(Adventure) The Haunted Halls of Stonepike

[nimisgod]

"Nay, milady" Sir Ishmael shook his head. "Nothing is amiss. I am just puzzled by a conundrum: these cloakers certainly appeared to be creatures of sentience. Though their actions were brutal, these creatures are not Evil that I can detect with my divinity granted senses. I suppose it is something for me to mull over"

"My mentor has always warned me about simplistic assumptions" he gave a self-deprecating smile to the Elfin lass. "But these creatures certainly seemed Evil enough to me. Were Telerin here, I am most sure that he would give this befuddled halfling a lecture on the cycle of life and how natural predation is not evil."

His smile faded, replaced by an expression of sympathy. "Evil or not, these monstrosities preyed upon innocent dwarves. I am glad that they are no more... for the sake of those who have lost kin..."

He looked up to the Elf apologetically. "Forgive my rambling, milady. I shall stand watch for all of thee whilst thine searchings and appraisals are accomplished"

 

[Aranel]

In a moment of understanding and agreement, Aranel smiled. "Where Telerin here he'd be down there with Fang, who would have been unable to enter. Still, I do not doubt he would have started off on a lecture about forests and green things and cats eating mice..." She trailed off in momentary puzzlement. "At least, I think that's what he said... Cat's were just smart enough to hunt mice but that didn't make them evil...or something." She grinned "I have yet to meet a cat with pure intent however so I always assumed his argument was flawed."

With a polite bow from the waist she went back to examining the small cave. Hopefully they would be done soon, the smell up here was making her feel ill.

((search again? ))

 

[Keia]

Thurgan - Init: +2; AC: 18; HP: 29/29; Atk: W-axe +6 (1d10+2), X-bow +5 (1d8+1)

Thurgan made note of the fissure, and told the dwarves about it at his first opportunity. "Some good dwarven construction ought ta fix that hole," Thurgan commented.

Thurgan searched the area, poking and prodding, though not without a large helping of distaste. He gathered what items he found to put with the others his companions had found.

 

[Uriel]

OoC:Sorry for the delay, my Mom's health took a turn for the worse Monday. She'll be ok most likely, but I have been a bit distracted.
This XP award takes everything from after the Owlbear encounter, RP, Cloakers as well as the 6 months that you all have been with this one.We can still Rp as long as you like, or I can allow you to return to the Red Dragon, since a few of you might like to explore other opportunities. I guess I failed a bit in this one, as I wanted to have more of an investigative feel, with tension and perhaps suspense. PbP isn't the best format for that sort of game, as folks aren't facing each other across a table/ the DM isn't able to send 5 into the other room as one explores the Cellar etc... Still, I think it was an interesting little adventure, all-in-all. I am excluding Telerin's part in the adventure, as far as what follows etc...

Onwards with a Wrap-Up...

XP: 2600Each

5 Cloakers@ 1500XP each, 600 for the time playing+500 more each for RPing.
Aranel has a Ring and Rurik isn't questioned about the mail suit, although he will shortly not need it...

IG


No more in the way of hidden treasures make their appearance, and a weary and tired quintet of climbers descend once more down through the Crypt Ceiling.The cleaning up takes a few days, with the dwarves doing as thorough a job at removing traces of the Cloakers nest as they did with any task to which they set their minds. Mortar and good solid stone are used to shore up the fissure leading into the deep place from whence the Cloakers emerged.
The Spirits have come to rest once more, although some speak of the strange Moans of the Cloakers as possibly being what was mistaken for ghosts in the first place...

A week goes by, with every hospitality made available that is wished for, within the limits of the Mansion's resources. At week's end, the Gorim of Stonepike holds an audience, where all of the Dwarves of the Stonepike (save for the few guards upon the Wall) make their appearance. Near 400 of Chennet's Folk stand within the Great Hall, craftsfolk as well as soldier, musician as well as Scholar.

Algram and Urgan Jasperfist approach as the Band of heroes nears the Hall, something hidden under a tarp that they bear upon a litter.
Smiling, Urgan lifts the tarp showing piles of fur cloaks. Lifting one up, he shows it to be a cape made from the fur of the slain Owlbears, a feather trimed edge and a dark blue lining underneath 'This'ns fer Lord Rurik...there's one with a red line fer Lord Sturm, pale green fer Lady Aranel and one with grey fer lord Thurgan. Sir Ishmael we wsn't sure of, so we took a note from his fine hammer there an had our mum use a Violet fabric. I hope they's allright'n'all. She worked somethin mighty fierce on em, 'long with some of her friends. Funny, they all used ta fight Gobbies back inna day, now they take as much fun in sewing as they once did in smashing yellow skulls.

