The never ending story of ...

[BoldItalic]

DM: Well, It’s like this…… you know when Jeli rolled a d7 and got 2⅞ ? Well, we should have paid more attention because had we but realised it, at that moment the multiverse was riven in twain. Snappy and the others are simultaneously dead and not dead.

What? So I'm simultaneously playing Od the Bard and the Crimson Cavalier? Two PC's each? So what happens to Snappy?

He is your horse, Brocollin. Everything has an analogue on the other side.

So what's the analogue of this Ragash creature, on this side ?

I think she was Dotti the medusa.

Okay, then what about the Phase Rider and the gnomes and the fifty tons of gold? Where do they fit in?

They are there, you just haven't encountered them yet.

You're homebrewing all this, aren't you? This isn't in the Starter Set at all.

It is in my copy. I've got the Schrodinger version. It comes in a box that is simultaneously open and not open. Shall we continue with the game?

 

[rgoodbb]

Shall we continue with the game?

….urhm…..I mean…..I guess….but how do I know whom I’m playing

How don’t you know who you are not playing?

My head hurts. Snappy is that really you?

Brocollin whinnied and started to do keepy-uppies with a football. He was on seventeen in a row and had so far impressively used three of his hooves.

Yeah, that’s Snappy alright. But it isn’t. This Schrodinger is really weird. I wish I could cast dis-entanglement on my brain.

At this point Nord offered up his new furry familiar to Od to help soothe his brain. The feline wrapped itself snug around Od’s neck and almost instantly snoozed. It settled so well, it could almost be mistaken for dead. All in all though, Od felt a little better.

They collected the supply crates from the nearby cave, loaded them on a wagon pulled by Snappy/Brocollin, and trundled them down towards the settlement of Phandelver. It was at this point that the DM felt the necessary, mandatory urge to read a pre-prepared script:

“The rutted track emerges from a wooded hillside, and you catch your first glimpse of Phandalin…”

“..Delver.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“You said Phandalin. You meant Phandelver.”

“No, no. It’s called Phandalin. The town, that is.”

“Then why is the title Lost mines of Phandelv….Y’know what? I don’t care. Doesn’t matter. Carry on. Please.”

“…your first glimpse of Phandalin. The town consists of….

 

[BoldItalic]

The town consists of…. thirty or forty burned-out buldings, mostly reduced to their stone foundations, charred timbers and piles of still-hot ash. More old ruins ....

"Hold on," interjected the Crimson Bardalier, "This isn't how it's supposed to be. We defeated Ragash, didn't we? Before she could destroy the village?"

"'Sright," grunted his friend, Nordred the Sorceranger, "We saved the village, we did. Bunch of heroes, we are. Who dun this?"

That's for you to find out. I hope you have all taken Investigation?

"Dunno. Jeli's the clever one. Have we taken Invest-what he said, Jeli?"

"Of course," came the murmured reply from across the trail. It was spoken by a slender half-elven woman who was holding an orb to her eye and squinting through it. "I see a village of simple log buildings, children playing on the town green, that sort of thing. The burning is an illusion. You must disbelieve it."

"Looks real enough to me," announced a short, stocky but nonetheless dashing figure by her side. "But I took Wisdom as a dump stat, so what do I know?"

"if it's an illusion, we need to find who cast it and make them stop."

"I vote we start at the inn and buy the locals a few rounds of drinks."

"Which pile of ash is the inn?"

"It's that one over there, by the corner of the green."

"Right. Are we agreed? We go to the inn."

In the centre of the town stands a newly-burned down roadhouse. The common room is filled with skeletons nursing mugs of bier who eye you curiously as you enter ...

 

[rgoodbb]

In the centre of the town stands a newly-burned down roadhouse. The common room is filled with skeletons nursing mugs of bier who eye you curiously as you enter ...

...You look down beneath your feet and the wooden floor has been all but burned away, yet you stand upon solid nothing with the sound of a creak. You look down and espy the cellar and the rats but you are walking within two worlds.

"Whoa. Jeli. You wanna take this one?"

"Why me you're the bard the face as you like to say."

"No, no that's the Sorcerer or even the Paladin. We're all Charisma high."

