Three Kingdoms and Empire

[the Jester]

Kain leads the party through the jungle, along the trail. The air is thick and humid, pregnant with moisture. The songs of hundreds of brightly-colored birds fill the air. Barouk notes that Kain has removed the armband that he wore, much like the rest of Bors’ men- an armband with the symbol of a longsword.

Insurgents, the dwarf muses.

Eventually the party reaches the Alathion Canal and the trade road that parallels it. They turn to follow it to the right, heading away from the city of Alathion from which they came. Wagons and walking farmers head both directions on the road; traffic is fairly heavy.

“How far do we have to go?” Kifla asks.

“It’s about a day’s journey from where we met,” Kain replies. “We follow the road until we get to the split tree. Be patient. We’ll be there soon enough.”

The group walks along. They pass a dwarf with a plodding beetle bearing many saddlebags stuffed with goods; yet more are netted to its back. A trio of elves walks silently by in the other direction. A family of peasants, chattering about the market. A messenger rides a kocho, a large green flightless foul-tempered carnivorous riding bird. He moves by at a gallop.

The party draws near a wagon driven by a half-elf in green, with eyes of dark jade to match his garb. He glances over at Allyendra. He stares at her, his face changing into a look of surprise. “Excuse me,” he calls.

Ally looks at him. “Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

She answers, “Allyendra. Ally, they call me.”

“You... look familiar.”

Ally blinks. “I don’t recognize you.” She shrugs.

He stares at her intently for a moment. Slowly, he says, “Be careful, Allyendra. Here, I have something for you.” From his belt, he draws a dagger and hands it to her.

“Thank you?” she says, quite puzzled.

“Be careful,” he repeats. “This may help you with a foe you might otherwise not be able to hit.”

“Thank you.” She sounds more sure this time.

The half-elf twitches the reins, and his garen draw his wagon away. “Did you know that guy?” Kain asks.

“I don’t think so,” Ally shrugs.

“Weird.”

Barouk looks the dagger over. “I think it’s adamantine,” he says.

“Hey, look!” Kifla gestures ahead of them. “The split tree!”

Indeed. Another quarter mile sees them to the tree. It is more forked than split, and at it, Kain leads our heroes into the jungle. It begins to rain as Kain and Ally hack a trail through the thick vegetation. “Damn this rain,” Barouk growls.

The party breaks into a clearing, where they encounter a pair of red colored beetles that Ally charges and slays immediately.*

“Well, I didn’t even break a sweat on that one,” Barouk observes.

On the party goes. Another hour, and they stumble upon some of the promised bandits. Through some brush, our heroes spy a figure (they can’t discern much). At the same moment, they hear a voice cry out, “Hey, there’s someone here!”

Battle! The bandits and our heroes move around the brush to engage in combat. Kifla sleeps two of them, but there are still four more!

Ally charges in. She slashes one of the enemies- who turn out to be mostly human- and wounds him. He tries to move back, but Ally decapitates him as he tries to fall back. Another of the enemies attacks her, but he fumbles and drops his sword! A most comical look of dismay comes over his face. The third of the bandits hurls a throwing axe at Ally, hitting her in the shoulder. She growls as it wounds her. Behind the first three bandits, the fourth begins waking up yet more of them.

“This is trouble,” Barouk says.

Kain moves in, thrusting with his shortsword, but he misses. His enemy attacks and then retreats, and Kain makes another attempt at landing a stab, but again he misses. Still, he harries his foe, attempting to get into flanking and land a blow.

Ally is a whirlwind, slaying bandits left and right. Barouk begins throwing punches as well, but he calls out, “Remember, keep one of them alive!”

Things are going pretty well, even as the new bandits are getting up, until the really big half-orc goes into a rage. “RAAAGHHH!!!!!” he roars, and charges Ally! His bastard sword whirls in- and hacks into her pelvis, shattering it and killing her instantly.

The half-orc howls and whirls to face the rest of the party.

Next Time: Holy crap! Can our heroes get their bandit- or will their bandit get our heroes?


*She killed one, cleaved and killed the other, all on the first full round of combat.

 

[Slickenfiber]

Battle! The bandits and our heroes move around the brush to engage in combat. Kifla sleeps two of them, but there are still four more!

Ally charges in. She slashes one of the enemies- who turn out to be mostly human- and wounds him. He tries to move back, but Ally decapitates him as he tries to fall back. Another of the enemies attacks her, but he fumbles and drops his sword! A most comical look of dismay comes over his face. The third of the bandits hurls a throwing axe at Ally, hitting her in the shoulder. She growls as it wounds her. Behind the first three bandits, the fourth begins waking up yet more of them.

“This is trouble,” Barouk says.

Ally ran way ahead of the rest of the PCs, putting herself in threat range of at least 3 bandits. It took the remaining party 3 rounds just to catch up! This, and the crit from the half-orc, is what killed her... Alas, she was only 16, and impulsive.

MORAL: stay together, and stay alive!

-- Monk Grunleaf Baruk

 

[the Jester]

“Ally!” shrieks Kifla. “NOOOOO!!!!”

Kain doesn’t have time to mourn the fall of his busty companion. He is fighting desperately, two short swords in his hands. His left hand twists as he parries a blow, sending the bandit’s blade out of guard position, and Kain lunges with both swords, impaling the man! With a gurgle, his foe falls. A crossbow bolt- launched by Kifla- whizzes past him and hits the raging half-orc that just slew Ally in the thigh.

He only howls again, spittle spraying from his mouth.

Barouk kicks out at another of the bandits- Are there more behind those bushes? he wonders- but misses. A spear jabs him in the side. Gritting his teeth, he stumbles forward at the half-orc, giving a wild jab- but the half-orc knocks his blow away, then chops down, slashing deeply into Barouk’s shoulder. The monk collapses in a bloody heap.

