La’s passive Perception was a 26; add to that the <em>lantern of revelation</em> or whatever it’s called that Torinn has as an at-will utility that pretty much always gives her a +2 bonus while they’re dungeoneering... well, most of the time, if I’m using appropriate secret door DCs I can pretty much count on the party finding them...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 4836690, member: 1210"] In the heat of midsummer, the piles of bodies scattered everywhere for miles are starting to rot, to swell with percolating juices. Clouds of flies gather, swarming over everything. Rats and vultures feast, as they have done for years in the vicinity of Fandelose. Amongst the corpses, fitful, wary groups of starving goblins and kobolds slice the less-rotten chunks of flesh before scampering back into the cover of the nearby hills or forests, feeding on rotting meat, many of them becoming ill and then being slain and eaten as fresh meat by their fellows. Under the blazing sun, some corpses stir to unlife, animated spontaneously by the heavy pall of death that still blankets the area. Within the city, the people continue to celebrate, but the mass of rot and filth surrounding them will have to be dealt with- or else plague will come. *** The defenders of Fandelose have earned their leave. In thirds, the military is given a month off. Our heroes are amongst the first wave. Free time, to do with as they will, for a month! It has been a lifetime since they had such leisure! Kratos tells his friends, “I’m done. We’ve protected Fandelose, and I’m married with kids now. I can’t be running around risking my neck every day anymore.” “I understand,” nods Hkatha. “You have responsibilities now.” “Yes.” Kratos sighs. “Good luck. Come over for dinner sometime.” A pause. “I’m going to talk to General Argos next week and resign my commission.” The others stare at him without speaking for a moment. “I have kids,” Kratos repeats. *** Minus Kratos, the rest of them head out into the rotting battlefield and move quickly towards the command tent, hacking their way through throngs of zombies and worse undead along the way. They are looking for loot, of course, but of greater interest to them is the goblin king Morl, who escaped their attack on the Six-Fingered Hand’s command tent. Once they cut their way to the tent, they look for tracks. Of course, there are thousands of tracks. Heimall scratches his beard. “Well, we know where he started, and we know he’s goblin sized.” “He had nice boots,” recalls Torinn. “Most of the goblin tracks are probably in sandals or barefoot.” “And we know he ran off that way,” gestures Iggy. The party starts a thorough search, and although it takes them several hours, they find a group of tracks that they presume to be Morl’s, accompanied by several other goblin-sized tracks. They set out in hot pursuit, following the tracks until they come to a meeting with another group of tracks- but these are different: hooved, but clearly from an upright creature. “Whatever they are, they’re probably about the size of a bugbear,” muses Vann-La. “It seems like minotaurs fit,” Ligir suggests. They continue along, following the tracks as they head up into the scrub-covered rocky hills to the south. As evening grows deep the party finds a ruin at the end of the trail, with a trap door leading down to a set of wide descending stairs. “Let’s go.” Vann-La hefts her hammer and pushes the trap door open, then leads the descent down a flight of cracked stone stairs. Small rivulets of water run down the stairs’ edge; slime and mold grow on the walls. The others follow close on her heels. At the bottom, the stairs spill into a chamber dominated by a massive statue of a minotaur with a wide-bladed greataxe in its hands. Vann-La raises a hand and halts the party. “There’s blood on that axe,” she murmurs. Cook moves cautiously forward. “Maybe I check it out,” he says, then blanches when he sees the size of the blade. “Oooi,” he groans unhappily. But as he starts to move forward, something moves behind the pedestal that the statue stands upon. A large, growling beast that our heroes instantly recognize as a worg pads into view. And immediately begins to bark loudly. Vann-La curses and springs forward. Voices suddenly rise in a surprised babble from off to the left, and more barking starts coming from [i]both[/i] sides, where there are exits from the chamber. As Vann-La rushes towards the visible worg, the great statue sweeps its blade around in a great circle, slashing her with brutal force- but deftly avoiding the worg. Vann-La rolls with the blow, then darts the rest of the way forward to the worg, which she engages with brutal efficiency. Meanwhile, another worg enters the fray from either side. To the left, the voices have stopped- [i]They were speaking in Goblin,[/i] thinks Torinn- and there is no sign of the speakers as of yet. The party moves in, trying to dodge the statue’s blade while bringing the battle to the worgs so that Vann-La is not surrounded and overwhelmed. But the statue’s axe is swift and deadly. [i]I must disable that,[/i] thinks Cook. He takes a deep breath and then springs forward, under the blade, and darts atop the pedestal to begin his work. Things get more interesting when Heimall tries to skirt the statue around the left side and gets caught by one of the hiding bugbears, who wraps a tight leather cord around his neck and drags him back. Vann-La darts over to aid her friend, but the bugbear uses the warlord as a shield, catching Vann-La’s hammer blow on Heimall’s breastplate. Both of our heroes curse, but Heimall can’t seem to break the strangler’s grip! But the battle quickly turns. Heimall manages to avoid the bugbear’s attempts to use him as a body shield again, and Vann-La brings her hammer into the bugbear’s face, pulping its nose and