"I haven't been Charisma High since military academy training." Pondered Sergeant Herewulf. "Wait a minute. These images we see before us are not real, we know that, but they have been real, and then forgotten. Yes forgotten. As Champion of the Forgotten it is my duty to make sure that they are remembered, remember? We must make all adventurers and other NPC's see all of this that is otherwise unseen in the murkiness. I have dealt with Necromancers and Enchanters and Witches and Diviners but nere have I come up against something so foul, so obscene, nay I have met my nemesis from a new school of magic most foul; the Schrodinger. A sorcerer with lower morals then the Necromancer, the Schrodinger wills two or more possibilities into existence and then discards, like a child's toy the least favorable leaving them to be endlessly forgotten within the mists of time."

"Uhm Herewulf."

"Nay this evil..."

"Herewulf."

"What?"

"What are you drinking?"

"Well that's just half of the question isn't it? That's just half of any question from now on..."

"Oh boy."

"....I mean whatever possibilities I disregard now will be lost and forgotten and I mustn't do that for I am that opposing champion."

"A shot of Delirium Brandy...In fact, he's gonna' need the bottle. Oh I do love this stuff: The good ol' Red Brand."

"..for if I but take that choice and have not sufficiently proved or disproved the many alternatives they, oh dear gods they..."

"We got the booth buddy. Just slide in there. That's it. Have a sip of this. That's good. Now don't think, just drink. One more sip now. There."

"But....But...."

"That's it buddy. Your good. Your all good."

Slump.......snore.......snore.......snore.......sn

"What's up with him?"

"He's forgotten to see and as such, see's the forgotten." Jested Od.

"It's more like he sees the forgotten and forgot to see." Joked back Nord.

"Boys! Just...just be quiet for a minute. Why do I always have to be the grown up? When do I get to let my hair down and have fun instead of taking care of you lot? Just for once I would like another permanent female PC around."

When in, entered.......

 

[BoldItalic]

When in, entered....... Sam.

"I'm Sam," she announced, tossing back her flaxen tresses, "but you can call me Samantha."

"Welcome to the party, Sam, I'm Jeleneth, but my friends call me Jeli."

"Can I come adventuring with you? It's awfully boring in this village."

"Yes, of course you can," replied Jeli, rummaging in her handbag, "I always carry a spare pregen sheet with me. Here you are, you can be this 4th-Level Rogue."

Sam studied the parchment briefly and exclaimed "Oh! It says here I live with my auntie at Alderlead Farm but that's must be a misprint it's Alderleaf Farm, I'll just scratch it out and write it in."

It had not escaped Od's notice that Sam was a halfling, like him, and not only that, she was a farm girl and it is well known that farm girls automatically understand cooking. He briefly entertained notions of settling down before he somehow remembered that the halfling rogue pregen in the starter set was on the run from a gang of ruffians led by a renegade wizard and that could be inconvenient. Hot dinners are one thing, but a trouble magnet in his hobbit hole would be asking for .. well, trouble.

Sam smiled at Od, laid a firm hand on his and said "And who's this? A handsome bard? I bet you know how to please a girl, don't you?"

"Er ..." stammered Od, thinking Er ... and Er ... more or less at the same time. But he rallied himself and continued suavely "Stick with me, Sam, and I'll show you the ropes. It's a dangerous business, adventurererering. You need an experienced fellow, man of the world, to look after you."

"I'm so glad you're my partner, we can do everything together, can't we? Can you come to tea on Monday? Auntie would love to meet you."

This was going just a little too fast for Od and it didn't help that Nord and Herewulf (who had woken up again) were smirking into their tankards and avoiding eye contact.

At that moment, the door of the inn opened and there was a subtle re-arrangement whereby the villagers who had been inside quietly went out and were replaced by four ruffians in dirty scarlet cloaks who had previously been lurking outside having a quiet smoke. The feminine hand that was holding Od's continued to do so, very firmly, while Sam's other hand somehow seemed to be holding a shortsword with the air of a hand that knew exactly how to use one.

"I'd like you all to roll initiative, please," announced the DM, "Just in case, you understand."