“Oh no,” whispers Kifla. Fear washes over her. This could be the end for all of us. She glances at the mad half-orc. And we’re supposed to take one of them alive! She casts expeditious retreat. If nothing else, maybe I can make it out and bring word to my master, or to that guy Bors who sent Kain with us...

“Coward!” screams Kain. “You can’t leave me alone like this!!” Desperately, he faces the half-orc and the other remaining bandit.

The half-orc roars and rushes forward at him, greataxe whistling. At the same instant, the other bandit leaps at Kain as well- and, through a stroke of incredible good fortune, the axe cleaves through the bandit!* Kain grins fiercely, leaps up through a spray of blood and viscera, drops his off-hand weapon and thrusts at the half-orc, trying to land a stunning blow against his head.

He misses, and finds himself face to face with a huge, raging, froth-at-the-mouth, foul-smelling half-orc barbarian bandit.

“Gnome- HELP!!!” he screams again.

Kifla is backing away, but when Kain yells for help again, she suppresses a sob and moves forward. Only one spell left, she whispers to herself. If this doesn’t work, I have to flee, or we’re all dead!

Her expeditious retreat becomes an expeditious advance as she moves up and to the side, to where she can cast without catching Kain in the area of her spell. Then she begins chanting the mystic syllables, linking her fingers together in weird positions- and a color spray hisses out, catching the half-orc in its cone of clashing hues! The bandit leader (?) gives a great roar, stumbled a few steps... and falls unconscious!

“Oh thank the gods!” bursts out Kain.

“Quick!” Kifla exclaims. “We have to make sure that Barouk is okay! And that will only keep the half-orc down for a few minutes- we need to bind him before he awakens!”

“Right,” Kain agrees. While Kifla is distracted, Kain surreptitiously reaches into the belt of Allyendra- poor, deceased Allyendra- and filches the adamantine dagger that she had been given by the traveling merchant on the road earlier.

The two of them bind the half-orc before he comes around. Kain has more expertise with ropes, so Kifla leaves that task mostly to him; meanwhile, she digs out the pink potion that the party found, crosses her fingers and pours it down Barouk’s mouth. The dwarf splutters and coughs, but some of his wounds close, and his eyes flutter open.

“Did we take one alive?” he groans.

***

When the party searches Ally’s body, Barouk notices a distinct lack of Ally’s new dagger. Kain does not confess to taking it, so the dwarf eyes him suspiciously but lets the matter drop for the moment. As soon as Barouk and Kifla have their backs turned, Kain slips the dagger into the half-orc’s belt, and as the party searches him, they discover it. Barouk harrumphs, but the mystery appears solved- at least for the moment.

“We have to bury her,” Kifla sniffs, indicating Ally’s body. For once, no one argues, and everyone starts digging. But after a few moments, they realize how poor the prospects of making a good grave are, and they change their plan (at Barouk’s suggestion) from a grave to a funeral pile. They begin gathering what dry wood they can find.

“Hello,” comes a new voice.

Everyone drops their firewood and whirls. Another half-orc faces them!

Barouk adopts a fighting stance. Kifla whips out her crossbow. Kain draws both shortswords.

“Whoa!” the half-orc exclaims, raising his hands to show that he is unarmed.

“State your business,” Barouk barks. “We’ve just had a rather bad encounter with another half-orc- a bandit- and it cost us dearly!”

“Whoa,” the newcomer repeats. “I’m no bandit! I am a traveler, seeking aid for my homeland, where we have a goblin problem, and I heard voices... so I thought I would investigate.” He glances at Ally’s body, laid out atop the beginnings of a funeral pyre. “Maybe,” he offers, “I can help you guys gather wood for your friend’s pyre.”

Barouk and Kifla exchange a glance. Kain shrugs. “Sounds good to me,” he snorts.

So it is that our heroes meet Grom, the half-orc. He tells them his tale as they dig: he is from the Elsir Vale to the north, from a town called Drellin’s Ferry. Recently his folk have been harassed by goblins, and although this is nothing new to them, the goblins seem bolder than usual. Moreover, the usual tactic of the local folk is to slay a few, send some pursuit to frighten the goblins and let them know that their incursions will be met with swords and arrows, and not tolerated. This time, however, the usual approach does not seem to be bearing fruit. Though the town has only had a few of its folk slain (and several more injured), the goblins are worrying in their persistence. So they sent Grom as a representative to the nearest big city, Alathion, for aid.

“But the local troops said they already had too much on their hands,” Grom sighs. “They said that the city has a bunch of problems with gang violence, as well as bandit activity going on around it. So they left me pretty much on my own. I figured that if I could find some independent adventurers that were interested in helping us, my town might be able to pay some coin to them for their help.”

Kifla, Kain and Barouk exchange looks.

“Well, we need to go back to Alathion first, to speak to my master,” Kifla says solemnly.

“Yes, we’ve finally just about finished our first real mission,” Barouk grumbles. “If we can get a live bandit back to town this time!”

The pyre is finally finished. Kifla says a few last words: “She was our friend, though she didn’t talk much. Well, grunted, really. Allyendra, we will miss you!”

She begins singing a gay, happy gnomish song while Barouk gravely lights a brand and thrusts it into the wood of the pyre. Several pieces are soaked in pitch, and the flames catch rapidly. Soon Ally’s corpse begins to burn, the fire licking upward at the night.

Barouk sighs. You may have been a silly human girl, he thinks, but you were a hell of a warrior!

***

A night’s rest sees our heroes back on the road to Alathion, with their half-orc captive bound within a large sack. When they reach the trade road that parallels the Alathion Canal, the traffic again picks up, and soon the party is stopped by a sheriff mounted on a kocho, searching for someone. However, the sheriff releases them when they show him the bandit that they captured: he is not the bandit the sheriff is looking for.

“Who are you looking for, then?” asks Kifla.

“The daughter of someone important,” the sheriff says vaguely. “Keep your eyes open and report anything you come across. There is a reward for her safe return.”

