Yup. We killed a dragon. You know, it strikes me that the most amazing thing about this first session is that despite the abundant clues, we (or at least Gann) did not actually expect to face a dragon. Sure, that crazy trapper warned us about the dragon. Heck, the pseudodragon's scouting report all but gave it away. And yet I was genuinely surprised when that lightning bolt nearly did in our peck. From here on out, Gann is going to start taking seriously any and all dropped hints, clues, omens, auguries, muttered warnings, etc. Brian, you gonna post story hour updates with the "between sessions" stuff from your website message boards? Could be pretty cool.
-
The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is LIVE! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Campaign of DM Cthulu Ftaghn
- Thread starter cthuluftaghn
- Start date
cthuluftaghn
First Post
Yes, I do intend to post "between sessions" updates. I was hoping to get more participation from the rest of the group first, though. If you could give Tyris a prod, I'll work on Willow and Davok.
With Tas and Endora moving within the next two weeks, and having visitors for the summer, they're out of commission for a while. We'll be introducing two brand new PC's between now and June 29th!!
With Tas and Endora moving within the next two weeks, and having visitors for the summer, they're out of commission for a while. We'll be introducing two brand new PC's between now and June 29th!!
cthuluftaghn
First Post
New Website Feature
Come visit my website and check out the latest feature!
I've added a section for After Dinner Encounters. They are actually written as stand-alone, single encounter mini-adventures to be played one-on-one with my eight year old son before bedtime, several times a week.
However, for the sake of my website, I'll be editing each one as it's posted, so you can easily insert any one of my After Dinner Encounters into your campaign. I will do my best to include all enemy stats, treasure, suggested XP awards, and important terrain details with every encounter I post. All scenarios will be straight from my imagination, and all maps will be custom drawn in Paint Shop Pro. If you notice that anything is strikingly similar to any encounter you've seen before, I assure you that it will be unintentional, but feel free to let me know! If I use anybody else's material, I'll give credit where credit is due.
Right now (6/10/02, late night), there is only one EL 2 encounter posted. I hope to add 3-4 new encounters each week, and the difficulty will grow as Zach's character gets stronger.
p.s. Does anybody besides Jodo Kast read these posts, or do y'all just go straight to my website?
Come visit my website and check out the latest feature!
I've added a section for After Dinner Encounters. They are actually written as stand-alone, single encounter mini-adventures to be played one-on-one with my eight year old son before bedtime, several times a week.
However, for the sake of my website, I'll be editing each one as it's posted, so you can easily insert any one of my After Dinner Encounters into your campaign. I will do my best to include all enemy stats, treasure, suggested XP awards, and important terrain details with every encounter I post. All scenarios will be straight from my imagination, and all maps will be custom drawn in Paint Shop Pro. If you notice that anything is strikingly similar to any encounter you've seen before, I assure you that it will be unintentional, but feel free to let me know! If I use anybody else's material, I'll give credit where credit is due.
Right now (6/10/02, late night), there is only one EL 2 encounter posted. I hope to add 3-4 new encounters each week, and the difficulty will grow as Zach's character gets stronger.
p.s. Does anybody besides Jodo Kast read these posts, or do y'all just go straight to my website?
cthuluftaghn
First Post
Chapter 3: The Moathouse, Part Two
Thank you tleilaxu
28 Coldeven, Shortly After Midnight :
Another rat scampered across the courtyard as Davok watched with a bored expression on his big, ugly face. He and Willow had first watch, and it had been an uneventful three hours. Despite his wounds, the mighty barbarian insisted on staying awake until midwatch, while allowing his young druid friend to catch some shuteye. When the time came, he wandered over to Gann’s pallet and gently shook his foot. Instinctively, the cleric grabbed his mace and sat bolt-upright, ready to swing in an instant. Seeing the tired half-orc, he held his swing and smiled. “Ready to be relieved,” he asked?
“Nothin’ but some rats,” the half-orc declared. “I… stand… relieved….” and he was asleep. Gann stretched his weary muscles and took a swig from his waterskin before walking over to where Tas lay sleeping. He had a minor squabble with the halfing, before bedding down, over ownership of the mace he had found in the grand hall, along with a few other items they removed from a second corpse they discovered in the corner where Davok had fallen. Tas finally had to admit that the weapon was much too large for him to carry around with him. He reluctantly agreed to allow Willow to carry it in her magical bag of holding, along with any other loot they brought out of the moathouse. They would divvy up once they got back to the inn. Gann had won the argument, but he still wasn’t sure he could trust the halfling.
With that thought in mind, he gave Tas a swift kick in the thigh. “Wake up, rogue,” he whispered harshly. “Our turn on watch.” Tas opened his eyes and stared daggers at the cleric. Grumpily, he got up from his bed and trudged over to the steps to guard the open doorway into the great hall.
All was quiet for the first hour, or so. Even the well-disciplined disciple of St. Cuthbert struggled to stay awake. However, near the top of the second hour, Tas’s sensitive ears picked something up. It was coming from within the darkness of the great hall, and it sounded like gruff voices speaking in hushed tones. He couldn’t make out the words, though, and he signaled Gann to come listen.
The cleric scowled and trudged over to the stairs, but his face turned serious when he, too, heard the voices. “Orcish,” he declared. “Wake the others.”
As Gann listened, he heard what sounded like an argument between a pair of sentries, wondering what to do about the party of well-armed adventurers they had discovered sleeping in the courtyard. “What should we do… I don’t wanna get in trouble…. YOU wake ‘em up and tell ‘em…. I’m not gonna do it… wait ‘til mornin’…. what if they’re up to sumthin’…. not my fault if YOU didn’t tell, ‘em… tell ‘em in the mornin’… good idea…. ‘course it is,” and so forth.
By the time the whispering faded into the distance, the party was awake, albeit reluctantly, and armed. “There are two orc guards in there talking about us,” whispered Gann. “Seemed like they were debating about waiting until morning before telling their masters, whoever they may be, about our presence here. If we take them out now, they’ll never get that chance.”
“We’re already tire, hurt, and nearly out of spells,” Willow pointed out. “Maybe we should just pack up and leave, now.”
“And leave our evil enemy behind us to refortify their position? I don’t think so. On my mark, we attack,” Gann announced, forgetting to be quiet. Without waiting for a response, the vengeful cleric struck his flint to a torch, and charged into the great hall swinging his mace and bellowing a war cry. Not knowing what else to do, the rest of the group looked at each other for a moment before charging in after him. The entered the chamber waving their blades wildly before them, doing their best to look menacing.
The great hall was empty. No orcs. The chamber held nothing but six sleepy adventurers, waving their weapons in the air and shouting in the torchlight. Gann looked deflated. “Where did the evil go,” he wondered out loud? As if in response, a door opened up in the northeast corner of the room and an arrow flew past his ear and skittered harmlessly down the stairs. The door slammed shut, and a muffled voice could be heard cursing in common … “Drek! There’s a whole lot of ‘em out there!”
Gann grinned and ran to the door. Davok and the others followed close behind. They formed deadly half-circle around the opening and prepared their attack. Gann, once again, took charge and started explaining his plan. “Davok, you…”
“Graaaah!” cried Davok as he ripped open the door and charged inside. His orcish eyesight had no problem penetrating the darkness, and he immediately spotted his enemy. It wasn’t an orc, but a strange combination of a human and what appeared to be a hyena. No matter. Davok had been swinging his axe at enemies all afternoon and hadn’t killed anything with it yet. That just wouldn’t do. With one hefty swing, the barbarian cleaved the stunned sentry from shoulder to groin. It fell dead to Davok’s left… and his right.
Gann lunged into the room with his torch just in time to see a second creature drop his bow and raise his hands in the air. “I give up,” it grunted in crude common. “Dis is just a job. Not worth dying fer. I told him to just wait until morning, dumb dead lug.” Gann dragged the man-beast by the furry nape of its neck and pulled him into the great hall.
The party encircled their prisoner, and Gann began the interrogation. “What evil forces are you working for? What are you doing here,” he demanded?
“We were just supposed to watch that one downstairs. It was just a job, no big deal. But then the dragon came, and all bets were off.”
“Watch who, downstairs? If this is just a job, then who is paying you? Are you and your evil friends in the robes in league with the dragon?”
“Listen, I don’t know nuthin’ more than I told you already,” growled the beast. “Gnolls ain’t stupid, like most might think. We go where the money is, but we ain’t s’posed to get eaten or chopped in half for it. We was just supposed to watch the one downstairs until it was time to leave, and that’s all I know.” The gnoll was starting to get angry, and it was apparent that he just wanted to leave.
Willow reached into her pack and pulled something long and slithering out and brought it into the torchlight. “Perhaps my snake can help you to remember something else,” she said. The others stared at her, as she stood there holding a six foot long python in her hands. Tas made a mental note to watch for reptiles before snooping any of his companion’s packs.
