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The Whiterock Castle Campaign- Nothing better than a good old sausage in you.
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<blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 4200090" data-attributes="member: 16069"><p>Turn 9. May the Power of Kord flow…ERK!</p><p></p><p>Castle Whiterock</p><p></p><p>And into a great hall, actually not so great anymore, what was once a fine white flagstone floor has become pockmarked, smashed and pitted, and smeared with all manner of foul substances. The ceiling is gone, the sun shines through, the walls once adorned by fine tapestries are now home to crusty rags. </p><p></p><p>To Grungarak’s left is a door, closed, to his right an open archway, ahead a breech in the massive wall of the cliff, into some dark and shadowy underground chamber. Which is where the fleeing monks are heading, two of them are well ahead of the Half-Orc, scrambling out of sight over yet another treacherous looking rubble pile.</p><p></p><p>Alas the third Monk is a little slower.</p><p></p><p>The false monk loses a flip-flop, stumbles and stubs his foot, suddenly pulls up short- hopping, cramp or a tendon problem, Brother Louis’ face a death mask grimace, he has never before felt pain like this.</p><p></p><p>It’s blessedly short lived.</p><p></p><p>Grungarak chops his head off.</p><p></p><p>“Hold mighty Or… I mean Ranger.”</p><p></p><p>Its Ronnie’s voice, Grungarak curtails his pursuit, heads back the way he came and into the false monks former barracks. </p><p></p><p>Brother Trevor, the monk who spilled his stenchpot earlier is swiftly tied to his bed, he’s going nowhere, and Gina will have someone to question.</p><p></p><p>A brief conflab takes place with Grungarak providing the details, dodging out of the chamber into the hall to point out the pile of rubble ahead, the place that the other two monks fled to, a plan is born, well, when I say plan…</p><p></p><p>The foursome burst from their hiding space and head hell-for-leather for the rock pile, aiming to scale the thing at speed and then fall upon their enemies.</p><p></p><p>It doesn’t quite work that way.</p><p></p><p>Only a third of the way there the closed door on the left is suddenly and violently flung open- and standing in the doorway is a man, a cruel and martial looking man.</p><p></p><p>Brother Melchior is the real Monk here, his simple black robes hug his taught frame, tattoos colour his arms, he points then motions- towards Grungarak.</p><p></p><p>“You. Orc.”</p><p></p><p>He motions again, but the ‘Orc’ bit is enough to get the Ranger’s attention, Brother Melchior backs into the room beyond and takes up a fighting stance.</p><p></p><p>Grungarak however is less cautious, he follows the evil Monk in swinging furiously and is met by a fist, and then a kick, and then the fist again- before he knows it the Half-Orc is bleeding and bruised.</p><p></p><p>It’s enough to clear his brain.</p><p></p><p>Brother Melchior backs away again, smiles thinly, and motions once more for the Ranger to attack him.</p><p></p><p>Grungarak rushes forward, axe whirling, swiping, swatting- Melchior grins as he spots his opening, about to deliver another flurry of blows, but too late, Grungarak is only feigning anger, the real Monk kicks thin air.</p><p></p><p>RIPPPPP</p><p></p><p>And has his foot amputated at the ankle.</p><p></p><p>Tries to stand, mouth still agape at the damage done.</p><p></p><p>Slips and totters on his stump.</p><p></p><p>THWACK</p><p></p><p>Grungarak buries his greataxe in Melchior’s chest.</p><p></p><p>HaWWKSPIT</p><p></p><p>Gobs in the dead man’s eye.</p><p></p><p>“Human.” Grungarak delivers with as much contempt as he can muster.</p><p></p><p>Back in the great hall, the three intrepid adventurers scamper up the rubble, which proves a lot harder than they expected, particularly as… as… as… as…</p><p></p><p>“Feckin’ Garl.”</p><p></p><p>Gina looks up, and up, there before them, emerging from the shadow climbing up the opposite rubble slope is a Skeleton, this however is no ordinary Skeleton, the thing is easily eight, maybe nine feet tall, and big with it, with great clawed hands, the size of a bear in fact.</p><p></p><p>“Garl’s power.” Gina screams and presents her holy symbol, to no effect, the thing rumbles on, crests the rubble pile and heads on down to meet the three, who are forced to back away, their footing unsure.</p><p></p><p>“May the Power of Kord flow…ERK!”