By evening they reach the walls of Alathion, but the gates are closed for the night. With an eloquent shrug, Barouk begins setting up camp again.

Next Time: Back in Alathion! Will our heroes finally turn a live bandit over to Kifla’s master? Will the party follow Grom? Will they learn anything about the missing girl? Find out- next time!

*This is a great example of a fumble (yes, I use fumbles) turning the tide of the battle. If that half-orc’s blow had hit Kain, that would have been it for him- he’d have been written in the dead-book for certain.

 

[the Jester]

With the morning light our heroes head back into Alathion. The city is criss-crossed with canals; each bridge requires a meager toll. Fortunately for Kifla and Barouk, they live here. The others must pay a smidge more. Kain grumbles about the pennies he has to spend; after all, for a jungle-dwelling insurrectionist, the opportunities to make money are... limited. He huffs. “I’m gonna sell some of the gear we got while you visit your master,” he tells Kifla. “What was his name, again?”

“Uh...” Kifla thinks for a minute. Hmm, I never got his name, she realizes, but aloud, she says, “They call him Big Nose.”

Kain snorts laughter. “All right, why don’t we meet after you’re done with Big Nose and I’m done selling loot?”

“Sounds good,” grunts Barouk.

Grom, who has accompanied the party back to the city, reminds them, “I can’t stay here long- I need to get back and help my folk.” He smiles his tusky smile. “Don’t forget- they’ll probably reward you guys if you can help us.”

For a half-orc, Grom is surprisingly persuasive. The party agrees to try to hurry things along so that they can go to his people’s aid. Then they split up. While Kain tries to sell a bunch of weapons and armor to the neighborhood smith (and discovers that he isn’t buying or selling anything until some stolen property is returned), Grom, Barouk and Kifla head towards the Scintillating Tower, surrounded by its Garden of Glass, to see Kifla’s master within. After knocking, they are greeted by a construct that leads them into a sitting room- and then turns into a gnome, but not the one that they met before. Clearly, this is ‘Big Nose’. When they show him their captive, he is overjoyed, giving the party a bag of gold and handing Kifla a scroll. “The spell on that scroll is somewhat unusual,” he tells her. Upon closer examination, it turns out to hold the spell paint memory, which will allow her to create an image, perfect in every detail, of something that she has seen.

“Do you know anything about the kidnapping of the daughter?” Barouk asks. “We met a sheriff who was looking for her- the daughter of someone important, apparently.”

Big Nose shrugs. “Oh, yes, everyone is talking about it. The rumors that I heard said that she’s the daughter of a wealthy jeweler, and she was kidnapped for extortion purposes.”

This seems like a logical story, and our heroes talk briefly about pursuing the matter, but again, Grom reminds them, “We need to get moving soon.”

“Well, we’re staying the night in town tonight, right?” Kifla says, as the party exits the tower of Big Nose. “We might as well keep our eyes open while we’re here, and maybe we can tell the authorities about anything we hear.”

As the party moves down the street, they run afoul of a trio of sneering young men. They eye the party and call a few insults at our heroes, who respond in kind. “Fools, don’t you know you’re in Lion Gang territory?” one of the gang members taunts as the three thugs assume fighting stances. They are unarmed, but to Barouk’s eye, they look like practiced unarmed fighters.

“Yeah?” the dwarven monk returns, taking up a stance of his own. “Well, I think the authorities need to hear that the Lion Gang had something to do with a certain recent kidnapping that is the talk of the town.”

“Huh?” The shortest of the street thugs seems confused.

The one who spoke earlier, a blond man with a dusting of moustache, pipes up. “We didn’t have anything to do with that, none of us!” He seems uneasy at the accusation.

“But I bet you know who did,” Grom accuses.

The Lion Gang members move close together and have a quick murmured discussion. The blond one turns back and states, “She isn’t kidnapped, anyway. She joined up with the Furies.”

“Who?” Kifla asks.

“They’re our rivals,” another of the gangsters tells them. “Girls. No matter what they start off as.”

The two groups drift apart, having managed to avoid violence. “Thanks for the info!” Kifla bubbles, waving at them.

It starts raining. Everyone goes back to the tenement building where Barouk and Kifla live. Kifla gladly lets Grom sleep in her room; Kain and Herb, who has gotten very quiet, are left out in the common room. Kain sleeps on a couch, Herb in a chair. When he awakens, Kain finds that he is missing some money and goes into a cold, murderous rage. He is unsure as to who the culprit is, but he knows that if he finds them, he will extract payment from them one way or another. As the morning moves towards noon and our heroes buy gear with which to travel, he looks again and again at Herb. Finally, Kain accuses him of stealing his money in the night. Herb looks horrified at the very thought, and a shakedown reveals that he is completely broke.

“Damn it!” Kain curses. “Who took my money?? Argh!!”

“I think it is time for me to leave you,” Herb says abruptly.

“What?” exclaims Kifla.

“It is clear that I am not trusted here, nor do I have much to offer you. I... I must find myself. My path.” He heaves a sigh. “I am lost. I must find my way.” And with that, he walks away, into the city. In the distance, thunder peals.

“Good riddance,” spits Kain. The others give him a collective hard look.

By noon the party begins winding its way through the thronged streets and across the canals, and by about two in the afternoon they reach- and pass without- the city gates. During their shopping, they bought a beast of burden, a bosoch- a large beetle, domesticated by dwarves. Soon they are on their way down the trade road that parallels the Alathion Canal- they will be following the same route that they have for all of their adventures so far, only this time they will be following it much farther. Grom tells them that, when the time comes, they will turn north off of the road, head into the Deadgrass Lands again, and cross to the north end of them.

The traffic on the road is thick as always. The rain grows heavier, splattering our heroes’ legs with mud from the road. Squabbling brothers wearing wide-brimmed hats against the downpour drive a load of hay; a wagon plods along, pulled by more of the great domestic beetles, either bosoch or bodokod. A man and his dogs herd a muddy flock of ducks and a few geese. A fellow with a cart of soaked firewood grumbles sourly to himself.

