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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 6124543" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>ADVENTURE 67 - YOU KILLED KENNY!</strong></p><p></p><p>PC Roster: <p style="margin-left: 20px">Feron Dru, half-elven druid</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Galrich Slayer, half-orc barbarian</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Telgrane, human conjurer</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Thunderwolf, human fighter</p><p></p><p>NPC Roster: <p style="margin-left: 20px">Aerik Battershield, dwarven fighter/dwarven defender</p><p></p><p>As a reminder, this adventure occurred concurrently with "You Bastard!" - while Dan was running Cal through that one, the other players were running their PCs through this short adventure.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>Feron sat in the common area of the Wing Three living quarters, when she suddenly felt the presence of a magical effect swirling around her, like a hidden breeze. Suddenly, an unseen feminine voice whispered, "It's Rebecca, trying out the <em>whispering wind</em> spell. Delmond and I will be at the Pit-Fight tonight. Meet us there at 7 bells for dinner?"</p><p></p><p>The half-elf smiled. While the Pit-Fight wasn't her favorite eating - or drinking - establishment, she looked forward to seeing Rebecca again. She passed the invitation on to a couple of the other members of Wing Three who were available.</p><p></p><p>"Can't go," grumbled Cal, heading back to his room after having been summoned to go see Guildmaster Farthingale. "Gotta go see some stupid nobleman on some stupid dinner-date mission."</p><p></p><p>Hours later, just before 7 bells, a group of five Wing Three adventurers strode up to the Pit-Fight. Feron had convinced Thunderwolf to come simply on the draw of it being a haven for adventurers; the young fighter thought the world of adventurers and was still amazed that he was now working among their ranks on a day-to-day basis. Galrich came along to watch the night's combats in the Pit, and if the future King of Kordovia was going to go, then his trusted bodyguard Aerik was going to be there as well. Telgrane tagged along on the off chance that Dr. Greymantle might show up along with his apprentices; having recently attained the title of Archmage himself, he was eager to appear before the great wizard as someone of equal rank.</p><p></p><p>Before they could get into the front door, though, they were accosted by a filthy-looking beggar. "Got any excess coppers you might have taking up valuable room in your change-purses?" he asked with a phlegmatic cough. "Old Kenny'd be more than happy to take them off of your hands for you, if you like."</p><p></p><p>Galrich took the opportunity to fling a small bag of coins at the elderly vagabond. Old Kenny peered inside it and saw the glint of gold, then quickly buried it inside his filthy shirt and looked around to see if any of the lowlifes of the Styes had caught sight of his sudden fortune. "Thank you mightily, m'lord!" stammered the beggar, before hobbling away to some hidden bolt-hole where he slept when not actively begging for coins or scraps of food.</p><p></p><p>Feron watched the poor old fellow stagger away. "If anybody sees him with that much money on hand, they'll likely slit his throat without a second thought," she commented. "You may have just signed his death warrant."</p><p></p><p>"He'll be fine," scoffed Galrich. "You don't get to be to his ripe old age without learning a thing or two to surviving in the streets."</p><p></p><p>"You're right about the 'ripe' part, in any case," remarked Telgrane under his breath, holding a hand over his nose as Old Kenny's less-than-aromatic stench lingered on a bit after the beggar's departure.</p><p></p><p>The group entered the Pit-Fight and were immediately hailed by Rebecca, who had already reserved a table, and Delmond, who was at the bar grabbing up the evening's first pitcher of ale. Galrich nodded his hello and then ambled over to the Pit to see who was fighting that evening. Aerik, naturally, followed suit. Telgrane sat Feron into a chair by Rebecca and then sat down across the table from them.