Gann gave the gnoll a vicious shake and pierced him with a threatening stare. “Look, I don’t know nuthin’ else. Me and my partner wuz just comin’ upstairs to leave when we found you.”
“Well then,” remarked Gann, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “I guess I’ll just let you go, then. No harm done here, right?”
“Fine by me,” the gnoll agreed as he tried to push his way out of the circle of heroes. He crumpled to the ground as Gann thumped him across the back of the head with his mace.
“Now,” growled Gann, forcing the dazed sentry to his feet, “you’re going to tell us who else is ‘downstairs’ with you, and how many of them there are.”
Tas watched the whole ordeal with a bored expression. His finger played lightly across the trigger of his crossbow, and he grew restless.
“Grrrrr,” grumbled the gnoll. “Just some other gnolls workin’ in other parts down there with them people in robes. Got no idea… ack… grrrrpppppphhh …” The creature clutched at his throat, and blood spurted out from between his fingers as he fell to his knees. Finally, he toppled to the floor and died with a bubbly groan.
“What happened!” shouted Tyris. The group was on alert again. “Fihm, are you with us? Did you see anything?”
Fihm didn’t respond right away. Willow approached the fallen gnoll and took a closer look. “There’s a crossbow bolt sticking through his neck,” she observed.
“Ok,” shouted Gann. “Which one of us has a crossbow?!” The cleric’s rage was centered on Tas, who stood to the side with an innocent look on his face.
“I always have my crossbow out and ready,” he stated simply. “That’s nothing new.”
Furious, Gann stepped forward and flipped the corpse over with his foot, and everyone gasped. In addition to the bolt in his neck, an arrow was buried to the fletching in the gnoll’s chest. The party spread out and started searching the rafters for an unseen enemy as Tyris tried again to locate her familiar. “Fihm! Where are you? Is there somebody else here with us?”
“Zzzzzzhmm? Shhh… sleepy,” was the reply. “That little snot is sleeping now,” Tyris complained.
Tas stood in the middle of the hall looking confused. While the rest of the party continued their search of the great hall, he quietly bent down and removed a gold chain from the dead gnoll’s hand. He noticed the sentry was carrying it when he was first brought out into the light. Nobody else discovered anything out of the ordinary. Davok did, however, find the staircase that led beneath the moathouse. After a brief debate over whether they should return to town now, or explore downstairs, the party decided that “the one” the gnoll referred to just might be Spugnoir.
Gann, carrying the torch, took the lead. The stairs spilled out into a damp, dank room made of stone. Slime and algae covered the floor where moisture from the moat had soaked through the walls. The party immediately noticed a thick door on the western wall with a heavy padlock holding it shut from the outside. Reasoning that it looked like a prison cell, Gann strolled over and tried to force it open. The door gave a loud creak, but it didn’t open.
A sleepy voice from the other side of the door could be heard, complaining. “What y’all want now? Cain’t ya jes let me sleep, fer cryin’ out loud?” With hopeful looks on their faces, the party ushered Tas towards the door to try his hand at the lock. The halfling rogue pulled a wooden box out of one of his pouches, and he produced a slender tool that looked like a miniature kitchen fork. He inserted it into the lock, and with a “pop”, it fell open. Tas grinned smugly and stepped away as Endora tore the door open.
A stout man dressed in dirty, bloody rags leaped up from a cot in the corner of the filthy room. He looked ready to fight, until Willow spoke soothingly to him. “Are you Spugnoir?” she asked. The man slumped back down on the cot.
“Well, it’s about dang time them townsfolk sent me a rescue party. Been holed up in here fer days jes a’ waitin’. What took y’all so long? How’s my little girl?” Obviously, this was the missing potion maker.
“Well, sir,” Willow explained. “We’re not exactly a rescue party. You see, your daughter had a hard time convincing the militia that there was anything wrong. So, we just figured we’d see if we could help.”
“Don’t that jes soun’ like Elmo! Blowin’ me off agin’. I bin tellin’ him fer years that the evil’d come back to this here place. I’d march right back thar and give him what fer right now, if’n my head didn’t hurt quite so bad.” Spugnoir held his hand up to his forehead where a nasty cut could be seen in the torchlight. Gann reached out and, after a brief prayer, Spugnoir smiled. “Well, that feels much better. Thank y’all. Thank y’all a bunch! Tell ya what. I ain’t seen my girl in days, and she must be dang near havin’ a cow by now. Why don’t y’all jes help me get home, and I’ll tell y’all all about this place after a good night sleep. Draw yer a map an’ everythin’. In fact, if’n y’all come to my shop, I’ll knock a goodly price off my potions for ya fer bein’ so downright kind to me. How’s that sound?”
The group agreed that the potion maker’s bargain sounded like a good one, and none of them had any qualms about leaving the moathouse for now, to reconsider their approach. They escorted Spugnoir up the stairs and out across the drawbridge. They walked at a leisurely pace with weapons drawn, of course, and they questioned Spugnoir about what he had seen. They found out that he had gone down to the moathouse looking for a rare mushroom for his potion lab, and he was surprised to see activity. He prattled on about his story for most of the long trek back to Hommlet…
“There was all these folks in them weird yeller robes, and a bunch o’ those gnoll thugs carrying stuff in and out. They had diggin’ stuff, like it was fer some sort of mining excavation, er somthin’. I followed ‘em inside, and what a surprise when I saw the big hall were clear. Used to be, it was all jes piles o’ wood. I was watchin’ from the courtyard, and that’s when the dragon came. None o’ them fellers saw THAT one comin’, lemme tell ya. Heh Heh. They tried to fight it, but it bit their boss man’s head off, right quick. Threw them in quite a hissy for sure. I’d a run off there and then, but the big blue lizard saw me. Woulda got me too, if some gal in black didn’t run up and try to pop ‘im one from behind. He got her all ate up, too, but gave me a chance to skip down the stairs where I’d be safe. Well, safe as a man can be all holed up by a dragon in a den o’ gnoll thugs and yeller robed crazies. They got some girly girl in charge now, since their boss man got ‘imself ate up by the dragon. They beat me up good, tossed me in that room, an’ that’s where y’all found me. Glad ya did, too. I was getting’ mighty hungry.”
The exhausted party arrived back in Hommlet well after sunrise. They escorted Spugnoir all the way back to his shop. Along the way, Gann notice that they passed a large church dedicated to his patron deity, St. Cuthbert. When they reached the potion maker’s home, the ladies were delighted to see Renne come rushing out for a tearfully joyous reunion. The companions promised to go visit Spugnoir the next morning to collect their maps, and peruse his potion supply. They said their good-byes, and headed back across town.
The past twenty four hours had been quite eventful. Now, it was time to forget about their problems for a while and catch up on some much needed sleep. The Inn of the Welcome Wench was a very welcome sight, indeed! Their relief at arriving “home” was overshadowed by the knowledge of the evil they had discovered. Deep inside, each one of them knew that, even if they slept all the way through Growfest, when they awoke The Eagle would still be missing, and the dark forces gathering at the moathouse would continue to strengthen.
Somewhere on another plane, a shrouded form watched sadly as the party retired to their room on the second floor of the Inn of the Welcome Wench. With a sigh, the figure reached down, and blessed each and every one of them with a deep, and dreamless sleep.
Thus ends session one. Best quote of the evening:
Malessa (playing Willow): "Can I use my Sense Motive skill on the dragon?" (in the heat of combat)
Brian (DM Cthulu): "Sure. You sense that he's pissed."
Thank you tleilaxu
28 Coldeven, Shortly After Midnight :
Another rat scampered across the courtyard as Davok watched with a bored expression on his big, ugly face. He and Willow had first watch, and it had been an uneventful three hours. Despite his wounds, the mighty barbarian insisted on staying awake until midwatch, while allowing his young druid friend to catch some shuteye. When the time came, he wandered over to Gann’s pallet and gently shook his foot. Instinctively, the cleric grabbed his mace and sat bolt-upright, ready to swing in an instant. Seeing the tired half-orc, he held his swing and smiled. “Ready to be relieved,” he asked?
“Nothin’ but some rats,” the half-orc declared. “I… stand… relieved….” and he was asleep. Gann stretched his weary muscles and took a swig from his waterskin before walking over to where Tas lay sleeping. He had a minor squabble with the halfing, before bedding down, over ownership of the mace he had found in the grand hall, along with a few other items they removed from a second corpse they discovered in the corner where Davok had fallen. Tas finally had to admit that the weapon was much too large for him to carry around with him. He reluctantly agreed to allow Willow to carry it in her magical bag of holding, along with any other loot they brought out of the moathouse. They would divvy up once they got back to the inn. Gann had won the argument, but he still wasn’t sure he could trust the halfling.
With that thought in mind, he gave Tas a swift kick in the thigh. “Wake up, rogue,” he whispered harshly. “Our turn on watch.” Tas opened his eyes and stared daggers at the cleric. Grumpily, he got up from his bed and trudged over to the steps to guard the open doorway into the great hall.