 

[rgoodbb]

When Sam had entered the groups booth, she had spotted the Halfling boy gawping at her, rolled a 18 on insight (not that she really needed to), and immediately set about identifying what coin he had upon him and how she could procure it. She gave him her doeiest eyes and as soon as her scarlet neighbours entered the tavern, she began a long-con. Her sword was out suggesting immediate danger, her hand gripped his suggesting fright. A simple but audible sharp intake of breath and the party knew these ruffians were danger. It couldn't have been more easy.

On initiative count of 25 (Sam had of course rolled her stats. (in private) She was not sticking to any pre-gen offered by Jeli), Sam leapt in, slashed at the nearest one, leapt back out again without receiving an attack of opportunity (They were a little drunk so their reactions were shot). She backed up behind Od and performed a sleight if hand check on his back pockets. She fumbled her roll.

Od was amazed at the speed of this lady Hin. And at the bravery. She charged in and then to top it all she was back and squeezing his bum! in combat! He was dizzy.

Jeli, seeing all this, wondered why she had never really flirted with the boys or they with her. She looked at Nord and Herewulf. Herewulf was in a time of confusion at the moment, so the storm pirate it was then.

"Nord. One must always mind one's muses, don't you think?" The Highborn began the subtle speech of love, after taking a shot at a ruffian.

"Hear wer there maggie straight? Ar thems for the askin'." Nord blasted two of them with a thunderwave, flew up to the ceiling, bashed his head on a beam and landed again.

"Uhm Quite." What did that mean. Was it acceptance, refusal, not right now, or utter gibberish.

"Well Herewulf. Is this better than that boat-full of gold? Is this what you wanted." Shouted Od above the ruckus.

Herewulf was happy. Three more ruffians had entered the fray and were at this very moment carrying him back to slam him against the bar. A tavern brawl, yes. It lifted his heart that he did not have to think on things during combat. He should initiate fights all the time. He would not be able to linger on his gloomy thoughts and responsibilities. Ooof. With the wind knocked out of him, he elbowed down onto one of their necks. This was the life.

Sam put away her sword and engaged the light crossbow. Light! she had dumped Strength to make it look good for her (privately) rolled other stats. As the Rogue leaned the crossbow on Od's shoulders, she tried again with her hand. These folks have a boat full of gold, she had heard the big fella say. This could be a longer con than I thought. I will stay with them for a bit longer. She shot, gave Od a little peck on the cheek and moved her hand inside his studded leather tunic.

Od could take no more. He was in ecstasy. Yet another four ruffians entered the tavern. Pumped and full of vim, it was then when he did something rash, something brave. He..............

 

[BoldItalic]

Pumped and full of vim, it was then when he did something rash, something brave. He..............

... burst into song and, while singing The Acrobat's Chorus from Wriggletto, leapt into the air, swung from the chandelier, did a triple overhand aerial somersault, sprang off the wall behind one of the ruffians, grabbed the man's cloak and folded it over its wearers head thus causing the hapless ruffian to fumble his attack and stab himself in the knee.

And all this whilst unknowingly leaving his coin pouch in Sam's capable hands, where it would be quite, quite safe.

Herewulf, meanwhile, was punching his own assailant repeatedly in the face with his mailed fist with the result that the man's face was becoming less and less bruised and more and more healed. Even a vicious-looking scar that the man had received in childhood started to fade. Herewulf rolled 18 on a Wisdom(Insight) check and the penny finally dropped. "Hey, guys," he shouted, "I can do it! I can Lay on Hands!".

Then the lights went out.

"Who did that?" asked Nord, floating six inches off the ground and trading swear words with a ruffian in a private skill contest to see who know the rudest ones.

"Me," relied Jeli. "I found this orb in my pocket, don't know how it got there, but it seems to do Darkness."

One of the ruffians groaned. "You do realise, madam, that you've ended this encounter right there? Come on, lads, it's lunch time. They're doing mock boar soup back at the hideout. With croutons."

Sam called out to the departing ruffians "Tell Glassteel I said it's not me, it's him. He'll know what it means."

Jeli looked at Sam with interest and rounded on Od, Herewulf and Nord. "You three! Outside! There's going to be girl talk going on in here and it's not for your ears!"

"All right, all right, keep your hair on," grumbled Od.

