JollyDoc's Shackled City
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Hey, I take that as an insult of every gnomish character I've ever played...
Ok, so I've only played one gnomish character so far...
, still it's not nice.
Although come to think of it, those big gnomish noses CAN be pretty scary!
Aw, what the heck, I agree...
Ok, so I've only played one gnomish character so far...
, still it's not nice. Although come to think of it, those big gnomish noses CAN be pretty scary!
Aw, what the heck, I agree...
JollyDoc
Explorer
CHOKE HOLD
“What is this ‘Malachite Fortress’ you speak of?” Salazar asked. “Wasn’t there a reference to such a place in Jenya’s Divination?”
“ ‘Descend into the Malachite Hold, Where precious life is bought with gold.’” Tilly intoned brightly.
“The Malachite Fortress is a dwarven stronghold founded by my clansman, Zenith Splintershield.” Rusty said, “He and many others of me kinsmen left our home some one-hundred years past to establish this place at an entrance into the Underdark. Zenith thought to guard this passage against Drow incursions. Since that time we have been in frequent contact with him. However, it has now been over a year since last we had any word. Me clan sent me to find out what’s happened. Durin’ my time in the city above, I learned the location of this gnome enclave. Zenith told us there was gnome neighbors nearby to the Fortress.”
“Then perhaps this place is where the prisoners are being held,” Sal said thoughtfully. “Perhaps your people are being held captive as well.”
“Then let’s be findin’ the way down below,” Rusty snarled, “If I find any of me kin’s been harmed, there’ll be Hell t’pay!”
Pez once again took the lead, guiding the group deeper into the bowels of Jzadirune. He came upon a chamber whose vaulted ceiling was supported by four ornate pillars. Glowing lanterns hung in the corners of the room. Tattered red curtains dangled from iron rods mounted to the walls and pillars. Four rows of carved benches stood between the pillars. Partially set into the south wall was a raised wooden stage. Black curtains partially concealed its back wall, which was painted with an elaborate woodland mural. Pez motioned the others to hold back, and he crept quietly up to the stage to peer beyond the curtains.
He was startled when one of the stage curtains fluttered and a small figure stepped out from behind it. It appeared to be a baby black bear at first, but closer inspection revealed that it was a gnome wearing a bear costume. The creature took center stage, raised a paw to its lips, and began speaking softly, “Night hath fallen in the Magic Woods, and while myriad woodland creatures dream, Willowbough and her faerie friends frolic beneath the sorcerous moon.”
The bear-gnome then curled up into a ball and feigned sleep. Moments later, a female gnome with briars for hair materialized on stage as if she were standing invisibly a moment ago, and began dancing. Solemn music filled the theater as butterfly-winged faeries appeared from back stage and joined the ballet.
Pez stood, bewildered, watching the play unfold. One by one, his companions drifted into the room. Rusty took a seat on one of the benches, and watched raptly. Tilly soon joined him, smiling foolishly. Sal and Oso took up positions in opposite corners of the chamber, watching the exits, but they too were drawn by the performance.
As time passed, the group bore witness to the drama of Willowbough and Silverarrow, a somber tale of a dryad who fell in love with a ranger, and Moontusk, the ranger’s bitter wereboar nemesis who strove to ruin their love by destroying the dryad’s sacred tree.
When the play was done, Rusty stood and applauded enthusiastically, “Bravo! Bravo! Encore!” Tilly giggled like a child. Pez turned and scowled at both of them. “Salazar,” he said, “come with me. Let’s find out what’s going on here.”
The pair climbed cautiously onto the stage, and pushed the curtains aside. A trapdoor stood closed in the floor behind. Sal leaned close to the door, pressing his ear against it. Dimly, he heard a faint slithering sound. He put his finger to his lips, and grabbed the handle, counting on his fingers…one…two…three…
He ripped the door open, revealing a dark crawlspace below, but before his eyes could adjust to the darkness, an unnaturally long, rubbery, gray arm shot out of the opening, locking the tentacle-like fingers of its hand around his throat. The rogue was then jerked bodily through the trap door and into the shadows beyond.
“Trouble!” Pez shouted, and he leaped into the hole, ducking down to see into the gloom. There, Sal struggled madly to unlock the fingers from his neck. Pez could now see that the appendage belonged to a small, feral beast that at least superficially resembled a skulk. This creature, however, had wickedly sharp fangs, and its arms were at least ten feet in length. Sal’s face was turning blue, and his efforts were becoming weaker. Pez quickly focused his mind, and a dim, blue light appeared around his hands. He quickly reached out to touch Sal, and some of the color returned to the human’s features.