All was quiet for the first hour, or so. Even the well-disciplined disciple of St. Cuthbert struggled to stay awake. However, near the top of the second hour, Tas’s sensitive ears picked something up. It was coming from within the darkness of the great hall, and it sounded like gruff voices speaking in hushed tones. He couldn’t make out the words, though, and he signaled Gann to come listen.
The cleric scowled and trudged over to the stairs, but his face turned serious when he, too, heard the voices. “Orcish,” he declared. “Wake the others.”
As Gann listened, he heard what sounded like an argument between a pair of sentries, wondering what to do about the party of well-armed adventurers they had discovered sleeping in the courtyard. “What should we do… I don’t wanna get in trouble…. YOU wake ‘em up and tell ‘em…. I’m not gonna do it… wait ‘til mornin’…. what if they’re up to sumthin’…. not my fault if YOU didn’t tell, ‘em… tell ‘em in the mornin’… good idea…. ‘course it is,” and so forth.
By the time the whispering faded into the distance, the party was awake, albeit reluctantly, and armed. “There are two orc guards in there talking about us,” whispered Gann. “Seemed like they were debating about waiting until morning before telling their masters, whoever they may be, about our presence here. If we take them out now, they’ll never get that chance.”
“We’re already tire, hurt, and nearly out of spells,” Willow pointed out. “Maybe we should just pack up and leave, now.”
“And leave our evil enemy behind us to refortify their position? I don’t think so. On my mark, we attack,” Gann announced, forgetting to be quiet. Without waiting for a response, the vengeful cleric struck his flint to a torch, and charged into the great hall swinging his mace and bellowing a war cry. Not knowing what else to do, the rest of the group looked at each other for a moment before charging in after him. The entered the chamber waving their blades wildly before them, doing their best to look menacing.
The great hall was empty. No orcs. The chamber held nothing but six sleepy adventurers, waving their weapons in the air and shouting in the torchlight. Gann looked deflated. “Where did the evil go,” he wondered out loud? As if in response, a door opened up in the northeast corner of the room and an arrow flew past his ear and skittered harmlessly down the stairs. The door slammed shut, and a muffled voice could be heard cursing in common … “Drek! There’s a whole lot of ‘em out there!”
Gann grinned and ran to the door. Davok and the others followed close behind. They formed deadly half-circle around the opening and prepared their attack. Gann, once again, took charge and started explaining his plan. “Davok, you…”
“Graaaah!” cried Davok as he ripped open the door and charged inside. His orcish eyesight had no problem penetrating the darkness, and he immediately spotted his enemy. It wasn’t an orc, but a strange combination of a human and what appeared to be a hyena. No matter. Davok had been swinging his axe at enemies all afternoon and hadn’t killed anything with it yet. That just wouldn’t do. With one hefty swing, the barbarian cleaved the stunned sentry from shoulder to groin. It fell dead to Davok’s left… and his right.
Gann lunged into the room with his torch just in time to see a second creature drop his bow and raise his hands in the air. “I give up,” it grunted in crude common. “Dis is just a job. Not worth dying fer. I told him to just wait until morning, dumb dead lug.” Gann dragged the man-beast by the furry nape of its neck and pulled him into the great hall.
The party encircled their prisoner, and Gann began the interrogation. “What evil forces are you working for? What are you doing here,” he demanded?
“We were just supposed to watch that one downstairs. It was just a job, no big deal. But then the dragon came, and all bets were off.”
“Watch who, downstairs? If this is just a job, then who is paying you? Are you and your evil friends in the robes in league with the dragon?”
“Listen, I don’t know nuthin’ more than I told you already,” growled the beast. “Gnolls ain’t stupid, like most might think. We go where the money is, but we ain’t s’posed to get eaten or chopped in half for it. We was just supposed to watch the one downstairs until it was time to leave, and that’s all I know.” The gnoll was starting to get angry, and it was apparent that he just wanted to leave.
Willow reached into her pack and pulled something long and slithering out and brought it into the torchlight. “Perhaps my snake can help you to remember something else,” she said. The others stared at her, as she stood there holding a six foot long python in her hands. Tas made a mental note to watch for reptiles before snooping any of his companion’s packs.
Gann gave the gnoll a vicious shake and pierced him with a threatening stare. “Look, I don’t know nuthin’ else. Me and my partner wuz just comin’ upstairs to leave when we found you.”
“Well then,” remarked Gann, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “I guess I’ll just let you go, then. No harm done here, right?”
“Fine by me,” the gnoll agreed as he tried to push his way out of the circle of heroes. He crumpled to the ground as Gann thumped him across the back of the head with his mace.
“Now,” growled Gann, forcing the dazed sentry to his feet, “you’re going to tell us who else is ‘downstairs’ with you, and how many of them there are.”
Tas watched the whole ordeal with a bored expression. His finger played lightly across the trigger of his crossbow, and he grew restless.
“Grrrrr,” grumbled the gnoll. “Just some other gnolls workin’ in other parts down there with them people in robes. Got no idea… ack… grrrrpppppphhh …” The creature clutched at his throat, and blood spurted out from between his fingers as he fell to his knees. Finally, he toppled to the floor and died with a bubbly groan.
“What happened!” shouted Tyris. The group was on alert again. “Fihm, are you with us? Did you see anything?”
Fihm didn’t respond right away. Willow approached the fallen gnoll and took a closer look. “There’s a crossbow bolt sticking through his neck,” she observed.
“Ok,” shouted Gann. “Which one of us has a crossbow?!” The cleric’s rage was centered on Tas, who stood to the side with an innocent look on his face.
“I always have my crossbow out and ready,” he stated simply. “That’s nothing new.”
Furious, Gann stepped forward and flipped the corpse over with his foot, and everyone gasped. In addition to the bolt in his neck, an arrow was buried to the fletching in the gnoll’s chest. The party spread out and started searching the rafters for an unseen enemy as Tyris tried again to locate her familiar. “Fihm! Where are you? Is there somebody else here with us?”
“Zzzzzzhmm? Shhh… sleepy,” was the reply. “That little snot is sleeping now,” Tyris complained.
Tas stood in the middle of the hall looking confused. While the rest of the party continued their search of the great hall, he quietly bent down and removed a gold chain from the dead gnoll’s hand. He noticed the sentry was carrying it when he was first brought out into the light. Nobody else discovered anything out of the ordinary. Davok did, however, find the staircase that led beneath the moathouse. After a brief debate over whether they should return to town now, or explore downstairs, the party decided that “the one” the gnoll referred to just might be Spugnoir.
Gann, carrying the torch, took the lead. The stairs spilled out into a damp, dank room made of stone. Slime and algae covered the floor where moisture from the moat had soaked through the walls. The party immediately noticed a thick door on the western wall with a heavy padlock holding it shut from the outside. Reasoning that it looked like a prison cell, Gann strolled over and tried to force it open. The door gave a loud creak, but it didn’t open.
A sleepy voice from the other side of the door could be heard, complaining. “What y’all want now? Cain’t ya jes let me sleep, fer cryin’ out loud?” With hopeful looks on their faces, the party ushered Tas towards the door to try his hand at the lock. The halfling rogue pulled a wooden box out of one of his pouches, and he produced a slender tool that looked like a miniature kitchen fork. He inserted it into the lock, and with a “pop”, it fell open. Tas grinned smugly and stepped away as Endora tore the door open.
A stout man dressed in dirty, bloody rags leaped up from a cot in the corner of the filthy room. He looked ready to fight, until Willow spoke soothingly to him. “Are you Spugnoir?” she asked. The man slumped back down on the cot.
“Well, it’s about dang time them townsfolk sent me a rescue party. Been holed up in here fer days jes a’ waitin’. What took y’all so long? How’s my little girl?” Obviously, this was the missing potion maker.
“Well, sir,” Willow explained. “We’re not exactly a rescue party. You see, your daughter had a hard time convincing the militia that there was anything wrong. So, we just figured we’d see if we could help.”
“Don’t that jes soun’ like Elmo! Blowin’ me off agin’. I bin tellin’ him fer years that the evil’d come back to this here place. I’d march right back thar and give him what fer right now, if’n my head didn’t hurt quite so bad.” Spugnoir held his hand up to his forehead where a nasty cut could be seen in the torchlight. Gann reached out and, after a brief prayer, Spugnoir smiled. “Well, that feels much better. Thank y’all. Thank y’all a bunch! Tell ya what. I ain’t seen my girl in days, and she must be dang near havin’ a cow by now. Why don’t y’all jes help me get home, and I’ll tell y’all all about this place after a good night sleep. Draw yer a map an’ everythin’. In fact, if’n y’all come to my shop, I’ll knock a goodly price off my potions for ya fer bein’ so downright kind to me. How’s that sound?”