</p><p></p><p>One of the waitresses ambled over and took everyone's order. Pork was the main course of the night, as a fierce boar ("Tusky the Terrible," a favored pit-fighter this past week) had been slain just the previous evening in the Pit. Dinner conversation was pleasant, with Dr. Greymantle's two apprentices eager to maintain friendships with people as powerful as the Wing Three adventurers. Dr. Greymantle and Pinwhistle were easily as powerful as those of Wing Three, but they pursued various academic pursuits in lieu of actively adventuring themselves. Telgrane entertained the two with a detailed description of their recent encounter with Ignus Bloodstone, the Magma Mage, up in the volcanic mountains near Kordovia, at which time Rebecca pointed out that Dr. Greymantle - "Thag," as she called him, which earned her some ribbing from Delmond - had been in correspondence with another Archmage who specialized in the study of the Elemental Plane of Fire. Intrigued, Telgrane extracted a promise from Rebecca to find out this Archmage's name, for he said he would love to talk to such a person.</p><p></p><p>The conversation turned to other topics, such as the apprentices' studies, and then at the 9-bell note Rebecca decided that she and Delmond had best be getting back to Greymantle's manor. They both had their assignments for their wizardly mentor to finish up, write-ups on their most recent magical experiments - Rebecca on the casting of the <em>whispering wind</em> spell, Delmond on the creation of the magical inks necessary to create a scroll containing the <em>disguise self</em> spell. (He'd been having trouble getting the amount of chameleon's blood just right, and offered without any luck to purchase any such ink the adventurers might have on hand.) Everyone finished up the ale in their mugs and went their separate ways, Rebecca and Delmond off to the right from the Pit-Fight's front door and the Wing Three adventurers off to the left.</p><p></p><p>After several minutes of walking through the now-foggy streets, the group heard a strangled cry coming from an alleyway ahead. Rushing to the alleyway, they saw two forms in an embrace up against a wall, about halfway down the narrow gap between two brick buildings. At the sound of the heroes' approach, one of the two turned to face them, his mouth covered in the blood of his victim. He took a step back, allowing the victim - now visible as none other than the hapless beggar Galrich had tossed a pouch of gold to earlier that evening - to collapse in an unliving heap upon the cobblestones of the filthy alleyway.</p><p></p><p>"Vampire!" called out Feron, as she cast a <em>call lightning</em> spell to drop a bolt of electricity down upon the vampire. Galrich raced down the alley, his greatsword flashing; Aerik struggled to keep up with his liege. Thunderwolf followed suit, his sentient sword Xanthros in hand, leaving only Feron and Telgrane still standing in the street.</p><p></p><p>But the vampire wasn't alone, for another of his foul breed stepped from the shadows deeper in the alleyway, and then yet another from the opposite side of the alley. Another dropped down from high up the wall of the building, making four in all.</p><p></p><p>And then the rats appeared.</p><p></p><p>This was a great swarm of rats, a gray-brown-black wave of bodies with matted fur and biting incisors, piling onto themselves in an effort to reach the heroes. The Styes was by far the poorest section of Greyhawk City, but these rats were many times over again of a number one would expect to see in even their dirtiest alleyways.</p><p></p><p>Telgrane took a further step backwards and cast an <em>incendiary cloud</em> spell, using his Archmage training to shape it around his companions so that only the vampires and allied rats were in the burning cloud of vapors. He followed this up by summoning a greater fire elemental, and was pleased to see that this time his summoned ally wasn't immediately whisked away by the forces of an arcane ritual. The fire elemental smashed a flaming fist into the nearest vampire, setting it ablaze.</p><p></p><p>It was at this time that the last player entered the fray. This was a burly vampire clad in black armor, who stepped up behind Feron and Telgrane and cut at the Archmage with an ebon greatsword. The blade bit deep into Telgrane's side, and he cried out in pain as blood cascaded down his abdomen. As he fell to the cobblestones, his gashed side flowing freely, he popped open his tinder box and Infernia emerged.</p><p></p><p>"MASTER!" she cried out in alarm at the sight of Telgrane holding his side, blood trickling through his fingers. Then she spun and faced Telgrane's attacker, fury flashing in her eyes. Feron stepped over and cast a healing spell upon the wounded Archmage, and Telgrane felt the deep gash knitting itself shut. "It's a <em>sword of wounding</em>!" he called out to the others, warning them of the greatsword's properties, having learned of them the hard way. Galrich's eyebrows shot up at the warning - he'd always wanted one of those! He spun around and started making his way back to the street, eager to engage the newcomer with the black blade.</p><p></p><p>Telgrane stepped into the vapors from his <em>incendiary cloud</em> spell, trusting in his <em>ring of fire protection</em> to keep him relatively safe. Infernia, after attacking the black-armored vampire with her fiery fists, stepped back to protect her master.