It was raining outside. Fortunately, the illusion of burnt houses had gone. "What shall we do now?" mused Herewulf, pulling on a waterproof hood to keep his helmet dry.

"Getting out of the rain would be a good idea," suggested Od. "Let's try that old ruined manor house up the hill."

"Or we could try the provisioners," countered Nord. "It's a bit nearer and I'm all out of ten-foot poles. Anyone got any money?"

"Er," said Od, patting his pockets and looking perplexed. "I had ... There was ... Where did I put ..."

"Alright, you've made your point, no need to ham it up."

"No, really, I think I've lost my coin pouch. I must have dropped it during the skirmish."

"Much in it, was there?"

"3d6 gp and 1d4 gemstones worth 100gp each."

"That's a lot of ten-foot poles."

The interior of the trading post was filled with an amalgam of aromas, athough leather and spice, wood and biscuits, chalk and cheese predominated. The trader was a portly gentleman in a leather apron, with a bushy moustache, a slight limp and 'I love Mum' tatooed on his left shoulder, but the three adventurers noticed none of these clues. "What can I get you gentlemen?" he inquired.

"We ..."

 

[rgoodbb]

"We ...require of you good sir two halves of a broken ten foot pole and because it is broken we will pay you 1 copper piece not the usual 5.”

“Fink I woz born yesterday?”

“What? Well hang on there old chap.” Odd put on his best Sunday voice when in trouble and stalling. “Whatever could you possibly mean?”

“I know adventurers when I see em’. Come ere wiv yor mending spell eh?”

“O bugger chaps, I think the game’s up.”

“You want a bunch of these scroll cases to cast continual light in and have permanent torches that you just take the lid off sold to you for the price of 50 gold. Ha! I knowz yor scams. Wot abat the minor illusion cantrip or the prestidigitation eh? Keep em coming, I’ve seen them all. Do you know how many players have played Lost Mines of Phan? Do ya?”

“Come to think of it, I had never really appreciated that. Have you served them all?”

“Oh yes.” He took his hat off and sat down wearily. “Hundreds of thousands of players playing their characters, some for a second or third time. All with their wagons and crates of supplies. All wanting to haggle like we’re in bleedin’ Al Qadim or somink.”

He looked a half broken man

“Do me a fayva’ fellas. Don’t give me another bleedin' cart full of stolen supplies returned. I’ve got wagons and supplies upon wagons and supplies. You should see the back parking lot. Full of bleedin’ wagons these blinkin’ heroes with smug smiles on their faces keep returning. I’ve ‘ad to buy up fields upon fields just to store them all. I don’t know what to do anymore. And d’ya know the worst part? It’ll just reset when you move on and the next bunch of noobeez will come wiv their wagons. I need a break. I need an ‘oliday. I can’t cope no more. I'm at my wit's end.”

“………..…so……..….no ten foot pole then?”
______________________________________________________
…Meanwhile back in the Tavern…

“Do you have any intention of returning that?” Jeli nodded at the purse Sam was secreting.

“Maybe. Well. Actually no.”

“You seem to have a way with men.” Jeli inquired about the price

“You seem to have a boat full of gold.” Sam quoted the price

“I seem to have a proposition for you...” The real haggling began.

 

[BoldItalic]

Seeing the poor man's plight, the three fellows, who were basically good-hearted and sympathetic, put their heads together and came up with a combined hat size of 21¾. "We know what to do," they announced. "You need to come to an arrangment with the Redbrands, for them to steal your cartloads of supplies as fast as they are returned, take them secretly back to Neverwinter by the other road and sell them back to Gundren Rockseeker in time for the next lot of adventurers to turn up on his doorstep. Then you go halves with the Redbrands for whatever he pays them. That way, there's only one actual cartload and it gets recycled."

The trader, whose name was Sellmore Barthen, thought for a while, then nodded. "So, I get a profit, the mob gets a profit, and no one's any the wiser?"

"Yes. It's win-win."

"See, my ol' dad Elmar allus tol' me, if'n it be too good to be true, it be too good to be true. Where's Gundren get the money from, to keep payin' out fur the same cartload over 'n over again?"