With a mighty effort, Sal managed to twist in the monster’s grip, causing it to loosen just a fraction. That was the chance he needed to wiggle free, and roll behind Pez. He then climbed rapidly back out of the trapdoor, and lay on the stage floor, gasping for breath.
As Pez again gripped his sword and prepared to strike at the creature, its arm struck like a snake, seizing the big warrior’s throat as it had his companion. Then, with its other hand, it reached up and slammed the trapdoor, holding it shut and sealing Pez below.
By this time, Oso and Tilly had reached the stage. The ranger, sword in hand, pulled mightily on the held door, and was just able to wrench it free of the monster’s grip. At the same moment, Tilly bounded into the pit, tumbling as he went, and rolling up into a defensive crouch, with a shortsword in one hand, and a dagger in the other.
Suddenly, a second figure scrambled into the crawlspace, taking up a flanking position opposite Tilly. It was Sal, his face still ashen, but fury in his eyes. The two partners began a long-practiced dance, each feinting and thrusting at their opponent, as it was distracted with the other. In this manner, the thing was slowly weakened, until finally it released Pez and moved no more.
Pez stood, rubbing his neck as Sal and Tilly searched the creature’s lair. “I don’t know if this was all some elaborate gnomish trap, or if that beast came after the gnomes departed, but from now on, no one touch anything!”
He wandered towards the back of the room to a small archway. Glancing through, he saw what appeared to be a prop room, filled with an assortment of masks, costumes and other paraphernalia. His view was abruptly cut short as a gangly humanoid with the head of a wolf and wielding a rapier leaped from behind a wardrobe and rushed at him.
Pez snarled incoherently and swung his sword in a great arc, catching his attacker in mid-stride and nearly severing it in two at the waist.
As it still twitched on the ground, Pez saw that it wore a wolf mask, and beneath was another skulk. This one, however, had the same transparent cast as the Stalker they had met earlier. What type of place was this?
“We should rest,” Oso said, looking over the other elf’s shoulder, “Sal is badly wounded, and you don’t look well yourself. Let us go back to the gnome’s shop and regroup there to discuss our next course of action.”
“What is this ‘Malachite Fortress’ you speak of?” Salazar asked. “Wasn’t there a reference to such a place in Jenya’s Divination?”
“ ‘Descend into the Malachite Hold, Where precious life is bought with gold.’” Tilly intoned brightly.
“The Malachite Fortress is a dwarven stronghold founded by my clansman, Zenith Splintershield.” Rusty said, “He and many others of me kinsmen left our home some one-hundred years past to establish this place at an entrance into the Underdark. Zenith thought to guard this passage against Drow incursions. Since that time we have been in frequent contact with him. However, it has now been over a year since last we had any word. Me clan sent me to find out what’s happened. Durin’ my time in the city above, I learned the location of this gnome enclave. Zenith told us there was gnome neighbors nearby to the Fortress.”
“Then perhaps this place is where the prisoners are being held,” Sal said thoughtfully. “Perhaps your people are being held captive as well.”
“Then let’s be findin’ the way down below,” Rusty snarled, “If I find any of me kin’s been harmed, there’ll be Hell t’pay!”
Pez once again took the lead, guiding the group deeper into the bowels of Jzadirune. He came upon a chamber whose vaulted ceiling was supported by four ornate pillars. Glowing lanterns hung in the corners of the room. Tattered red curtains dangled from iron rods mounted to the walls and pillars. Four rows of carved benches stood between the pillars. Partially set into the south wall was a raised wooden stage. Black curtains partially concealed its back wall, which was painted with an elaborate woodland mural. Pez motioned the others to hold back, and he crept quietly up to the stage to peer beyond the curtains.
He was startled when one of the stage curtains fluttered and a small figure stepped out from behind it. It appeared to be a baby black bear at first, but closer inspection revealed that it was a gnome wearing a bear costume. The creature took center stage, raised a paw to its lips, and began speaking softly, “Night hath fallen in the Magic Woods, and while myriad woodland creatures dream, Willowbough and her faerie friends frolic beneath the sorcerous moon.”
The bear-gnome then curled up into a ball and feigned sleep. Moments later, a female gnome with briars for hair materialized on stage as if she were standing invisibly a moment ago, and began dancing. Solemn music filled the theater as butterfly-winged faeries appeared from back stage and joined the ballet.
Pez stood, bewildered, watching the play unfold. One by one, his companions drifted into the room. Rusty took a seat on one of the benches, and watched raptly. Tilly soon joined him, smiling foolishly. Sal and Oso took up positions in opposite corners of the chamber, watching the exits, but they too were drawn by the performance.