</p><p></p><p>"It seems Cal is not among their number!" reported the warrior vampire, trading greatsword thrusts and swipes with Galrich. "No matter: keep at least one of them alive, and we'll trade their life for the cleric's god-touched blood!"</p><p></p><p>"<em>That's</em> what this is all about?" demanded Feron, resuming her lightning strikes and bringing them to bear on the black-clad vampire. By this time, many of the rat swarms had been incinerated by Telgrane's spell or his elder fire elemental, and the alleyway smelled heavily of burned rat. "You want a taste test of Cal's blood?"</p><p></p><p>"None is more worthy than <strong>Jathrig Blacksnake, the Dark Reaver</strong>, to sample the blood of a god running through a mortal's veins!" responded the vampire leader; the other undead were apparently his spawn, for they did not seem to have the same level of power or endurance as their vampiric overlord - in fact, by this point, two of them had been slain, reverting to gaseous form and drifting away to blend in with the night's fog.</p><p></p><p>Thunderwolf was holding his own against one of the vampire spawn deep in the alleyway, but could have done a better job of things without the rats crawling up his legs and biting him with their wicked teeth. He was glad that there was a Huge being composed of living flames at his side, doing as much if not more damage to their undead enemies than Thunderwolf was inflicting with Xanthros. "Keep at it, son!" enthused the sentient blade, cheering on his wielder, and groaning inwardly when the young fighter took the occasional break from battle to scrape rats off of his body with the magic blade.</p><p></p><p>Still, the Dark Reaver soon discovered that his plan to overpower Cal's adventuring companions was not going at all as he had anticipated; who could have foreseen that the cleric's compatriots were so well-versed in magic? Still, he was a vampire, and he was certain that even if his undead body were slain, he'd be able to escape as mist to his hidden lair beneath the streets, among the sewers of the Styes, to regenerate slowly in his coffin. And he was immortal; there would be other times to try again to gain Cal's deific blood for himself.</p><p></p><p>And that's exactly what happened. Jathrig Blacksnake fought valiantly and fought hard, but he was outclassed once his four vampire spawn were slain and the remaining rats scattered to safety. As Galrich's final blow nearly cut him in twain, he took a moment to bring his ebon greatsword up in a final salute to a surprisingly worthy foe before exploding into a fine mist, which mingled with the fog and hid the vampire's insubstantial form as it seeped away down a drainage hole.</p><p></p><p>"Aw, crap!" cried out Galrich in disappointment as he saw the Dark Reaver's sword become mist along with the rest of the vampire's armor and equipment. "I wanted his sword!"</p><p></p><p>"Well, here's a small consolation prize," said Thunderwolf, scooping up a coin pouch from the slain beggar's side and tossing it to the half-orc, who snatched it out of the air with one hand. "You got your bag of coins back from the old beggar you gave them to."</p><p></p><p>"Is he dead?" asked Feron, a sad look on her face. Thunderwolf felt for a pulse and then nodded over to the druid, who closed the beggar's eyes and laid him out in a more natural-looking position. "Poor old man," she lamented. "It looks like he had a hard life."</p><p></p><p>"Well, like I always say--" started Galrich, before disappearing from the rest of the group in the blink of an eye, causing Aerik to nearly die in a fit of apoplexy. "Where'd he go?" the dwarf demanded to the empty alleyway at large. <em>"I'm supposed to be guarding him!"</em></p><p></p><p>But there was no obvious answer, for Galrich was gone.</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>And of course, having read the previous adventure, you all know exactly where Galrich went. The two groups eventually met back up at the Guild Headquarters and traded stories. As a result, they've learned the following: <ul> <li data-xf-list-type="ul">The meaning of Pinwhistle's divination about Cal: "To those subsisting on sips of water, the mere chance for a taste of nectar may be too great a temptation to pass up."</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul">Grottlepox's mirrors holding the reflections of five of the Wing Three adventurers do not hold them forever but rather release them after a single use. However, they can be "reloaded" if you get your reflection captured in them again.