When night draws her curtains, our heroes set up the driest camp they can manage, stretching some blankets from branches and erecting Grom’s two-man tent. Better than nothing...

Our heroes do their best to settle in for the night while thunder rumbles. Flashes of lightning illuminate the night for an instant now and then. Kain takes the first watch. The wind blows through the camp; the rain flies nearly sidewise at times. Kain shivers. Hell of a night, he thinks. There is another flash of lightning, closer; ozone tickles at his nostrils.

Wait a minute, he realizes, that didn’t come from the sky.

Kain draws his weapons. He squints into the darkness. Something’s moving, he realizes.

“Wake up!” he shouts. “Beware!”

There is a buzz of electricity, and a strange flying beast charges at him through the night, its tail crackling with electricity. It looks almost worm-like, but it has a distinct head and eyes, and strange, hair-like growth along its head and around its mouth. The long tail glows with the power of lightning.

Kifla summons a celestial own, which swoops in and strikes the weird monster. It spits and squeals, and its tail lashes out, the electricity racing around it. It misses, and as it moves forward, Grom springs, swinging his weapon, and lands a solid blow to the head! The electrical worm thing spins away, its uppermost bits a bloody ruin.

“Wow, nice blow!” exclaims Kifla.

“I’m going back to sleep,” grumbles Barouk.

The next day the party moves forward along the trade road. The rain has slackened, but it is still coming down, and the road is a muddy mess. The party stops to help an old man unstick his wagon from the mud; in thanks, he gives them a chicken and a dozen eggs. The rain finally stops, at least for a while.

Soon enough our heroes move off of the road, and along the track heading north through the jungle and then into the Deadgrass Lands. The skies are clearing. As they cross into the grasslands, everyone notes that the flashes in the distance are still visible, and those who have not seen them before gape in wonder. Whatever is happening, it is happening far away. The power being displayed is unfathomable.

As they move north through the tall, brittle grass, the party is assailed by a pair of weird wolf-like things that peel their faces back when they attack, but they are defeated easily (despite Kifla’s color spraying most of the party!).

It isn’t until the toad that things get ugly.

Next Time: The Toad!!

 

[Slickenfiber]

Fear.

Poor Grom went flailing some 70 feet down the dirt road at the sight of the peeling faces of the weird wolf-like things... Aren't half-orcs supposed to be fearsome in their own right?? HA!!

-- Monk Grunleaf Baruk

 

[Slickenfiber]

At this point in our adventure, Baruk is 2nd level. But, as game play always exceeds excellent storytelling, I'll post Baruk's current 3rd level stats.
Note: I chose to round out Saves, AC, and HP, creating a well rounded character strong on defense. Thus, STR is low.


Campaign: Three Kingdoms and Empire
Location: City of Alathion, Island Empire of Forinthia, Cydra

Medium Humanoid (Male Dwarf)
Clan: Grünleaf (as in Grünleaf Barük)
Monk 3 (ECL 3)
AL LN
Init. +3; Senses: darkvision 60 ft. (black and white), stonecunning; Listen +3, Sense Motive +7, Spot +5.
Languages: Forinthian (Common), Dwarven.

AC 16 (20 vs. giant monsters), touch 16, flat footed 16, total defense 20.
(+0 size, +3 Dex, +3 Wis).
HD 3d8+6, hp 27.
Saving Throws: +2 vs. poison, +2 vs. all spells, +4 vs. enchantment spells (+2 vs. enchantment effects), evasion.

SV Fort +5, Ref +6, Will +6.

Special Actions: add WIS bonus to AC (if unencumbered and unarmored), lethal damage with unarmed strikes 1d6, +4 dodge bonus to AC vs. giant monsters (negate if Dex bonus lost to AC).
Speed 30 ft. walk (6 squares), 60 ft. hustle (12 squares), 150 ft. run (30 squares).
Base Attack +2, Grapple +3.

Attack Options: fiery fist (uses stunning fist daily allowance), flurry of blows, stunning fist 4/day (DC 14), +1 vs. orcs, half-orcs, and goblinoids (e.g. goblins, hobgoblins, bugbears).

Melee:
unarmed strike +3 (1d6+1/x2),
quarterstaff, one or two handed +3 (1d6+1/x2),
stunning fist +3 (1d6+1/x2 plus stun 4/day) DC 14.

Ranged:
sling +3 (1d4+1/x2, range 50 ft, max 250 ft.),
shuriken +3 (1d2+1/x2, range 10 ft, max 50 ft.).

Flurry of Blows: (- 2 FOB + 2 BAB +1 STR)
+1/+1 (1d6+1/x2, unarmed strike), plus optional fiery fist (1d6 fire 4/day),
+1/+1 (1d6+1/x2, quarterstaff),
+1/+1 (1d2+1/x2, shuriken, range 10 ft., max 50 ft.).

Abilities: Str 13, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 11, Wis 16, Cha 6.

Special Qualities: dwarf traits, flurry of blows –2, improved unarmed strike, weapon proficiency (club, light crossbow, heavy crossbow, dagger, handaxe, javelin, kama, nunchaku, quarterstaff, sai, shuriken, siangham, sling).

Feats: Exotic Weapon Proficiency (Lajatang), Fiery Fist 4/day (bonus), Improved Unarmed Strike (bonus), Path of Inner Discipline (homebrew), Stunning Fist 4/day (bonus).

Skills (20 + 4/level): Balance +7 (+11 vs. bull rush or trip attempts), Craft (weaponsmithing) +8 (apprentice level 6), Escape Artist +7, Move Silently +7, Sense Motive +7, Spot +5.

Carrying Capacity: light 50 lbs, medium 51-100 lbs, heavy 101-150 lbs, lift over head 150 lbs, lift off ground 300 lbs, push or drag 750 lbs.