The group agreed that the potion maker’s bargain sounded like a good one, and none of them had any qualms about leaving the moathouse for now, to reconsider their approach. They escorted Spugnoir up the stairs and out across the drawbridge. They walked at a leisurely pace with weapons drawn, of course, and they questioned Spugnoir about what he had seen. They found out that he had gone down to the moathouse looking for a rare mushroom for his potion lab, and he was surprised to see activity. He prattled on about his story for most of the long trek back to Hommlet…
“There was all these folks in them weird yeller robes, and a bunch o’ those gnoll thugs carrying stuff in and out. They had diggin’ stuff, like it was fer some sort of mining excavation, er somthin’. I followed ‘em inside, and what a surprise when I saw the big hall were clear. Used to be, it was all jes piles o’ wood. I was watchin’ from the courtyard, and that’s when the dragon came. None o’ them fellers saw THAT one comin’, lemme tell ya. Heh Heh. They tried to fight it, but it bit their boss man’s head off, right quick. Threw them in quite a hissy for sure. I’d a run off there and then, but the big blue lizard saw me. Woulda got me too, if some gal in black didn’t run up and try to pop ‘im one from behind. He got her all ate up, too, but gave me a chance to skip down the stairs where I’d be safe. Well, safe as a man can be all holed up by a dragon in a den o’ gnoll thugs and yeller robed crazies. They got some girly girl in charge now, since their boss man got ‘imself ate up by the dragon. They beat me up good, tossed me in that room, an’ that’s where y’all found me. Glad ya did, too. I was getting’ mighty hungry.”
The exhausted party arrived back in Hommlet well after sunrise. They escorted Spugnoir all the way back to his shop. Along the way, Gann notice that they passed a large church dedicated to his patron deity, St. Cuthbert. When they reached the potion maker’s home, the ladies were delighted to see Renne come rushing out for a tearfully joyous reunion. The companions promised to go visit Spugnoir the next morning to collect their maps, and peruse his potion supply. They said their good-byes, and headed back across town.
The past twenty four hours had been quite eventful. Now, it was time to forget about their problems for a while and catch up on some much needed sleep. The Inn of the Welcome Wench was a very welcome sight, indeed! Their relief at arriving “home” was overshadowed by the knowledge of the evil they had discovered. Deep inside, each one of them knew that, even if they slept all the way through Growfest, when they awoke The Eagle would still be missing, and the dark forces gathering at the moathouse would continue to strengthen.
Somewhere on another plane, a shrouded form watched sadly as the party retired to their room on the second floor of the Inn of the Welcome Wench. With a sigh, the figure reached down, and blessed each and every one of them with a deep, and dreamless sleep.
Thus ends session one. Best quote of the evening:
Malessa (playing Willow): "Can I use my Sense Motive skill on the dragon?" (in the heat of combat)
Brian (DM Cthulu): "Sure. You sense that he's pissed."
Last edited:
cthuluftaghn
First Post
Until next time...
Thank you.
That's all the new material I have written. Our next game session is Saturday, June 29th. I am working on an interlude to post here, and on my website, which will detail the events that took place between sessions in the town of Hommlet.
In the meantime, you can check out my After Dinner Encounters thread that I started last night.
ALSO... I'm starting to replace the artwork on the WORLD page with custom pencil sketches by my wife, Malessa. The items with custom artwork are surrounded by a blue border. Check them out!!
See y'all soon!
Cthulu
Thank you.
That's all the new material I have written. Our next game session is Saturday, June 29th. I am working on an interlude to post here, and on my website, which will detail the events that took place between sessions in the town of Hommlet.
In the meantime, you can check out my After Dinner Encounters thread that I started last night.
ALSO... I'm starting to replace the artwork on the WORLD page with custom pencil sketches by my wife, Malessa. The items with custom artwork are surrounded by a blue border. Check them out!!
See y'all soon!
Cthulu
Last edited:
cthuluftaghn
First Post
Chapter 4: Interlude
28 Coldeven, Mid-afternoon:
Willow was the first of the companions to stir in the upper room at the Inn of the Welcome Wench. She stretched her muscles as she came out of her druid trance and looked around. All of her friends were still sleeping. Judging by the angle of the light coming through the cracks in the shutters, Willow guessed it to be the middle of the afternoon.
She crept silently over to the window and pushed the shutters open, just enough to catch a peek outside. Even her delicate motion was enough to rouse the ever-alert Gann Tolar from his slumber. He grabbed his mace and sat upright, immediately ready to do battle. Seeing nothing to smite, he frowned and relaxed a bit.
Willow looked down at the street below. With all the events of the past couple of weeks, she had forgotten that tomorrow marked the beginning of Growfest. Hommlet was a veritable beehive of activity. Local merchants and traveling vendors were setting up booths along the roadside. Women with flowers in their hair were hanging colorful banners across the storefronts. Children were running and laughing in the streets. The atmosphere was one of joy and excitement, and Willow managed to smile in the afternoon sun. Her smile faded as she looked down and saw the blood stain on the windowsill. Reality came crashing down upon her, and it stung like a slap in the face.
Willow muttered a brief request to Ehlonna to give her strength to face the day, and she turned away from the window. Gann was on his knees, lost in his prayers to St. Cuthbert of the Cudgel. As the young druid sat in silence, out of respect for the cleric and his deity, Tas and Endora groaned and slowly rose from their cots. The paladin noticed that Gann was praying, and she motioned for Tas and Willow to step outside so they could speak freely without disturbing him. "Why can't we talk in here?" Tas asked loudly. "Wouldn't it be safer?"
Gann stopped muttering for a moment, and his features scrunched into an angry grimace. Without opening his eyes, he took a deep breath and went back to his devotions. Davok and Tyris were also disturbed by the halfling's shrill voice, and they began to stir in their beds. "OUCH!" Tas bellowed as Endora grabbed him by the ear and dragged him into the hallway. Willow followed closely, and gently shut the door behind them.
"We slept longer than we should have," Endora lamented. "The danger here is much greater than we had anticipated. A dragon! A cult of crazies! What has our mentor gotten himself into? What has he gotten US into, for that matter?"
"I don't know," Tas grumbled, rubbing his ear. "But I do know that I never signed on to get eaten by frogs, cooked by lightning, and pulled around like a child by pompous paladins!"
The women ignored him. "Maybe you two should head out and try to scrounge up some information, and see if you can swing a deal for some healing potions. I think we'll need them! Here..." Willow reached into her bag of holding and pulled out a large handful of gold. "Here is sixty gold pieces. It's not much, but it's all we've got for now. Maybe that Spugnoir fellow will offer us a line of credit instead of the discount he offered. See what you can do!"
Tas stared at the gold as it moved out of Willow's pouch and into Endora's, never passing through his possession. He scowled and marched downstairs. Endora rolled her eyes, nodded farewell to Willow and followed the rogue. "We'll see you downstairs for dinner!" she called out as she disappeared into the noisy common room.
Willow went back inside to find that Gann, Davok and Tyris were all on their feet and preparing to head out into the streets. Gann stepped forward and said, "Lady, I saw a church this morning that is dedicated to my most righteous patron, St. Cuthbert. I'm sure you noticed it as well. It is the largest temple in town... as it should be. It is my intent to converse with the clerics there and attempt to learn more about this rancid evil that infests the moathouse and forest surrounding this town. Perhaps they could also be of assistance in identifying some of the items that we removed from the stinking corpses of our slain enemies of righteousness."
Willow looked to Tyris and Davok, who shrugged. From her bag of holding she retrieved the amulets, the magical mace, and the strange jade mask that they had found in the moathouse. She handed them to Gann and said, "Take these. Just don't sell anything before you let us know what they are. We all have a stake in this!" Gann promised that he would return before dinner with nothing less than what he departed with, and he took his leave.
"Well," stated Tyris, "I guess that leaves just us. Why don't we stick together and try to find out what the rest of this stuff is worth. We can meet the others back in the common room and discuss our findings over a hot meal this evening." Willow nodded her assent, and the three remaining heroes headed downstairs.
Willow and Tyris headed straight for the door, but Davok detoured towards the bar. "What are you doing?" asked Willow. "I thought we were going to meet back here for supper after exploring the town a bit?"
"Travel snack," replied Davok.
****
Gann Tolar exited the Inn of the Welcome Wench and headed up the road to the north, amongst all of the festivities. As he walked, he noticed that people were stopping to look at him as he passed by. Children would point and cheer, and then launch into imagined swordplay against each other. Women would whisper with each other and smile coyly in his direction. They seemed to be sizing him up. Working men would simply glance his way with an approving nod. Unused to this kind of attention, and uncomfortable with it, Gann quickened his pace and headed straight for the bridge that led to Temple Street
The cleric's mood improved as he rounded the corner, and he saw the towering steeple of the Church of St. Cuthbert looming ahead of him. He smiled and marched right up to the hand-carved mahogany double doors. Gann admired the exquisite craftsmanship of his fellow devotees to the divine god of retribution as he touched the wood. The door on the left was slightly ajar, and he gently pushed it open.