</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul">Jathrig Blacksnake the Dark Reaver was not permanently defeated, and will likely attack again. Delphyne's hoping she'll be there the next time he attacks, so she can use Thorvik Bleakwinter's amulet on him.</li> </ul><p></p><p>And now that you've read the name of this adventure, if you compare it to the previous adventure's name (and if you're a "South Park" fan) you can see how irresistible it was for me to give the old beggar the name I gave him. What can I say? I failed my Will save and had no choice in the matter!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 6124543, member: 508"] [b]ADVENTURE 67 - YOU KILLED KENNY![/b] PC Roster: [INDENT]Feron Dru, half-elven druid Galrich Slayer, half-orc barbarian Telgrane, human conjurer Thunderwolf, human fighter[/INDENT] NPC Roster: [INDENT]Aerik Battershield, dwarven fighter/dwarven defender[/INDENT] As a reminder, this adventure occurred concurrently with "You Bastard!" - while Dan was running Cal through that one, the other players were running their PCs through this short adventure. - - - Feron sat in the common area of the Wing Three living quarters, when she suddenly felt the presence of a magical effect swirling around her, like a hidden breeze. Suddenly, an unseen feminine voice whispered, "It's Rebecca, trying out the [i]whispering wind[/i] spell. Delmond and I will be at the Pit-Fight tonight. Meet us there at 7 bells for dinner?" The half-elf smiled. While the Pit-Fight wasn't her favorite eating - or drinking - establishment, she looked forward to seeing Rebecca again. She passed the invitation on to a couple of the other members of Wing Three who were available. "Can't go," grumbled Cal, heading back to his room after having been summoned to go see Guildmaster Farthingale. "Gotta go see some stupid nobleman on some stupid dinner-date mission." Hours later, just before 7 bells, a group of five Wing Three adventurers strode up to the Pit-Fight. Feron had convinced Thunderwolf to come simply on the draw of it being a haven for adventurers; the young fighter thought the world of adventurers and was still amazed that he was now working among their ranks on a day-to-day basis. Galrich came along to watch the night's combats in the Pit, and if the future King of Kordovia was going to go, then his trusted bodyguard Aerik was going to be there as well. Telgrane tagged along on the off chance that Dr. Greymantle might show up along with his apprentices; having recently attained the title of Archmage himself, he was eager to appear before the great wizard as someone of equal rank. Before they could get into the front door, though, they were accosted by a filthy-looking beggar. "Got any excess coppers you might have taking up valuable room in your change-purses?" he asked with a phlegmatic cough. "Old Kenny'd be more than happy to take them off of your hands for you, if you like." Galrich took the opportunity to fling a small bag of coins at the elderly vagabond. Old Kenny peered inside it and saw the glint of gold, then quickly buried it inside his filthy shirt and looked around to see if any of the lowlifes of the Styes had caught sight of his sudden fortune. "Thank you mightily, m'lord!" stammered the beggar, before hobbling away to some hidden bolt-hole where he slept when not actively begging for coins or scraps of food. Feron watched the poor old fellow stagger away. "If anybody sees him with that much money on hand, they'll likely slit his throat without a second thought," she commented. "You may have just signed his death warrant." "He'll be fine," scoffed Galrich. "You don't get to be to his ripe old age without learning a thing or two to surviving in the streets." "You're right about the 'ripe' part, in any case," remarked Telgrane under his breath, holding a hand over his nose as Old Kenny's less-than-aromatic stench lingered on a bit after the beggar's departure. The group entered the Pit-Fight and were immediately hailed by Rebecca, who had already reserved a table, and Delmond, who was at the bar grabbing up the evening's first pitcher of ale. Galrich nodded his hello and then ambled over to the Pit to see who was fighting that evening. Aerik, naturally, followed suit. Telgrane sat Feron into a chair by Rebecca and then sat down across the table from them. One of the waitresses ambled over and took everyone's order. Pork was the main course of the night, as a fierce boar ("Tusky the Terrible," a favored pit-fighter this past week) had been slain just the previous evening in the Pit. Dinner conversation was pleasant, with Dr. Greymantle's two apprentices eager to maintain friendships with people as powerful as the Wing Three adventurers. Dr. Greymantle and Pinwhistle were easily as powerful as those of Wing Three, but they pursued various academic pursuits in lieu of actively adventuring themselves. Telgrane entertained