teeth. With a red wail, the bugbear collapses back against the wall, raising its hands in front of its ruined face. Heimall whirls and buries the point of [i]Throat-Ripper[/i] in the bugbear’s chest. The rest of the fight is quick and intense, and in only a few moments, the worgs and the other bugbear have been laid low, and the statue has been disabled by a combination of Cook’s mechanical skill and Torinn and Ligir’s magical ability. “Well, at least they know we’re coming, after that racket,” Torinn says wryly. The party explores the two chambers that the bugbears and worgs came from. To the left is a simple chamber with four bedrolls laid out. One corner of the room has a trash heap in it, consisting mostly of food waste. A few barrels and crates of torches and foodstuffs form a rough wall segregating the trash heap from the rest of the room. To the right, the party finds what is clearly a temple, dominated by an altar with a huge set of horns above it. Ligir whistles. “I wonder what kind of beast [i]those[/i] came off of,” he says. The horns are curved like a bull’s, but they are far too large for any bull. Tapering to a razor-sharp point, each horn is as wide as Vann-La’s waist at its widest place. Straightened, each horn might measure seven feet long or thereabouts. The altar itself is a barbaric block of black stone faced with bones, with bloodstains all over it. The whole assembly glows with a ghastly green light. “This is an altar to Baphomet, the demon prince of minotaurs,” pronounces Torinn. “Looks like we were right,” Ligir says. “Maybe Morl has found some new allies.” There are other exits from the central room with the chopper statue: two archways are blocked by curtains and two doors lead out from the wall opposite the stairs. The party decides to investigate the curtained off areas first. The first one appears to be some kind of meeting chamber, with a decent-sized table surrounded by chairs and several stools. Vann-La immediately strides to one of the walls and announces, “There’s a secret door here.” “Those are some sharp elven eyes you have there.” Heimall smiles, clearly impressed. Not much escapes Vann-La’s notice, that’s for sure! The party takes up positions around the secret door. Vann-La opens it, but all that is beyond it is a small 5’x5’ space. Vann-La strides forward and warns, “Stay ready!” And she opens the secret door that- again- she had noted without so much as a glance around.* Then she charges. Beyond the second secret door is a guard room with hobgoblins in it! The first falls in a bloody cloud of bone and flesh when the Kree’s warhammer crashes into his chest. The others rise and draw, but the rest of the party is already pouring in through the secret door. There are shouts and cries from the adjoining room as more hobgoblins stir and try to pull themselves out of their beds, where they were no doubt dreaming of pillaging the people of the Empire. The main direction of combat seems clogged with fighting, so Cook darts around the side- via a passage looks like it leads around to the chamber ahead- and then skids to a stop. “OGRES!” he bellows. “Oi, bad news!” But the pair of ogres are still just barely waking up, bleary-eyed and blinking. There’s no time to think- so Cook hurls shuriken at them, throwing for the eyes in a [i]blinding barrage![/i] Both ogres roar in pain and surprise. The fight is confused, with several foes awake to begin with and a second wave that comes not long after when those that were sleeping have gathered their weapons and risen to their feet. Led by a goblin prince, the goblinoids fight a delaying action while the ogres gather themselves, try to shrug off the blindness and start to move forward. But by then it is virtually too late. The party crashes into the enemy like an avalanche, and the Hand forces fall quickly to their onslaught. The ogres are tougher, but by the time they can see again, Cook has issued stern cuts to both of them, and before more than a few more seconds pass, the fight is over. The party takes a few moments to catch their breaths and heal, although the enemy only left them with a few minor scratches. Then they search the area- it seems to consist of only the ogres’ bedroom, the guard room and the room in which several hobgoblins had been sleeping. In that chamber, a fireplace blazes. There are a few minor personal effects of the goblinoids and ogres, but nothing of real value. The party confirms that the goblin prince they slew in here was [i]not[/i] King Morl. “One of his allies, or an heir, perhaps?” speculates Heimall. The party moves back to the entry chamber and pushes through the other curtain. This one leads to a short hallway, that turns to the right at the end and widens (or perhaps spills into a room). Our heroes again advance, and turn the corner. The hallway extends just over 40’ before it opens up into a chamber that the party’s light barely touches. Several alcoves open to either side of the hallway along the way. In the chamber there seems to be some sort of depressed area, for the party can just make out the upper body of a figure standing in the depression. A skeletal figure with three skulls atop its frame. Vann-La immediately begins to rush down the hallway towards it, and it cackles. And ghosts stream out of the alcoves. [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] Our heroes fight for their lives as they try to follow Morl’s Retreat! *At this point, Vann-La’s passive Perception was a 26; add to that the [i]lantern of revelation[/i] or whatever it’s called that Torinn has as an at-will utility that pretty much always gives her a +2 bonus while they’re dungeoneering... well, most of the time, if I’m using appropriate secret door DCs I can pretty much count on the party finding them... [/QUOTE]
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