A variety of sensations assailed Gann's senses. The aroma of rare, spiced incense filled his nostrils, and he breathed it in deeply. The light dancing back and forth across the cathedral's ceiling as it shined through the stained glass windows and was reflected by the chandeliers dazzled him. The cavernous, cool marble structure chilled and warmed him all at the same time. Gann Tolar stood speechless, and he basked in the glory of his god for several moments before a woman's voice awoke him from his reverie. She was singing.
Gann couldn't make out the words, but inspired by the melody he crept forward. A regal looking woman in the long white robes of a high cleric moved gracefully back and forth across the altar. She was carefully arranging large bowls of flower blossoms in preparation for the special Growfest services. She seemed lost in some pleasant daydream, and she didn't notice Gann approaching until he was almost upon her. All at once, the singing stopped and the woman stood up straight and tall. She smoothed out her wrinkled robes with swift, hard strokes and a slight blush appeared on her suddenly stern-looking face.
"What do you want," she asked in an angry tone. "This is highly unusual... for someone to just walk in off the street and sneak up behind me. I have clerics beneath me that can handle your affairs for you in the morning. I'm a very busy woman with much to do, and I usually don't see visitors. You may feel free to leave a tithe on your way out, and please shut the door behind yourself."
Gann, not used to being berated, cleared his throat and carefully considered his words. "Madam, I did not mean to intrude. I pay most of my tribute to St. Cuthbert in the form of delivering righteous retribution down upon the heads of unrepentant evildoers. But perhaps if someone might help me identify these items I have recovered in my undying quest for justice, it might help me find one who poses a serious threat to this town, a sorcerous villain by the name of Dunrat. My companions and I would then sell the items, so that I might fill the coffers of this good and noble church. Is there one here who might assist me in these matters?"
The woman glared at Gann severely for a few moments as if trying to decide whether or not to have him thrown out into the street. She looked him up and down, and her expression softened a bit when she noticed the highly polished symbol of St. Cuthbert sewn into his tunic. With an exasperated sigh, she waved her hands as if in resignation and reached out to see what he had. "Yes, yes. Well, stop wasting my time by just standing there and let me see what you've got, for crying out loud."
Gann practically jumped to attention, and he struggled to pull the magical mace from his pack. He handed it to the high cleric, and he tried not to appear too anxious as she carefully studied it. "Hmmmm.... a fine weapon," she announced. "Magic. The Church could put this weapon to good use in our fight against injustice, you know. However, if you do not choose to offer it into our service, I imagine you could fill your own pockets by finding a wealthy merchant to take it off your hands. No doubt he can turn a profit selling it to evildoers. I've neither the time nor the means to determine its exact qualities right here and now. Take it back and do as you will with it."
Gann felt ashamed, in spite of himself. This woman had the unnerving ability to make you feel guilty for merely existing. With a bit less vigor, he pulled the jade mask from his pack and handed it over for inspection.
"What is this, a child's plaything?" The woman felt its weight. "Goodness, an expensive plaything by my wager." She studied the mask for a brief moment and frowned. The woman looked up to peer into Gann's eyes with an inquisitive glare. "Take it away from me. I don't like the look of it." She practically tossed the mask back at Gann, and he fumbled with it for a moment before gaining control. He stuffed it back into his pack, next to he mace. "Is that all," she asked?
"Just one more thing madam. These were retrieved from the bodies of several of our slain enemies at the moathouse. The design of them is peculiar. I thought you might be able to offer an explanation." Gann reached into his pouch and removed the amulets that he had taken from Willow at the inn. He handed them to the woman. Her react was swift an unexpected.
"Where did you get these!?!? Is this some kind of cruel joke?" The cleric's face turned red and her lips quivered in rage. "Did Elmo put you up to this!? You can tell him that his little game has gone too far this time. When will he EVER let the past die?! Canoness Y'dey is NOT one to be trifled with in such a sacrilegious manner. Get out of my sight, infidel... and take your evil trinkets with you."
The Canoness threw the amulets into Gann's face before turning away and storming through an open door to the rear of the altar area. Poor Gann was left in stunned silence. He reached down and gingerly picked up the fallen amulets, and returned them to his pouch. He turned to depart, sulking and feeling wrongfully chastised. "All I did was smite a little evil and loot the corpses. St. Cuthbert is the Lord of Retribution," he muttered to himself. "Once again I find that retribution is a two-headed beast. One head is nice. It smites down evil with heavy, blunt objects ... but the other head has a bitter, sharp tongue. Oh, beware the other head of retribution. It bites!"
Gann gave the enchanted mace a couple of practice swings, trying to get a feel for the weight of the weapon. “Magic, eh,” he mused silently. “Perhaps magical enough to supplant even my own tried and true Truncheon of Truth, I wonder?” Rather than leave defeated, Gann decided to find a lower-tiered priest that might be able to help him discern the exact nature and potency of the enchantment. He thought it best, however, to keep the amulets and the mask out of site, for now. “Perhaps Elmo would be better suited to help solve that mystery!”
As he shuffled towards the door, head hanging low, the scorned cleric heard a chuckle emanating from a passage near the vestibule. "I see you've met the Canoness,” a voice proclaimed. “Seems you made quite an impression! My name is Calmer, and I am her assistant. I rather wish I had seen you come in the door. We could have avoided.... well, whatever it is that just happened! Is there something I can do for you?"
Gann tried to explain the situation briefly to Calmer. However, he soon discovered that the elder priest was a very friendly and talkative fellow. The concept of brevity seemed to elude the man. Throughout Gann’s narration, Calmer asked for no less than every detail. In return, the priest offered his own expository opinion of each and every point. Nearly an hour later, a very frustrated Gann Tolar finally managed to steer the conversation back towards the subject of the magical mace.
Calmer’s eyes lit up with renewed interest. "Hmmm... a magic weapon you say? Well, I just might have something that could help solve this mystery. You seem like a decent enough fellow, and an honest devotee to He of the Cudgel. Just this once, I think I can do you this favor. After your experience with Canoness Y'dey, I don't want you to have an unfavorable impression of our church."
Calmer led Gann around the outside of the church and to his private outer office. After several minutes of rummaging about, he finally produced a thin box from one of the lower drawers of his desk. He opened it to reveal a small stack of scrolls. "Not this one.... no... no.... hmmmmmm.... aha!" The priest triumphantly held up a small piece of vellum parchment, rolled tightly and bound in blue ribbon.
Calmer unraveled the scroll and asked to see the mace. He held the weapon in his hands, and he began to read the words from the scroll, which was lying on the desk. As he pronounced each syllable, the lettering vanished from the paper with a small flash. When the priest was done, the mace lit up with a dim reddish glow as if it had become extremely hot. Calmer, however, showed no sign of being in any kind of pain.
"It's magical, to be sure," he stated plainly. "This weapon will balance itself perfectly for whomever wields it. It will also cut through the air as if in a vacuum, adding potency to every swing for lack of resistance. If it weren't a sin to do so, I'd envy you. Use it well." Calmer handed the mace back to Gann, who nodded in silent thanks. He didn’t want to fire up another lengthy conversation with the jovial fellow.
Gann studied the weapon as he held it in both hands. “Hmmmm. A worthy weapon indeed, but ‘tis no mightier than my own. If it is not broken,” he said to Calmer, “then why fix it?” As much as Gann would have liked to turn the mace over to the church, so that it might be used to do the good work of St. Cuthbert, it was not his decision to make alone. The weapon was the property of his collective group of traveling companions. As such, it would not be just to give it away. It was therefore unthinkable for the cleric to do so.
After thanking Calmer for his time and assistance, Gann left the church. It was approaching the dinner hour, at which time he had promised to meet his companions back at the Inn of the Welcome Wench. In fact, although the streets are still packed with people, he noticed that many of them had stopped working on festival preparation in favor of munching on some mutton, a piece of cheese, or a hunk of bread. Figuring he still had a little bit of time, Gann started asking around for Elmo.
It doesn't take long to find the captain of the militia at all. With the tremendous influx of tourists, street vendors and entertainers pouring into town for the festival, Elmo had stationed himself on the road near the fort to keep an eye on things. Gann marched through the streets, trying to ignore the nods, smiles and waves of the townsfolk as he passed.
Finally, Gann caught site of Elmo, standing by the roadside at the southern edge of town. Seeing the cleric approaching, the captain’s eyes lit up. "Aaaah, my friend! It is good to see you alive and well. I wanted to thank you immediately as soon as I heard about what you and your companions had done, but I chose not to wake you. The rescue of Spugnoir is the talk of the town. No doubt, Redithidoor will compose a horrid ballad to celebrate your heroism."