</p><p></p><p>Ronnie gets a little way into his war cry, and then twists his ankle on a loose stone, which fortunately causes him to duck beneath one of the huge Skeletons meatless paws, alas only to rise at the ideal moment for the creature’s other paw to slice into him.</p><p></p><p>The Paladin of Kord lurches suddenly right, blood fills his eyes, his mouth; the flesh on his face and neck ripped, almost shredded.</p><p></p><p>He stumbles, crumples, and crunches into the stones of the rubble pile- lies still.</p><p></p><p>“Grungarak.” Gina screams, and sure enough the Half-Orc comes running.</p><p></p><p>The Gnome backs further away, leaving Twiglet to face the great beast alone, Gina mumbles prayers presents her holy symbol of Garl Glittergold- the creature comes again, slashing wildly, her turning attempt has no effect.</p><p></p><p>CRUNCH</p><p></p><p>And is met in kind, Twiglet’s axe smashes almost all of one arm, bones hang limp and useless, the creatures mouths a silent scream and bears down upon the Dwarf, who’s caught a glancing blow, enough however to send him skittering back as Grungarak joins the line.</p><p></p><p>Axes swirl, swing and dance, and in seconds the awesome Skeleton is reduced to so much splintered bone.</p><p></p><p>Grungarak is quick off the mark, he grabs the fallen Paladin, and with hand signals issues orders to retreat, into the chamber he recently fought and killed Brother Melchior, the evil Monk.</p><p></p><p>Twiglet slams the door shut behind them, then opens it again, a crack, keeps an eye on the great hall. Gina meanwhile is quickly to work, Ronnie’s still breathing, her healing hands knead the spot where the Owlbear Skeleton’s blow penetrated, bones mend, skin knits- as good as new.</p><p></p><p>The chamber has a mostly intact ceiling, obviously someone of import lives here. A flickering torch in a sconce provides dim illumination; the north wall is rounded with a door situated in the middle. Pushed against the west wall is a wooden desk and positioned in the northeast corner is a fancy bed with an overstuffed mattress. An iron pot lies discarded along the east wall. </p><p></p><p>OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH</p><p></p><p>Ronnie suddenly sits up, takes a gulp of air, like a diver surfacing after a long time under.</p><p></p><p>“Thank you…” The Paladin of Kord whispers in the general direction of the Gnome.</p><p></p><p>GRRRRRRRRRRIND</p><p></p><p>As the wall ahead suddenly pivots and opens.</p><p></p><p>Stepping out of the previously hidden portal is an armed, and armoured, Orc- the size of which… well, easily a foot taller than Grungarak who’s six feet eight, the creature growls a challenge and attacks.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Goonalan, post: 4200090, member: 16069"] Turn 9. May the Power of Kord flow…ERK! Castle Whiterock And into a great hall, actually not so great anymore, what was once a fine white flagstone floor has become pockmarked, smashed and pitted, and smeared with all manner of foul substances. The ceiling is gone, the sun shines through, the walls once adorned by fine tapestries are now home to crusty rags. To Grungarak’s left is a door, closed, to his right an open archway, ahead a breech in the massive wall of the cliff, into some dark and shadowy underground chamber. Which is where the fleeing monks are heading, two of them are well ahead of the Half-Orc, scrambling out of sight over yet another treacherous looking rubble pile. Alas the third Monk is a little slower. The false monk loses a flip-flop, stumbles and stubs his foot, suddenly pulls up short- hopping, cramp or a tendon problem, Brother Louis’ face a death mask grimace, he has never before felt pain like this. It’s blessedly short lived. Grungarak chops his head off. “Hold mighty Or… I mean Ranger.” Its Ronnie’s voice, Grungarak curtails his pursuit, heads back the way he came and into the false monks former barracks. Brother Trevor, the monk who spilled his stenchpot earlier is swiftly tied to his bed, he’s going nowhere, and Gina will have someone to question. A brief conflab takes place with Grungarak providing the details, dodging out of the chamber into the hall to point out the pile of rubble ahead, the place that the other two monks fled to, a plan is born, well, when I say plan… The foursome burst from their hiding space and head hell-for-leather for the rock pile, aiming to scale the thing at speed and then fall upon their enemies. It doesn’t quite work that way. Only a third of the way there the closed door on