CHARACTERIZATION:

Artisan (Background): As a young child, Barük underwent extensive training and apprenticeship under his father, Grünleaf Tordek (LG), a master weaponsmith during the time of Dexter and a prominent merchant in arms for wealthy lords. Barük learned the craft, excelling to 4th level apprentice, before his father was captured and either tortured, imprisoned, or killed by an unknown assailant, seeking a magical lajatang crafted by Tordek.

Seeker (Archetype): After this traumatic event, Barük de-emphasized his weaponsmithing apprenticeship to focus his efforts into finishing his training as a monk. He reasoned that his monk training would provide him with the strength of character, discipline of mind, and focused attention to eventually find his father’s captors (or killers), avenge his father, and find the stolen lajatang.

Alignment: Barük started his life as a lawful good weaponsmith following the religion and practices of the Galadorian faith. With his fate forever altered by the loss of his father and mentor, Barük, a vengeful heart beating within, became lawful neutral. He was unable to heed the warnings of his Grünleaf clansmen: “Vengeance will lure you away from Good, Barük. Be wary of Bleak!” But, he knew that Good would not allow him the leniency to track all leads and paths required to find the persons responsible for his father’s disappearance. Justice, and therefore Law, is his primary compass. Moral flexibility, and therefore neutrality, is his most expeditious path.

Fear: Barük fears failure, especially on his quest to avenge his father. Barük also hates, and fears, Chaos. The masters of St. Spadron taught him that Chaos is the path through which strife spawns, so Barük challenges Chaos whenever he finds it’s allies acting on its behalf.

Kind: Instead of bitterness and resentment, Barük’s monk training has taught him to act with compassion to others’ needs despite his own trials, as there are many who have suffered worse histories in life.

General descriptors: Barük prefers a careful plan to recklessness, prefers quiet to noise or hustle and bustle, for it his through silence that he remains most focused on his quest. He believes St. Spadron and Galador will show him the path to justice, as long as he stays true to The Walk, and The Way of The Monk. Barük tends to get impatient with indecisiveness, yet is not so hurried that he wont stop to admire the simplest of things. He believes the means is just as important as the end and always acts in the best interests of Law.

 

[the Jester]

Nice write up of Barouk, Slickenfiber!

To the readers- please note that I spell Barouk differently than Slickenfiber does, much like Horbin/Horben in the epic game. As always, this started off as a simple error, but I have subsequently justified it via the old "Forinthian spelling vs. Dwarven spelling" line.

Edit: Oh, and I encourage the other pcs to post their characters as well- the party has grown substantially since the session in this story hour's most recent update. We now have a regular group of 8 players for this game...

 

[the Jester]

The Tragedy of the Toad!

The Deadgrass Lands are uneven, unreliable terrain. Sometimes, it is flat and favors easy walking for miles; at other times, sinkholes abound, cracks and chasms cut the landscape and rises and depressions are everywhere. The grass itself is sharp, brittle and unpleasant, and varies in height up to eight or even ten feet high.

Our heroes are traveling through a lower area, with several shallow creeks cutting across it. The day creeps into afternoon. As the party moves through a particularly foul-smelling and scum-covered pond, they hear a frighteningly loud croak.

“What was-” Kain starts, and suddenly a toad hops forth.

A toad larger than Kain.

His mouth hangs open in disbelief as the thing’s throat-sac inflates to the size of a large shield, and it gives out another thunderous croak. And then it opens its mouth to attack- and a long, sticky tongue shoots out, swatting- and sticking to- Kain!

“Hey!” he shouts, drawing his sword out. He is being reeled quickly towards the dire toad’s mouth, despite his strongest struggles.

“Kain!” barks Barouk, and he springs forward, smacking the toad with one meaty fist. It barely seems to notice the blow, merely concentrating on pulling its chosen victim to its mouth. The party unleashes a storm of attacks with weapons and fists, but the toad catches Kain in its mouth and begins gnawing on him, trying to pull him into its throat and swallow him whole!

“Aagh!!” Kain yells as the toad’s bite cracks the bones of his arm. His struggles are growing weaker. The sticky tongue jerks his upper body into the thing’s mouth! “Help!!” he screams.

Grom springs into the fray and Barouk redoubles his efforts, but in his frantic haste to strike it, he misses. A bolt from Kifla flies wide. Grom cuts the toad across the back, but it ignores the blow.

Kain struggles to push himself back out of the frog’s mouth. He is, quite literally, looking down its throat. Its tongue convulses, shoving him further in, and he screams in pain as the monster’s powerful bite crushes his ankles. Only his feet are still outside of the beast.

Grom and Barouk kick, pummel and chop into the toad to great effect, and it stumbles away a pace. It is now battered, bruised and bleeding, but with another convulsion of its mouth and throat, Kain is completely lost from view. “Noooo!” cries Kifla, firing another bolt from her crossbow. Frantically, our heroes struggle to slay the dire toad. It tries to hop away, but they manage to catch and slay it before it can do so. Quickly, they cut open its belly.

Too late. Kain is dead.

Barouk harumphs. He grudgingly shows Kain the respect due the dead, but to tell the truth, he never liked or trusted the revolutionary anyway. Being a dwarf and therefore practical, the monk quickly strips his dead companion’s body of everything of use. Kain even had some money- almost 70 gp in mixed coins!

“We have to bury him,” Kifla says.

“Of course,” Grom agrees, before Barouk can object. The dwarf sighs and nods.

So they set about to do so. It takes about an hour of digging to create a grave of appropriate size, and then another twenty minutes to bury the body; and then Barouk, Kifla and Grom share a moment of silence over the death of their friend. Well, companion, anyway.

The three of them continue on. It is almost dusk by now; before long, they are forced to begin looking for an appropriate spot to camp. Upon finding one, they build a fire and cook some food, then erect the tent and roll out their respective bedrolls. Soon everyone but Grom (who is taking first watch) is asleep.