Gann was actually starting to become annoyed with all of the attention that he was receiving, so he got right to the point. He gave Elmo a quick update and described his encounter at the church, including the stinging comments of Canoness Y’dey. The captain listened intently, and his expression turned sour at the mention of the high cleric’s name. Hearing about the friendly conversation and happy outcome of Gann’s meeting with Calmer seemed to bring the smile back to Elmo’s face.
Upon completing his explanation of the afternoon’s events, Gann pulled the controversial amulets from his pouch and handed them to Elmo. The captain’s smile faded away once again, and he adopted a sad and somber countenance. After several moments of silence, and deep uneven breaths, Elmo spoke...
"By the gods..." he mumbled. "Let me start by apologizing for the unpleasant situation you found yourself in with the Canoness. You didn't deserve her wrath. Though, to be fair, neither do I. She and I don't get along, you see. We adventured together in days gone by. While our quest to vanquish the evil at the temple ended in victory..." Elmo struggled to go on, "On a personal level, things went... poorly. The Canoness and I have not spoken since, and that was more than a decade ago. I choose not to elaborate right now."
Elmo handed the amulets back to Gann, keeping his face averted as if the site of them repulsed him. "As for those," he said in low tones, "it seems our victory was not complete." He paused, and stared blankly at the crowds pouring into Hommlet. An uncomfortable minute passed in silence, and Gann was starting to wonder if he should say something.
Suddenly, with the strength returning to his voice, Elmo began to speak rapidly and with authority. "With the population of our small town nearly doubling over the course of this festival, we must remain vigilant. I will quietly alert the militia that we will be on a status of high alert. We don't want mass panic. You have returned from the moathouse bearing the symbol of the Elder Elemental Eye. It seems that Spugnoir wasn't a fool after all.” Upon the completion of his proclamation, Elmo seemed to weaken visibly. He turned pale, and his stature appeared deflated. He turned away from Gann and headed up the road. More to himself than anyone in particular, Elmo mumbled… “The evil has returned."
Off in the distance, someone lit off a burst of fireworks. Mothers and children laughed. Young lovers danced to the music of a wandering minstrel. Elmo walked off into the lengthening shadows, sobbing.
***
"Sensitive fellow, isn't he?" Gann pondered the situation carefully. "So there is evil in the moathouse. We knew that much. I think it's time I pay another visit to my old friend, evil. I vow that this time, I will smite evil in all of the ways that it is possible to ... um ... yes, SMITE EVIL!"
Gann left Elmo to his dark musings and he headed off to the Inn of the Welcome Wench. If he was lucky, he would have a chance to speak with Maridosen before rallying the Order of the Eagle. In his mind, even a cold bar lass might warm up to a hero before he marched off into the maw of oblivion… before doing battle with some “elder elemental evil”.
The common room was packed elbow to elbow for the holiday dinner rush. Gann didn't see any possibility of getting an open table, unless his friends had arrived before him and had already secured seating. He started to push his way through the crowd, when he was suddenly grabbed by the arm.
"C'mon. Your table's been waiting all afternoon. I'd have given it up to a group of payin' customers hours ago if the old lady would've let me. Can't tell ya how much silver you've cost me in tips keepin' an empty table for you."
Maridosen, the pretty young barmaid with an apparent attitude problem, dragged Gann across the common area to a table in the corner. There was a wide ribbon strung across the benches with a sign hanging from it. It read, "Reserved for Spugnoir's Saviors." Maridosen tore the ribbon down and practically shoved the cleric onto a bench. "What do you want to eat? Hurry, now. It's busy and I'm losing even more money talkin' to you."
Flustered, Gann rapidly sputtered out an order for some mutton and mead. Angry at himself for not being a faster thinker, he started planning what he would say when Maridosen returned. As he sat, various patrons walked by and patted him on the back, saying things like "thank you", or "nice job"... or slurring something congratulatory in the mystery language of happy drunks.
The cleric frowned. “Being appreciated is nice,” he thought, “in a certain way. But smiting evil is its own reward.” Gann’s annoyance was refreshed as something new occurred to him. “This new high profile might make it difficult to catch evil unaware!” He started to sulk, but the sight of Maridosen returning with a hearty meal brought a smile to his face.
"Thank you, girl,” he said with over-inflated confidence. “Justice is a harsh mistress, demanding endless vigilance and devotion. A fine meal like this is just the fuel for the ever-burning furnace of divine retribution within ...” The frown on the bar maid’s face caused Gann to switch gears quickly. “Umm, you're not especially interested in justice and smiting evil and what-not are you? Not that there's anything wrong with that ... if not for comely, innocent lasses like yourself, this world just wouldn't be worth saving from the evil that ever threatens to engulf it."
The muscled warrior-priest attempted a charming smile and a flash of the ol' blue eyes. Unfortunately, it came across as being very awkward and rather silly looking. Gann was unversed in the ways of romance, having dedicated himself completely to the calling of squashing demon-spawn and evildoers. He had paid scarce little attention to the more pleasant aspects of life.
Maridosen glared at him and started to walk away, as if to ignore his comments. Then, she turned back and addressed him curtly. "Listen here, Mr. Divine Retribution. All your fancy words don't change a few simple facts. First of all, every hunk of flesh with a sword that comes through here thinks he can get under my dress. The last guy that actually tried it had to have a finger sewn back on. Only reason I wasn't tossed outta here for that one is, old Vesta felt the brute had it comin' to him. Besides, your type always gets all full of yerselves, and you end up in situations that are far beyond your abilities. I'd recommend moving on, Vigilance Man. You'll only get yourself killed nosing around here." Maridosen turned her head away and tossed her hair back over her shoulder in a gesture of finality, and she stormed off into the kitchen.
Having been shunned for the second time in one day, Gann lamented out loud to the crowed room. "Alas, villainous love goddess," he announced with flair. "You toy with the hearts of men. I simply cannot move on. Destiny has her hand on my back, and she is pushing! I will root out the evil that lurks beneath the surface of this town and smite it, or I shall be uprooted and smited myself."
Several customers turned briefly to stare at Gann as he made his short speech. After a moment of awkward silence, normal conversation resumed and the cleric slouched in his seat, disheartened. Sensing a presence looming over his shoulder, Gann suddenly reached for his Truncheon of Truth. He mentally berated himself for allowing the moment of weakness and turned to face this new threat.
“So,” said Willow with a broad smile on her face. Tyris was standing next to her. “How was your day?”
28 Coldeven, Mid-afternoon:
Willow was the first of the companions to stir in the upper room at the Inn of the Welcome Wench. She stretched her muscles as she came out of her druid trance and looked around. All of her friends were still sleeping. Judging by the angle of the light coming through the cracks in the shutters, Willow guessed it to be the middle of the afternoon.
She crept silently over to the window and pushed the shutters open, just enough to catch a peek outside. Even her delicate motion was enough to rouse the ever-alert Gann Tolar from his slumber. He grabbed his mace and sat upright, immediately ready to do battle. Seeing nothing to smite, he frowned and relaxed a bit.
Willow looked down at the street below. With all the events of the past couple of weeks, she had forgotten that tomorrow marked the beginning of Growfest. Hommlet was a veritable beehive of activity. Local merchants and traveling vendors were setting up booths along the roadside. Women with flowers in their hair were hanging colorful banners across the storefronts. Children were running and laughing in the streets. The atmosphere was one of joy and excitement, and Willow managed to smile in the afternoon sun. Her smile faded as she looked down and saw the blood stain on the windowsill. Reality came crashing down upon her, and it stung like a slap in the face.
Willow muttered a brief request to Ehlonna to give her strength to face the day, and she turned away from the window. Gann was on his knees, lost in his prayers to St. Cuthbert of the Cudgel. As the young druid sat in silence, out of respect for the cleric and his deity, Tas and Endora groaned and slowly rose from their cots. The paladin noticed that Gann was praying, and she motioned for Tas and Willow to step outside so they could speak freely without disturbing him. "Why can't we talk in here?" Tas asked loudly. "Wouldn't it be safer?"
Gann stopped muttering for a moment, and his features scrunched into an angry grimace. Without opening his eyes, he took a deep breath and went back to his devotions. Davok and Tyris were also disturbed by the halfling's shrill voice, and they began to stir in their beds. "OUCH!" Tas bellowed as Endora grabbed him by the ear and dragged him into the hallway. Willow followed closely, and gently shut the door behind them.
"We slept longer than we should have," Endora lamented. "The danger here is much greater than we had anticipated. A dragon! A cult of crazies! What has our mentor gotten himself into? What has he gotten US into, for that matter?"
"I don't know," Tas grumbled, rubbing his ear. "But I do know that I never signed on to get eaten by frogs, cooked by lightning, and pulled around like a child by pompous paladins!"