"You get the adventurers to steal the gold back from the Redbrands when they attack the hideout, then send them back to Neverwinter to deliver it to Gundren."

We leave the scene in the trading post, where Sellmore was moving around small pieces of cheese (representing carts) and copper pieces (representing sums of gold) as he tried to figure out the flaw in the scheme, and return to the two ladies in the otherwise deserted common room of the inn.

They had their heads together and were both talking at the same time, as ladies do, and to any passing eavesdropper it would appear that they were exchanging idle gossip and nothing of consequence was being said. Assuming the eavesdropper was male, of course. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth and when Sister Garaele came in looking for survivors of the recent combat to heal, she knew instantly what was going on and decided that if anyone was going to be weak, poor and oppressed it might well be Od. Being an agent of the Harpers, she was always on the lookout for someone to recruit and she thought it was just possible that Od might be a suitable candidate. Finding no one to apply her medical skills to, she gave a cheerful wave and left.

"So, no ten foot poles, then," grumbled Nord as they left the trading post. "I s'pose a quarterstaff would do instead. Shall we try the Lionshields place?"

"Good idea," agreed Herewulf. "I need some metal polish anyway."

You can see what's going to happen, can't you? As they were crossing the town green, who should they meet but Sister Garaele? "Oh my," she began, "You do look poor."

"Not at all, madam," replied Hereward, "We own fifty tons of gold. It's just that we've temporarily become separated from it."

"Yes, yes, of course you have. Do you often get these headaches? Why, your hands are as cold as ice!"

"Those are my gauntlets, madam."

"And you must be feeling odd too," she continued, quite oblivious to what Hereward was saying and looking down at the halfling (she was quite tall, for an elf).

"Yes, madam, Od the Bard at your service. Would you care to hear a song? I accept donations."

Nord had not been paying much attention to these exchanges, because he had seen something that the others hadn't ...

 

[rgoodbb]

…he had seen something that the others hadn’t...

…A beautiful bejewelled silver comb gripped tight in the good Sister’s well-manicured hand. It was then that he remembered that last time round, his party had not done the Banshee quest. It had seemed so insignificant at the time. Nord sparkled with static, quite literally. He brimmed with electricity, he hummed with the power of the storm.

“Yo dar Sister. Ya ken me wanna chatter between your ‘Arpers and Abigale? No. Anthea? No. Amanda? What was ‘er na….Agatha! Dems the spoils Agatha! Shall I snatch thee comb off your ‘ands?”

Sister Garael stumbled back aghast, agog and almost agrog (but not quite), that this man had outed her intentions with the ease of a child. “What was this witchcraft? This Sorcery of the mind?”

“Sorcery. Well eye, ya got me goose now danee?”

She ran bumbling and chafing towards the meagre temple, emerging a moment later with a vial. Panicking, she uncorked and unloaded its watery contents upon Nord’s face.

“Ha! I see thee. I’ze gotta freshen up for this bird is it aye?”

The Holy Water had had no effect on this mind-reading creature of a man before her. Fire! It must be fire! The cleric ran around a corner and returned with a lit torch. She thrust it at Nord’s face.

“Nay danna worry yer stacks, me face is dry enough now lassie.”

“I, I don’t quite know what to do now. Sunlight!” And she was off again.

“Quite mad it seems.” Offered Od.

-------------------------------

“So that’s it?”

“Yep.”

“Really? It’s that simple?”

“It really is that simple.”

“I’m going to have to try this out on Nord. You’re sure.”

“Trust me. I’m sure.”

The ladies left the tavern in search of the target of Jeli's affection.

----------------------------

Sister Garael came charging (not that Char-Ging) around the corner hurtling towards Nord pointing a scroll case at him. As she neared, she popped open the end and a Continual Light spell positioned inside shone brightly on Nord’s face like a beam of sunlight.

“Hey. That must be one of Sellmore Barthen’s that he was telling us about.” Stated Herewulf.

“I guess we take the trek by night then? Is that what you are picking up from her?”

Sister Garael was spent, knackered and down-heartened. She dropped the comb and wandered of gibbering into the night. It was this time that the ladies caught up with their fellow party members. It was time. It was time for Jeli to try out her new strategy of wooing the Pirate.

Jeli……