The night is beautiful, warm and pleasant. The stars glitter like jewels in the firmament above him. He keeps a sharp eye out. I hope my people are okay, he thinks. Thankfully, these folks are willing to help us. Goblins have always plagued us- but they are never so persistently harassing as they are being this last year. He broods over the goblin menace to his home town of Drellin’s Ferry for several hours, until his watch is over and he wakes Barouk. Then Grom goes to sleep with a sigh.

In the morning- for the rest of the night is uneventful- our heroes wake and begin their morning routines. After a quick breakfast, they set out, but they have only traveled for about twenty minutes when Barouk spots a campsite up ahead, with two elves in it. He motions to his companions to drop back behind some cover. Quietly, he informs them of what he saw, and Grom volunteers to go check the campsite out. He heads down the slope towards the elves, trying to be sneaky, but they have plainly seen him by the time he arrives and are watching him.

“I’m friendly!” Grom tells them, holding his empty hands out. “I’m, uh, just checking out what you’re up to.”

“We’re travelers,” one of the elves- the male- says.

“Uh, yeah, us too.”

“Us?” the female elf asks, arching an eyebrow. “Are there more orcs with you?”

“No- I’m a half-orc, and my companions are a gnome and a dwarf.”

The two elves exchange a glance. Grom has encountered racism before, and he imagines that they are debating internally whether to believe him or not. Then the two relax, letting their hands fall away from the hilts of their weapons. Grom calls up the hill, and Barouk and Kifla descend.

The two elves are named Skaal (the male) and Tempe (the female). The party tells them about the goblins menacing Grom’s homeland, but the elves decline to join them, stating that they already have a mission of their own. “We’re going to somewhere called Vraath Keep,” Tempe tells the party.

“That’s right near my home town!” Grom declares. “Right outside of it!”

”Well, maybe we can join forces after all, then,” Skaal replies quietly. “At least for a time.”

“Well met, then!” Kifla cries. “Hurray, new friends!” Then she turns sober. “After all, we just lost a friend.” She relates the tale of the tragedy of the toad to the elves, and they commiserate with her. The elves finish their breakfast, and the party helps them break camp; and then, the newly-expanded party of five continues on.

As they move on, the grass grows higher, and in thicker, hedge-like clumps. Often these are impenetrable. The party breaks for lunch. Soon after, they come to a long hedge, with a single break leading into it. More thick grass is visible on the other side. It is a veritable maze of the deadgrass.

“I wonder if anything lives in there,” Grom mutters. He moves up and cocks his head to listen; after a moment, he says, “All I hear is rustling grass.”

The party moves in, Grom in the lead, his head still cocked. He pads forward about 20’. The path through the maze splits into a T, with one passage heading to the right and the other to the left. As he creeps forward into the intersection, Grom suddenly feels the floor go out from under him.

A pit opens.

He flails for the edge, but he is not quite fast enough. As he comes down, he manages to roll with the fall. Fortunately, his tumbling skill is sufficient to prevent any damage from such a short fall. But- “That was a trap!” he exclaims.

“Oh no!” Kifla cries.

Skaal moves up and peers down into the pit. “Here,” he calls, throwing down one end of a rope. “I’ll help you- AAHHH!!”

A stone pings off of Skaal’s head. The elf stumbles, shakes his head and glares up. Poking through the wall of grass, through a tiny opening, is the head and forebody of a kobold. Then, suddenly, there is a great tug at the rope that Skaal is not prepared for, and he is pulled into the pit as well! He lands much more poorly than did Grom, and to add insult to injury, he smashes into the half-orc as well! Skaal groans into unconsciousness, while Grom is wounded fairly badly but still in fighting shape.

Tempe cracks her whip at the kobold, but misses; and it withdraws back through the hedge.

“Damn it!” curses Tempe.

The party stays quite wary for a few minutes, but the kobold does not reappear, so they get back to the whole ‘rescue people from the pit’ business. Soon both Skaal and Grom are back up above, and the application of a potion that the party had previously obtained brings Skaal back to consciousness, and in fact to full health. He in turn demonstrates the ability to heal and restores Grom’s lost vitality.

They withdraw from the maze to camp, restore their resources and reconsider.

“A maze full of kobolds can’t be good,” Skaal opines.

“I wonder how long it would take to go around it,” Tempe murmurs.

Our heroes look over the hedge maze. It seems to extend for a considerable distance, and there is no guarantee that they will find a direct path around it at all. After much discussion, they decide that they must take the maze.

“At least the beetle will fit in there,” Barouk points out.

Next Time: Into the Deadgrass Maze in earnest!

 

[the Jester]

Into the Deadgrass Maze!

During the night, those of our heroes that are in the best shape keep watch, constantly jumping at shadows. Nervously, they strain their ears for the tell-tale yipping of kobolds or the sound of the tall grey grass rustling in the darkness. They have a small, low fire; it is easily hidden amongst the tall embankments of grass. Hopefully.

When the morning sun finally drags itself out of the eastern sea and the night sky lightens and gradually turns pink, our heroes rise. There is a maze to conquer.

Grom leads the way. He claims to have a good deal of skill with locating traps, and suggests that (as they have already encountered one trap) he is thus probably the best one to take point. When Kifla points out that the reason that the party “encountered” the one trap was that Grom failed to detect it, the half-orc offers to let her take the lead instead. She declines, Tempe snorts in amusement, and Grom takes the lead.

The so-called “deadgrass” is an ashen grey, spotted with brown and green. It is brittle and shatters into sharp edges; though not strong, it can easily slice through skin and flesh. It grows around seven to ten feet tall throughout the area of the maze. Skaal eyes it dubiously as the party moves in. Everyone is excruciatingly careful; with Grom scanning the party’s path for traps, they are able to take their time without slowing the group down.

Into the maze.