The women ignored him. "Maybe you two should head out and try to scrounge up some information, and see if you can swing a deal for some healing potions. I think we'll need them! Here..." Willow reached into her bag of holding and pulled out a large handful of gold. "Here is sixty gold pieces. It's not much, but it's all we've got for now. Maybe that Spugnoir fellow will offer us a line of credit instead of the discount he offered. See what you can do!"
Tas stared at the gold as it moved out of Willow's pouch and into Endora's, never passing through his possession. He scowled and marched downstairs. Endora rolled her eyes, nodded farewell to Willow and followed the rogue. "We'll see you downstairs for dinner!" she called out as she disappeared into the noisy common room.
Willow went back inside to find that Gann, Davok and Tyris were all on their feet and preparing to head out into the streets. Gann stepped forward and said, "Lady, I saw a church this morning that is dedicated to my most righteous patron, St. Cuthbert. I'm sure you noticed it as well. It is the largest temple in town... as it should be. It is my intent to converse with the clerics there and attempt to learn more about this rancid evil that infests the moathouse and forest surrounding this town. Perhaps they could also be of assistance in identifying some of the items that we removed from the stinking corpses of our slain enemies of righteousness."
Willow looked to Tyris and Davok, who shrugged. From her bag of holding she retrieved the amulets, the magical mace, and the strange jade mask that they had found in the moathouse. She handed them to Gann and said, "Take these. Just don't sell anything before you let us know what they are. We all have a stake in this!" Gann promised that he would return before dinner with nothing less than what he departed with, and he took his leave.
"Well," stated Tyris, "I guess that leaves just us. Why don't we stick together and try to find out what the rest of this stuff is worth. We can meet the others back in the common room and discuss our findings over a hot meal this evening." Willow nodded her assent, and the three remaining heroes headed downstairs.
Willow and Tyris headed straight for the door, but Davok detoured towards the bar. "What are you doing?" asked Willow. "I thought we were going to meet back here for supper after exploring the town a bit?"
"Travel snack," replied Davok.
****
Gann Tolar exited the Inn of the Welcome Wench and headed up the road to the north, amongst all of the festivities. As he walked, he noticed that people were stopping to look at him as he passed by. Children would point and cheer, and then launch into imagined swordplay against each other. Women would whisper with each other and smile coyly in his direction. They seemed to be sizing him up. Working men would simply glance his way with an approving nod. Unused to this kind of attention, and uncomfortable with it, Gann quickened his pace and headed straight for the bridge that led to Temple Street
The cleric's mood improved as he rounded the corner, and he saw the towering steeple of the Church of St. Cuthbert looming ahead of him. He smiled and marched right up to the hand-carved mahogany double doors. Gann admired the exquisite craftsmanship of his fellow devotees to the divine god of retribution as he touched the wood. The door on the left was slightly ajar, and he gently pushed it open.
A variety of sensations assailed Gann's senses. The aroma of rare, spiced incense filled his nostrils, and he breathed it in deeply. The light dancing back and forth across the cathedral's ceiling as it shined through the stained glass windows and was reflected by the chandeliers dazzled him. The cavernous, cool marble structure chilled and warmed him all at the same time. Gann Tolar stood speechless, and he basked in the glory of his god for several moments before a woman's voice awoke him from his reverie. She was singing.
Gann couldn't make out the words, but inspired by the melody he crept forward. A regal looking woman in the long white robes of a high cleric moved gracefully back and forth across the altar. She was carefully arranging large bowls of flower blossoms in preparation for the special Growfest services. She seemed lost in some pleasant daydream, and she didn't notice Gann approaching until he was almost upon her. All at once, the singing stopped and the woman stood up straight and tall. She smoothed out her wrinkled robes with swift, hard strokes and a slight blush appeared on her suddenly stern-looking face.
"What do you want," she asked in an angry tone. "This is highly unusual... for someone to just walk in off the street and sneak up behind me. I have clerics beneath me that can handle your affairs for you in the morning. I'm a very busy woman with much to do, and I usually don't see visitors. You may feel free to leave a tithe on your way out, and please shut the door behind yourself."
Gann, not used to being berated, cleared his throat and carefully considered his words. "Madam, I did not mean to intrude. I pay most of my tribute to St. Cuthbert in the form of delivering righteous retribution down upon the heads of unrepentant evildoers. But perhaps if someone might help me identify these items I have recovered in my undying quest for justice, it might help me find one who poses a serious threat to this town, a sorcerous villain by the name of Dunrat. My companions and I would then sell the items, so that I might fill the coffers of this good and noble church. Is there one here who might assist me in these matters?"
The woman glared at Gann severely for a few moments as if trying to decide whether or not to have him thrown out into the street. She looked him up and down, and her expression softened a bit when she noticed the highly polished symbol of St. Cuthbert sewn into his tunic. With an exasperated sigh, she waved her hands as if in resignation and reached out to see what he had. "Yes, yes. Well, stop wasting my time by just standing there and let me see what you've got, for crying out loud."
Gann practically jumped to attention, and he struggled to pull the magical mace from his pack. He handed it to the high cleric, and he tried not to appear too anxious as she carefully studied it. "Hmmmm.... a fine weapon," she announced. "Magic. The Church could put this weapon to good use in our fight against injustice, you know. However, if you do not choose to offer it into our service, I imagine you could fill your own pockets by finding a wealthy merchant to take it off your hands. No doubt he can turn a profit selling it to evildoers. I've neither the time nor the means to determine its exact qualities right here and now. Take it back and do as you will with it."
Gann felt ashamed, in spite of himself. This woman had the unnerving ability to make you feel guilty for merely existing. With a bit less vigor, he pulled the jade mask from his pack and handed it over for inspection.
"What is this, a child's plaything?" The woman felt its weight. "Goodness, an expensive plaything by my wager." She studied the mask for a brief moment and frowned. The woman looked up to peer into Gann's eyes with an inquisitive glare. "Take it away from me. I don't like the look of it." She practically tossed the mask back at Gann, and he fumbled with it for a moment before gaining control. He stuffed it back into his pack, next to he mace. "Is that all," she asked?
"Just one more thing madam. These were retrieved from the bodies of several of our slain enemies at the moathouse. The design of them is peculiar. I thought you might be able to offer an explanation." Gann reached into his pouch and removed the amulets that he had taken from Willow at the inn. He handed them to the woman. Her react was swift an unexpected.
"Where did you get these!?!? Is this some kind of cruel joke?" The cleric's face turned red and her lips quivered in rage. "Did Elmo put you up to this!? You can tell him that his little game has gone too far this time. When will he EVER let the past die?! Canoness Y'dey is NOT one to be trifled with in such a sacrilegious manner. Get out of my sight, infidel... and take your evil trinkets with you."
The Canoness threw the amulets into Gann's face before turning away and storming through an open door to the rear of the altar area. Poor Gann was left in stunned silence. He reached down and gingerly picked up the fallen amulets, and returned them to his pouch. He turned to depart, sulking and feeling wrongfully chastised. "All I did was smite a little evil and loot the corpses. St. Cuthbert is the Lord of Retribution," he muttered to himself. "Once again I find that retribution is a two-headed beast. One head is nice. It smites down evil with heavy, blunt objects ... but the other head has a bitter, sharp tongue. Oh, beware the other head of retribution. It bites!"
Gann gave the enchanted mace a couple of practice swings, trying to get a feel for the weight of the weapon. “Magic, eh,” he mused silently. “Perhaps magical enough to supplant even my own tried and true Truncheon of Truth, I wonder?” Rather than leave defeated, Gann decided to find a lower-tiered priest that might be able to help him discern the exact nature and potency of the enchantment. He thought it best, however, to keep the amulets and the mask out of site, for now. “Perhaps Elmo would be better suited to help solve that mystery!”
As he shuffled towards the door, head hanging low, the scorned cleric heard a chuckle emanating from a passage near the vestibule. "I see you've met the Canoness,” a voice proclaimed. “Seems you made quite an impression! My name is Calmer, and I am her assistant. I rather wish I had seen you come in the door. We could have avoided.... well, whatever it is that just happened! Is there something I can do for you?"
Gann tried to explain the situation briefly to Calmer. However, he soon discovered that the elder priest was a very friendly and talkative fellow. The concept of brevity seemed to elude the man. Throughout Gann’s narration, Calmer asked for no less than every detail. In return, the priest offered his own expository opinion of each and every point. Nearly an hour later, a very frustrated Gann Tolar finally managed to steer the conversation back towards the subject of the magical mace.
Calmer’s eyes lit up with renewed interest. "Hmmm... a magic weapon you say? Well, I just might have something that could help solve this mystery. You seem like a decent enough fellow, and an honest devotee to He of the Cudgel. Just this once, I think I can do you this favor. After your experience with Canoness Y'dey, I don't want you to have an unfavorable impression of our church."
Calmer led Gann around the outside of the church and to his private outer office. After several minutes of rummaging about, he finally produced a thin box from one of the lower drawers of his desk. He opened it to reveal a small stack of scrolls. "Not this one.... no... no.... hmmmmmm.... aha!" The priest triumphantly held up a small piece of vellum parchment, rolled tightly and bound in blue ribbon.