the left is suddenly and violently flung open- and standing in the doorway is a man, a cruel and martial looking man. Brother Melchior is the real Monk here, his simple black robes hug his taught frame, tattoos colour his arms, he points then motions- towards Grungarak. “You. Orc.” He motions again, but the ‘Orc’ bit is enough to get the Ranger’s attention, Brother Melchior backs into the room beyond and takes up a fighting stance. Grungarak however is less cautious, he follows the evil Monk in swinging furiously and is met by a fist, and then a kick, and then the fist again- before he knows it the Half-Orc is bleeding and bruised. It’s enough to clear his brain. Brother Melchior backs away again, smiles thinly, and motions once more for the Ranger to attack him. Grungarak rushes forward, axe whirling, swiping, swatting- Melchior grins as he spots his opening, about to deliver another flurry of blows, but too late, Grungarak is only feigning anger, the real Monk kicks thin air. RIPPPPP And has his foot amputated at the ankle. Tries to stand, mouth still agape at the damage done. Slips and totters on his stump. THWACK Grungarak buries his greataxe in Melchior’s chest. HaWWKSPIT Gobs in the dead man’s eye. “Human.” Grungarak delivers with as much contempt as he can muster. Back in the great hall, the three intrepid adventurers scamper up the rubble, which proves a lot harder than they expected, particularly as… as… as… as… “Feckin’ Garl.” Gina looks up, and up, there before them, emerging from the shadow climbing up the opposite rubble slope is a Skeleton, this however is no ordinary Skeleton, the thing is easily eight, maybe nine feet tall, and big with it, with great clawed hands, the size of a bear in fact. “Garl’s power.” Gina screams and presents her holy symbol, to no effect, the thing rumbles on, crests the rubble pile and heads on down to meet the three, who are forced to back away, their footing unsure. “May the Power of Kord flow…ERK!” Ronnie gets a little way into his war cry, and then twists his ankle on a loose stone, which fortunately causes him to duck beneath one of the huge Skeletons meatless paws, alas only to rise at the ideal moment for the creature’s other paw to slice into him. The Paladin of Kord lurches suddenly right, blood fills his eyes, his mouth; the flesh on his face and neck ripped, almost shredded. He stumbles, crumples, and crunches into the stones of the rubble pile- lies still. “Grungarak.” Gina screams, and sure enough the Half-Orc comes running. The Gnome backs further away, leaving Twiglet to face the great beast alone, Gina mumbles prayers presents her holy symbol of Garl Glittergold- the creature comes again, slashing wildly, her turning attempt has no effect. CRUNCH And is met in kind, Twiglet’s axe smashes almost all of one arm, bones hang limp and useless, the creatures mouths a silent scream and bears down upon the Dwarf, who’s caught a glancing blow, enough however to send him skittering back as Grungarak joins the line. Axes swirl, swing and dance, and in seconds the awesome Skeleton is reduced to so much splintered bone. Grungarak is quick off the mark, he grabs the fallen Paladin, and with hand signals issues orders to retreat, into the chamber he recently fought and killed Brother Melchior, the evil Monk. Twiglet slams the door shut behind them, then opens it again, a crack, keeps an eye on the great hall. Gina meanwhile is quickly to work, Ronnie’s still breathing, her healing hands knead the spot where the Owlbear Skeleton’s blow penetrated, bones mend, skin knits- as good as new. The chamber has a mostly intact ceiling, obviously someone of import lives here. A flickering torch in a sconce provides dim illumination; the north wall is rounded with a door situated in the middle. Pushed against the west wall is a wooden desk and positioned in the northeast corner is a fancy bed with an overstuffed mattress. An iron pot lies discarded along the east wall. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH Ronnie suddenly sits up, takes a gulp of air, like a diver surfacing after a long time under. “Thank you…” The Paladin of Kord whispers in the general direction of the Gnome. GRRRRRRRRRRIND As the wall ahead suddenly pivots and opens. Stepping out of the previously hidden portal is an armed, and armoured, Orc- the size of which… well, easily a foot taller than Grungarak who’s six feet eight, the creature growls a challenge and attacks. [/QUOTE]
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