Our heroes enter the place warily, eyes wide open, ears listening for anything suspicious. They move in to the pit that they encountered the night before. Keeping their eyes open for kobolds (or anything else), they creep through the T-shaped intersection that the pit is in the middle of and head off to the left.

***

As soon as the intruders are past the pit, Yizfip creeps back through the tiny passage through the center of the thick grass until it intersects another, bigger passage, big enough to run down. He creeps to the corner and listens.

Yes. The intruders are making lots of noise. Even as far away as they are, probably 50 feet, most of which is full of the grass, he can hear them clearly. He sprints down the open path between walls of deadgrass, leaving the intruders behind- for the moment. He follows the passage straight through a four-way intersection (the intruders will be off to my left, Yizfip thinks) and follows the path as it curves right. Pass the opening to the left, it doesn’t go anywhere anyway. Straight ahead- and the kobold skids to a halt in the only large open space in the entire maze. The boss’ chamber.

And there he is.

Yizfip quails every time he sees the great lizard man. He is always afraid- every single time!- that the boss is going to rip out his heart and eat it! He starts to tremble and his tail tucks, quivering, between his legs. “Boss,” he whines, “the intruders from yesterday are back!”

Voorsikthss stirs on the wooden and bone chair that he has fashioned for himself. It is festooned with the skulls of those whose hearts he has eaten, foes and kobolds alike. His red eyes flare and his lower jaw drops open with a hiss that Yizfip recognizes as the lizard man’s malevolent laugh.

“Let’s start the fun,” the boss rumbles.

***

Left. Right. Left again.

“This place is a maze,” Tempe comments.

No one answers. Are there kobold eyes spying on them from hidden peep tunnels in the grass? No one is certain, but they are nervous about the possibility.

In the lead, Grom wipes sweat from his brow and moves another few feet ahead. So far, nothing. But he knows better than to get complacent- kobolds have a reputation, you know! Even if this is the first time he has actually met them... He takes another step, momentarily distracted, and suddenly, to his dismay, he realizes that he has just stepped into a noose hidden in the dirt. It tightens swiftly, seeking purchase on his ankle-

He yanks his foot free just in time. Though he was distracted, he reflexes are still amazing. Still, he gulps. Just as he is opening his mouth to tell his companions of the trap, four kobolds charge around the corner ahead, clearly expecting the party to be experiencing some trouble from the trap. “Look out!” he shouts. “Kobolds!”

Tempe reacts with elfin alacrity, hurling her spear at one of the kobolds. It throws itself flat and the spear misses; then, the lizard-like dog-man scrambles back up to its feet, growling and baring its teeth. The two foremost kobolds spring forward, slashing at Grom, and one of them hits! It slices across his left leg, drawing a bloody line on his thigh! The half-orc bites back a scream of pain. It feels like his leg is on fire; from his thigh down, his leg is suddenly wet. The rearmost two kobolds fire sling bullets at him, too, and one of them hits him in the chest, leaving a tremendous bruise. He staggers back, hit twice, noticeably wounded.

Barouk draws and throws a dagger, catching one of the rear kobolds in the arm. It gives out a loud yip of pain, then glares at him. Skaal tries to emulate the dwarven monk, throwing a dagger of his own, but he misses. The kobolds are fast! Grom draws his short sword and engages the two kobolds on him; despite his two wounds, he is ready to fight! Unfortunately, the little dog-lizard men are quick and manage to evade his first clumsy stabs.

Tempe grimaces and glares at one of the kobolds.. The smell of burning metal fills the air, and suddenly the creature screams. Blood bursts from its eyes, nose, ears and mouth; it collapses, dead.

“What did you do to it?” Barouk cries, astonished. Tempe just smiles.

The kobolds in the back, with the slings, fire again. One fires at Grom, but the half-orc zigs when the kobold wanted him to zag, and the stone hits one of the other kobolds! It howls in pain, staggering. The other kobold slinger hits Skaal, who gives out a screech. The stone connects less than an inch from his eye!*

Grom misses another thrust. Forget this, he thinks grimly. He leaps back, tumbling through a backwards summersault and ending up on his feet behind his comrades. His leg throbs with pain, as does the right side of his chest. “Get them!” he exhorts his friends.

Tempe’s brow crinkles again, and again there is that weird smell of burning metal. Another of the kobolds gives out a loud howl and collapses, blood gushing from its mouth and nose, its eyes suddenly extraordinarily bloodshot. Its tongue lolls from its lifeless mouth.

The other two kobolds take a step back.

Skaal whips out his two sickles and begins advancing.

The two remaining kobolds break and run. They veritably dash away, scampering back and around a corner in mere seconds. Our heroes begin to pursue, but Barouk reins them in.

“Now hold on,” the dwarf says. “You’re just going to get split up and killed in the maze.”

The party gathers up and re-forms their ranks. “We could just try to find another way around this place,” Tempe points out.

Barouk shrugs. “Sure. We could. But it might delay us for days.”

Tempe nods. “Then let’s go.”

The party keeps going. They advance in the same direction that the kobolds fled in, and ignore the first side passage. It is to their left; so far, they have gone left-right-left, so it is the next right-hand passage that they take.

“Listen,” Skaal commands suddenly. “Do you hear that?”

The sound is impossible to miss. “Drumming,” grunts Barouk.

“The kobolds?” wonders Tempe.

Barouk nods. “I’d bet on it.”

The party keeps moving. As the party travels down yet another path between walls of deadgrass, Grom abruptly says, “Stop!” Without question, the other members of the party do so.

The half-orc squats down to examine whatever he has seen. To the others, it looks like normal hallway. Grom seems to brush at the floor with his finger, then to do something- what, the rest of the party cannot ascertain, except that it involves hunching over that particular section of hallway- and then a pit opens in front of him. It is small, just big enough to catch a leg, and is less than two feet deep.

But the bottom is filled with black widows.

“Nasty,” Skaal remarks. There is more than a hint of admiration in his voice. “A formidable type of poison.”