As time passed, the group bore witness to the drama of Willowbough and Silverarrow, a somber tale of a dryad who fell in love with a ranger, and Moontusk, the ranger’s bitter wereboar nemesis who strove to ruin their love by destroying the dryad’s sacred tree.
When the play was done, Rusty stood and applauded enthusiastically, “Bravo! Bravo! Encore!” Tilly giggled like a child. Pez turned and scowled at both of them. “Salazar,” he said, “come with me. Let’s find out what’s going on here.”
The pair climbed cautiously onto the stage, and pushed the curtains aside. A trapdoor stood closed in the floor behind. Sal leaned close to the door, pressing his ear against it. Dimly, he heard a faint slithering sound. He put his finger to his lips, and grabbed the handle, counting on his fingers…one…two…three…
He ripped the door open, revealing a dark crawlspace below, but before his eyes could adjust to the darkness, an unnaturally long, rubbery, gray arm shot out of the opening, locking the tentacle-like fingers of its hand around his throat. The rogue was then jerked bodily through the trap door and into the shadows beyond.
“Trouble!” Pez shouted, and he leaped into the hole, ducking down to see into the gloom. There, Sal struggled madly to unlock the fingers from his neck. Pez could now see that the appendage belonged to a small, feral beast that at least superficially resembled a skulk. This creature, however, had wickedly sharp fangs, and its arms were at least ten feet in length. Sal’s face was turning blue, and his efforts were becoming weaker. Pez quickly focused his mind, and a dim, blue light appeared around his hands. He quickly reached out to touch Sal, and some of the color returned to the human’s features.
With a mighty effort, Sal managed to twist in the monster’s grip, causing it to loosen just a fraction. That was the chance he needed to wiggle free, and roll behind Pez. He then climbed rapidly back out of the trapdoor, and lay on the stage floor, gasping for breath.
As Pez again gripped his sword and prepared to strike at the creature, its arm struck like a snake, seizing the big warrior’s throat as it had his companion. Then, with its other hand, it reached up and slammed the trapdoor, holding it shut and sealing Pez below.
By this time, Oso and Tilly had reached the stage. The ranger, sword in hand, pulled mightily on the held door, and was just able to wrench it free of the monster’s grip. At the same moment, Tilly bounded into the pit, tumbling as he went, and rolling up into a defensive crouch, with a shortsword in one hand, and a dagger in the other.
Suddenly, a second figure scrambled into the crawlspace, taking up a flanking position opposite Tilly. It was Sal, his face still ashen, but fury in his eyes. The two partners began a long-practiced dance, each feinting and thrusting at their opponent, as it was distracted with the other. In this manner, the thing was slowly weakened, until finally it released Pez and moved no more.
Pez stood, rubbing his neck as Sal and Tilly searched the creature’s lair. “I don’t know if this was all some elaborate gnomish trap, or if that beast came after the gnomes departed, but from now on, no one touch anything!”
He wandered towards the back of the room to a small archway. Glancing through, he saw what appeared to be a prop room, filled with an assortment of masks, costumes and other paraphernalia. His view was abruptly cut short as a gangly humanoid with the head of a wolf and wielding a rapier leaped from behind a wardrobe and rushed at him.
Pez snarled incoherently and swung his sword in a great arc, catching his attacker in mid-stride and nearly severing it in two at the waist.
As it still twitched on the ground, Pez saw that it wore a wolf mask, and beneath was another skulk. This one, however, had the same transparent cast as the Stalker they had met earlier. What type of place was this?
“We should rest,” Oso said, looking over the other elf’s shoulder, “Sal is badly wounded, and you don’t look well yourself. Let us go back to the gnome’s shop and regroup there to discuss our next course of action.”
Lela
First Post
Okay, now the creepy monsters have decided to start putting on masks. Why? No one knows. They look scary enough already as it is.
Maybe they're nature lovers or wolf worshipers. Then again, if their dream was always to become great actors and they were turned down, kidnapping and slavery might be their revenge.
Maybe they're nature lovers or wolf worshipers. Then again, if their dream was always to become great actors and they were turned down, kidnapping and slavery might be their revenge.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
They sure do retreat a lot. The group sure plays a lot more carefully when they don't have access to 9th level spells...
Just teasing...
The group sure plays a lot more carefully when they don't have access to 9th level spells... Just teasing...
JollyDoc
Explorer
Lela said:
Oh, you know, when you're a lonely skulk and you just happen to stumble across a gnomish trove of costumes and play props your silly side sometimes take over. Why, the poor creature may have just been looking for some company to perform a new play, but alas we shall never know thanks to that hot-head Pez
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