the two with a detailed description of their recent encounter with Ignus Bloodstone, the Magma Mage, up in the volcanic mountains near Kordovia, at which time Rebecca pointed out that Dr. Greymantle - "Thag," as she called him, which earned her some ribbing from Delmond - had been in correspondence with another Archmage who specialized in the study of the Elemental Plane of Fire. Intrigued, Telgrane extracted a promise from Rebecca to find out this Archmage's name, for he said he would love to talk to such a person. The conversation turned to other topics, such as the apprentices' studies, and then at the 9-bell note Rebecca decided that she and Delmond had best be getting back to Greymantle's manor. They both had their assignments for their wizardly mentor to finish up, write-ups on their most recent magical experiments - Rebecca on the casting of the [i]whispering wind[/i] spell, Delmond on the creation of the magical inks necessary to create a scroll containing the [i]disguise self[/i] spell. (He'd been having trouble getting the amount of chameleon's blood just right, and offered without any luck to purchase any such ink the adventurers might have on hand.) Everyone finished up the ale in their mugs and went their separate ways, Rebecca and Delmond off to the right from the Pit-Fight's front door and the Wing Three adventurers off to the left. After several minutes of walking through the now-foggy streets, the group heard a strangled cry coming from an alleyway ahead. Rushing to the alleyway, they saw two forms in an embrace up against a wall, about halfway down the narrow gap between two brick buildings. At the sound of the heroes' approach, one of the two turned to face them, his mouth covered in the blood of his victim. He took a step back, allowing the victim - now visible as none other than the hapless beggar Galrich had tossed a pouch of gold to earlier that evening - to collapse in an unliving heap upon the cobblestones of the filthy alleyway. "Vampire!" called out Feron, as she cast a [i]call lightning[/i] spell to drop a bolt of electricity down upon the vampire. Galrich raced down the alley, his greatsword flashing; Aerik struggled to keep up with his liege. Thunderwolf followed suit, his sentient sword Xanthros in hand, leaving only Feron and Telgrane still standing in the street. But the vampire wasn't alone, for another of his foul breed stepped from the shadows deeper in the alleyway, and then yet another from the opposite side of the alley. Another dropped down from high up the wall of the building, making four in all. And then the rats appeared. This was a great swarm of rats, a gray-brown-black wave of bodies with matted fur and biting incisors, piling onto themselves in an effort to reach the heroes. The Styes was by far the poorest section of Greyhawk City, but these rats were many times over again of a number one would expect to see in even their dirtiest alleyways. Telgrane took a further step backwards and cast an [i]incendiary cloud[/i] spell, using his Archmage training to shape it around his companions so that only the vampires and allied rats were in the burning cloud of vapors. He followed this up by summoning a greater fire elemental, and was pleased to see that this time his summoned ally wasn't immediately whisked away by the forces of an arcane ritual. The fire elemental smashed a flaming fist into the nearest vampire, setting it ablaze. It was at this time that the last player entered the fray. This was a burly vampire clad in black armor, who stepped up behind Feron and Telgrane and cut at the Archmage with an ebon greatsword. The blade bit deep into Telgrane's side, and he cried out in pain as blood cascaded down his abdomen. As he fell to the cobblestones, his gashed side flowing freely, he popped open his tinder box and Infernia emerged. "MASTER!" she cried out in alarm at the sight of Telgrane holding his side, blood trickling through his fingers. Then she spun and faced Telgrane's attacker, fury flashing in her eyes. Feron stepped over and cast a healing spell upon the wounded Archmage, and Telgrane felt the deep gash knitting itself shut. "It's a [i]sword of wounding[/i]!" he called out to the others, warning them of the greatsword's properties, having learned of them the hard way. Galrich's eyebrows shot up at the warning - he'd always wanted one of those! He spun around and started making his way back to the street, eager to engage the newcomer with the black blade. Telgrane stepped into the vapors from his [i]incendiary cloud[/i] spell, trusting in his [i]ring of fire protection[/i] to keep him relatively safe. Infernia, after attacking the black-armored vampire with her fiery fists, stepped back to protect her master. "It seems Cal is not among their number!" reported the warrior