“I’m just glad that I didn’t step in it!” Grom declares.

Deeper in. The party’s journey continues, Grom staying in the front. The sharp-edged grass sighs around them. The air is growing warmer as the sun creeps up the ecliptic towards its zenith.

“Stop!” Grom commands the others again.

“What is it?” grunts Barouk.

“A trip wire.” The half-orc gestures, pointing out what he sees. “Right here. It’s very thin...” He pauses, looking it over carefully, pulling out a few long, slender tools to try to disable it. After a few moments, he shakes his head. “I can’t disable it,” he says.

“Then stand back.” Tempe pulls out her whip. “I’ll trigger it from far away.”

Grom scurries back behind the female elf. The others watch as she cracks her whip at the tripwire.

CLANGACLINGACLANGA!!

“Aw, crap, it was an alarm,” Grom says.

Next Time: Our heroes get lost in the maze! What kind of drastic measures can they take? How about- lighting it on fire!!

*Threat; not a crit.

 

[the Jester]

The sound of kobold feet scurrying towards the party is all too clear. Barouk begins hurrying forward, followed by Skaal, who draws out both of his sickles. Then a pair of kobolds come into view from around the corner! Grom immediately charges, his growl growing into a shout as he launches himself forward. Tempe unleashes a mind thrust, but fails to penetrate the startled kobold’s mental defenses. The two kobolds strike back with their spears, and four more join them from around the corner. A furious press develops, with our heroes striking and parrying.

“Listen!” shouts Grom. “I can hear more of them barking. I think there are more coming!”

“We have to break through these,” Barouk barks, smashing his fist into one of the yipping kobolds’ nose. It drops.

It is right about then that the kobolds break and run. Our heroes roar and charge in pursuit, but suddenly there are spears coming at them from behind! Swiftly, the party turns to deal with this new assault, and they engage another group of kobolds that has snuck up behind them. Skaal’s kocho kicks and bites, screeching wildly. Another group of kobolds comes in to reinforce them- but these ones are carrying a figure bound to a pole.

Still, the kobolds are cowards by nature, and when they realize that our heroes will bloody and beat them, the kobolds flee. In their haste, they leave the bound figure behind (and, of course, the pole).

Gasping to recover their breath, our heroes glance warily around. There are no imminent, obvious threats. Tempe wipes her brow. “These guys are sneaky and treacherous,” she remarks.

Barouk nods. “Well, they are kobolds,” he grunts.

“What about this guy?” Skaal gestures at the bound figure. It appears to be a nude half-elven male. His head is bloody. A collection of what the party assumes to be his gear is on some of the dead kobolds. The party cuts him free; he hardly seems a threat at the moment. Skaal tends his wounds as best he can, and after a few moments and a goodberry or two, the strange half-elf’s eyes flutter and open.

“Gah!” he groans. “Who are you? Where am I?” He looks completely confused.

“You were captured by kobolds, as near as we can figure,” Barouk responds. “What is your story? What’s your name?”

“I am Romdar. I...” The stranger trails off, wincing. “I can’t remember... anything. Except my name.” He groans; his face takes on a profoundly lost cast. “What’s going on??”

“It must have been that blow to the head,” mutters Skaal.

“Listen, here’s the important thing: We’re in the middle of a dead grass maze that appears to be the lair of a pack of kobolds, and it’s full of traps. Now, what useful talents do you have?” Barouk gestures at the gear. “Is that your sword? Are you a warrior?”

“I...” The half-elf pauses and frowns. “I am more than a warrior. I am a duskblade.”

“A whatwho?” asks Skaal.

“I... am not entirely sure.”

“Well, listen, Romdar,” says Barouk, “we’re in here together, and we’re against common foes. Why don’t we work together for the time being?”

“All right.” Romdar’s face turns stoic. For the moment, he has something to focus on. But I can’t remember my past, he thinks. Any of it!

Suddenly drumming starts up in the distance.

“Crap,” mutters Grom. “This is not good. They are going to hunt us like animals.”

“They’re just trying to scare us,” Barouk growls.

“It’s working,” nods Skaal.

And then it stops abruptly. Which is just a slight bit more unsettling.

***

Our heroes keep moving, and as they move- trying to make good time- they keep hitting traps. First a spear flung by an unseen mechanism, then a blade of the sharp dead grass, then another pit.

And then the drumming starts again.

Grom groans. Romdar snarls. Nobody is happy. The party stops to cross the pit, but a kobold assault comes right then, and the heroes are forced to reverse course and make a stand.

Unfortunately, this time the kobolds have a sorcerer, and she keeps trying to put our heroes to sleep and stuff. Soon the pitch of the battle rises, and furious blows are exchanged and spells are being slung. A solid spear blow to the head puts Skaal down, and another takes Grom from the fight, but the kobolds’ morale soon breaks and they flee, leaving our heroes to tend their wounded.

“Kobolds are a pain in the ass,” Romdar remarks. Barouk chuckles and nods.

“Uh, guys,” Barouk says slowly. “We may have a problem.”

“What’s that?” asks Romdar.

“We’re lost.” Barouk gestures at the parchment that he holds. “If my map is anything like right, we should be right near one of the pits up here. But there’s no pit.”

“Let’s backtrack,” suggests Romdar.

They retreat the way they came, but something doesn’t match up on the map. Barouk tries to lead them as best he can, with the unconscious folk strapped to the beetle, but the bewildering maze just gets them more and more confused.

Finally, frustrated, in a fit of pique Barouk lights a torch and then hurls it off into the maze over the tall grass adjacent to him. Romdar shrugs and lights a fire in the grass nearby as well.

The party moves away from the flames. But soon the smell of smoke is everywhere. Soon they face a curtain of fire. They retreat, taking another side passage, and move along... only to find the fire again. They retreat- they must go another way, but there are more flames. Back again- and again, another way... and another, as smoke fills the sky...

Next Time: Will we have a tpk by fire? Find out!!