Calmer unraveled the scroll and asked to see the mace. He held the weapon in his hands, and he began to read the words from the scroll, which was lying on the desk. As he pronounced each syllable, the lettering vanished from the paper with a small flash. When the priest was done, the mace lit up with a dim reddish glow as if it had become extremely hot. Calmer, however, showed no sign of being in any kind of pain.
"It's magical, to be sure," he stated plainly. "This weapon will balance itself perfectly for whomever wields it. It will also cut through the air as if in a vacuum, adding potency to every swing for lack of resistance. If it weren't a sin to do so, I'd envy you. Use it well." Calmer handed the mace back to Gann, who nodded in silent thanks. He didn’t want to fire up another lengthy conversation with the jovial fellow.
Gann studied the weapon as he held it in both hands. “Hmmmm. A worthy weapon indeed, but ‘tis no mightier than my own. If it is not broken,” he said to Calmer, “then why fix it?” As much as Gann would have liked to turn the mace over to the church, so that it might be used to do the good work of St. Cuthbert, it was not his decision to make alone. The weapon was the property of his collective group of traveling companions. As such, it would not be just to give it away. It was therefore unthinkable for the cleric to do so.
After thanking Calmer for his time and assistance, Gann left the church. It was approaching the dinner hour, at which time he had promised to meet his companions back at the Inn of the Welcome Wench. In fact, although the streets are still packed with people, he noticed that many of them had stopped working on festival preparation in favor of munching on some mutton, a piece of cheese, or a hunk of bread. Figuring he still had a little bit of time, Gann started asking around for Elmo.
It doesn't take long to find the captain of the militia at all. With the tremendous influx of tourists, street vendors and entertainers pouring into town for the festival, Elmo had stationed himself on the road near the fort to keep an eye on things. Gann marched through the streets, trying to ignore the nods, smiles and waves of the townsfolk as he passed.
Finally, Gann caught site of Elmo, standing by the roadside at the southern edge of town. Seeing the cleric approaching, the captain’s eyes lit up. "Aaaah, my friend! It is good to see you alive and well. I wanted to thank you immediately as soon as I heard about what you and your companions had done, but I chose not to wake you. The rescue of Spugnoir is the talk of the town. No doubt, Redithidoor will compose a horrid ballad to celebrate your heroism."
Gann was actually starting to become annoyed with all of the attention that he was receiving, so he got right to the point. He gave Elmo a quick update and described his encounter at the church, including the stinging comments of Canoness Y’dey. The captain listened intently, and his expression turned sour at the mention of the high cleric’s name. Hearing about the friendly conversation and happy outcome of Gann’s meeting with Calmer seemed to bring the smile back to Elmo’s face.
Upon completing his explanation of the afternoon’s events, Gann pulled the controversial amulets from his pouch and handed them to Elmo. The captain’s smile faded away once again, and he adopted a sad and somber countenance. After several moments of silence, and deep uneven breaths, Elmo spoke...
"By the gods..." he mumbled. "Let me start by apologizing for the unpleasant situation you found yourself in with the Canoness. You didn't deserve her wrath. Though, to be fair, neither do I. She and I don't get along, you see. We adventured together in days gone by. While our quest to vanquish the evil at the temple ended in victory..." Elmo struggled to go on, "On a personal level, things went... poorly. The Canoness and I have not spoken since, and that was more than a decade ago. I choose not to elaborate right now."
Elmo handed the amulets back to Gann, keeping his face averted as if the site of them repulsed him. "As for those," he said in low tones, "it seems our victory was not complete." He paused, and stared blankly at the crowds pouring into Hommlet. An uncomfortable minute passed in silence, and Gann was starting to wonder if he should say something.
Suddenly, with the strength returning to his voice, Elmo began to speak rapidly and with authority. "With the population of our small town nearly doubling over the course of this festival, we must remain vigilant. I will quietly alert the militia that we will be on a status of high alert. We don't want mass panic. You have returned from the moathouse bearing the symbol of the Elder Elemental Eye. It seems that Spugnoir wasn't a fool after all.” Upon the completion of his proclamation, Elmo seemed to weaken visibly. He turned pale, and his stature appeared deflated. He turned away from Gann and headed up the road. More to himself than anyone in particular, Elmo mumbled… “The evil has returned."
Off in the distance, someone lit off a burst of fireworks. Mothers and children laughed. Young lovers danced to the music of a wandering minstrel. Elmo walked off into the lengthening shadows, sobbing.
***
"Sensitive fellow, isn't he?" Gann pondered the situation carefully. "So there is evil in the moathouse. We knew that much. I think it's time I pay another visit to my old friend, evil. I vow that this time, I will smite evil in all of the ways that it is possible to ... um ... yes, SMITE EVIL!"
Gann left Elmo to his dark musings and he headed off to the Inn of the Welcome Wench. If he was lucky, he would have a chance to speak with Maridosen before rallying the Order of the Eagle. In his mind, even a cold bar lass might warm up to a hero before he marched off into the maw of oblivion… before doing battle with some “elder elemental evil”.
The common room was packed elbow to elbow for the holiday dinner rush. Gann didn't see any possibility of getting an open table, unless his friends had arrived before him and had already secured seating. He started to push his way through the crowd, when he was suddenly grabbed by the arm.
"C'mon. Your table's been waiting all afternoon. I'd have given it up to a group of payin' customers hours ago if the old lady would've let me. Can't tell ya how much silver you've cost me in tips keepin' an empty table for you."
Maridosen, the pretty young barmaid with an apparent attitude problem, dragged Gann across the common area to a table in the corner. There was a wide ribbon strung across the benches with a sign hanging from it. It read, "Reserved for Spugnoir's Saviors." Maridosen tore the ribbon down and practically shoved the cleric onto a bench. "What do you want to eat? Hurry, now. It's busy and I'm losing even more money talkin' to you."
Flustered, Gann rapidly sputtered out an order for some mutton and mead. Angry at himself for not being a faster thinker, he started planning what he would say when Maridosen returned. As he sat, various patrons walked by and patted him on the back, saying things like "thank you", or "nice job"... or slurring something congratulatory in the mystery language of happy drunks.
The cleric frowned. “Being appreciated is nice,” he thought, “in a certain way. But smiting evil is its own reward.” Gann’s annoyance was refreshed as something new occurred to him. “This new high profile might make it difficult to catch evil unaware!” He started to sulk, but the sight of Maridosen returning with a hearty meal brought a smile to his face.
"Thank you, girl,” he said with over-inflated confidence. “Justice is a harsh mistress, demanding endless vigilance and devotion. A fine meal like this is just the fuel for the ever-burning furnace of divine retribution within ...” The frown on the bar maid’s face caused Gann to switch gears quickly. “Umm, you're not especially interested in justice and smiting evil and what-not are you? Not that there's anything wrong with that ... if not for comely, innocent lasses like yourself, this world just wouldn't be worth saving from the evil that ever threatens to engulf it."
The muscled warrior-priest attempted a charming smile and a flash of the ol' blue eyes. Unfortunately, it came across as being very awkward and rather silly looking. Gann was unversed in the ways of romance, having dedicated himself completely to the calling of squashing demon-spawn and evildoers. He had paid scarce little attention to the more pleasant aspects of life.
Maridosen glared at him and started to walk away, as if to ignore his comments. Then, she turned back and addressed him curtly. "Listen here, Mr. Divine Retribution. All your fancy words don't change a few simple facts. First of all, every hunk of flesh with a sword that comes through here thinks he can get under my dress. The last guy that actually tried it had to have a finger sewn back on. Only reason I wasn't tossed outta here for that one is, old Vesta felt the brute had it comin' to him. Besides, your type always gets all full of yerselves, and you end up in situations that are far beyond your abilities. I'd recommend moving on, Vigilance Man. You'll only get yourself killed nosing around here." Maridosen turned her head away and tossed her hair back over her shoulder in a gesture of finality, and she stormed off into the kitchen.
Having been shunned for the second time in one day, Gann lamented out loud to the crowed room. "Alas, villainous love goddess," he announced with flair. "You toy with the hearts of men. I simply cannot move on. Destiny has her hand on my back, and she is pushing! I will root out the evil that lurks beneath the surface of this town and smite it, or I shall be uprooted and smited myself."
Several customers turned briefly to stare at Gann as he made his short speech. After a moment of awkward silence, normal conversation resumed and the cleric slouched in his seat, disheartened. Sensing a presence looming over his shoulder, Gann suddenly reached for his Truncheon of Truth. He mentally berated himself for allowing the moment of weakness and turned to face this new threat.
“So,” said Willow with a broad smile on her face. Tyris was standing next to her. “How was your day?”
Last edited:
cthuluftaghn
First Post
Similar Threads