vampire, trading greatsword thrusts and swipes with Galrich. "No matter: keep at least one of them alive, and we'll trade their life for the cleric's god-touched blood!" "[i]That's[/i] what this is all about?" demanded Feron, resuming her lightning strikes and bringing them to bear on the black-clad vampire. By this time, many of the rat swarms had been incinerated by Telgrane's spell or his elder fire elemental, and the alleyway smelled heavily of burned rat. "You want a taste test of Cal's blood?" "None is more worthy than [b]Jathrig Blacksnake, the Dark Reaver[/b], to sample the blood of a god running through a mortal's veins!" responded the vampire leader; the other undead were apparently his spawn, for they did not seem to have the same level of power or endurance as their vampiric overlord - in fact, by this point, two of them had been slain, reverting to gaseous form and drifting away to blend in with the night's fog. Thunderwolf was holding his own against one of the vampire spawn deep in the alleyway, but could have done a better job of things without the rats crawling up his legs and biting him with their wicked teeth. He was glad that there was a Huge being composed of living flames at his side, doing as much if not more damage to their undead enemies than Thunderwolf was inflicting with Xanthros. "Keep at it, son!" enthused the sentient blade, cheering on his wielder, and groaning inwardly when the young fighter took the occasional break from battle to scrape rats off of his body with the magic blade. Still, the Dark Reaver soon discovered that his plan to overpower Cal's adventuring companions was not going at all as he had anticipated; who could have foreseen that the cleric's compatriots were so well-versed in magic? Still, he was a vampire, and he was certain that even if his undead body were slain, he'd be able to escape as mist to his hidden lair beneath the streets, among the sewers of the Styes, to regenerate slowly in his coffin. And he was immortal; there would be other times to try again to gain Cal's deific blood for himself. And that's exactly what happened. Jathrig Blacksnake fought valiantly and fought hard, but he was outclassed once his four vampire spawn were slain and the remaining rats scattered to safety. As Galrich's final blow nearly cut him in twain, he took a moment to bring his ebon greatsword up in a final salute to a surprisingly worthy foe before exploding into a fine mist, which mingled with the fog and hid the vampire's insubstantial form as it seeped away down a drainage hole. "Aw, crap!" cried out Galrich in disappointment as he saw the Dark Reaver's sword become mist along with the rest of the vampire's armor and equipment. "I wanted his sword!" "Well, here's a small consolation prize," said Thunderwolf, scooping up a coin pouch from the slain beggar's side and tossing it to the half-orc, who snatched it out of the air with one hand. "You got your bag of coins back from the old beggar you gave them to." "Is he dead?" asked Feron, a sad look on her face. Thunderwolf felt for a pulse and then nodded over to the druid, who closed the beggar's eyes and laid him out in a more natural-looking position. "Poor old man," she lamented. "It looks like he had a hard life." "Well, like I always say--" started Galrich, before disappearing from the rest of the group in the blink of an eye, causing Aerik to nearly die in a fit of apoplexy. "Where'd he go?" the dwarf demanded to the empty alleyway at large. [i]"I'm supposed to be guarding him!"[/i] But there was no obvious answer, for Galrich was gone. - - - And of course, having read the previous adventure, you all know exactly where Galrich went. The two groups eventually met back up at the Guild Headquarters and traded stories. As a result, they've learned the following:[list][*]The meaning of Pinwhistle's divination about Cal: "To those subsisting on sips of water, the mere chance for a taste of nectar may be too great a temptation to pass up." [*]Grottlepox's mirrors holding the reflections of five of the Wing Three adventurers do not hold them forever but rather release them after a single use. However, they can be "reloaded" if you get your reflection captured in them again. [*]Jathrig Blacksnake the Dark Reaver was not permanently defeated, and will likely attack again. Delphyne's hoping she'll be there the next time he attacks, so she can use Thorvik Bleakwinter's amulet on him.[/list] And now that you've read the name of this adventure, if you compare it to the previous adventure's name (and if you're a "South Park" fan) you can see how irresistible it was for me to give the old beggar the name I gave him. What can I say? I failed my Will save and had no choice in the matter! [/QUOTE]
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