Algram retrieves a parcel from his sack, opening it to show five silver and gold brooches, small opals set in their centers.' Un..un..Uncle Rog...Roggen said these wu...wu...wuz from his unit in the Wars. He wan...wann..wanted you ta h..have somethin ta set them cl..cloaks with.' Happy at getting the sentence out at last, Algrim set about fastening the brooches to the cloak chains.

< Each character recieves an Owlbear Cloaks with Jewleled Brooch (250GP)>

Now bedecked in matching finery, the heroes are summoned forth, to stand before the chair of the Gorim. The old Dwarf had regained some health from the last time they had seen him. His color was a ruddy brown, as if her had beenout in the day,toiling. Indeed had they asked, word would have been shared that the old fellow had taken a new zest in repairing the Wall, personally overseeing the construction, as well as swinging a pick, hammer and carting stone right alongside his folk. Rubbing his chin, the Gorim waves the five forward, leaning down a bit, eager. 'Good people of Stonepike. Before us stand heroes to you all. For weeks were our halls beset by murderous fiends, were our kin slain and consumed by monsters from the Deepearth, all they while we,ourselves befuddled by their strange powers. It is with great Honour that I introduce to you all, my Goode Folke, the saviors of Stonepike. Rurik Axebender, Sturm Gerwycht,Sir Ishmael of the Wooden Sword,Lady Aranel Silimaurë and good Thurgan Hammer. These five shall be entered into the annals of Stonepike as Friends for the entirety of their lives.
Turning from the audience at large and back to the Heroes, Gorim Stonepike smiles again as several dwarves enter, each bearing a small chest set with a stoit lock. Clearing his throat, the Lord continues ' I know that a price of 5,000 Gold was given by our fine Jasperfist brothers there, but that would hardly do for such outstanding folk as yerselfs. So, I regret to inform you that I have taken the liberty of doubling the fee, raising it to 2,000GP a piece, since there are five of you. I hope that such an inconvenience is acceptable. Lastly, I would have you accompany me down into the Treasury after the festivities have died down a bit, so as to discuss further compensation from my Stores. Now, there are flagons of ale and wine, as well as half a forest of game and half a field of vegitables awaiting us in the Dining Hall. If everyone would follow the good Chamberlain, a feast awaits us all.'


OoC:We can RP to your heart's content at the Celebration, but the following will occur at it's end.

Later, walking with the Chamberlain, Grim Stonepike and a dozen guards, you are all escorted down and into the Treasury Vault.

Chests of carefully organized wealth line the walls, as well as many fine weapons and armor. The Chamberlain clears his throat, catching the attention of all, and proceeds to a chest. Carefully retrieving an old iron key from his waistcoat, he opens the lock, lifting the lid of the chest with reverence.
The glint of the torches carried by the Guards gleams brightly as the Chamberlain lifts a small shirt of Mithril, extending it out for all to see.
The Gorim then says 'Friends, for indeed, that you are to Stonepike. I would give each of you the choice from my Stores of a fine suit of mail like this one, or a weapon, enchanted all, from the wall. Choose what you will, and use them to best Evil as you encounter it. All were once used in battle, and they would sing again.'

OoC: Each Character may choose either a +1 Mithril Chain Shirt of a +1 Melee weapon. I have no problem with odd choices (like a Scythe, for instance).

 

[Aranel]

Aranel had bowed her head to the brothers as the cloak and broach were wrapped and then fastened around her shoulders. She'd been amazed at the quality and made a note to personally hunt down their mum and thank her for the effort put into such fine cloaks.
She delighted in the brooches and madethe same note to thank their old man.

Imagine her delight at the Gorim's words as he doubled their reward. The shiver tht ran through her and the grin that split her face into a dazzlingly bright smile from ear to ear. It all sort of faded out into a little warm glow that infused her and made her feel somewhat drunk.

If only it was acceptable to dance and jump around, but that could wai till there was beer. And stupid as it sounded she planned on challenging Rurik and Sturm to a drinking contest. For no other reason than to see if it was possible.
Because she could now.
She silently giggled in her head when it was announced they would become friends of Stonepike. Close enough to her earlier prediction that she wanted to laugh.
The light headed warm fuzzy feeling grew bigger as there was mention of going into the treasury.
In fact she completly forgot about the ring. But given how much these Dwarves, friends, were willing to give her, would the one ring even matter anymore?

By the end of the Gorim's speech she wanted to dance over to him andkiss him. Feeling that might not be appropriate she settled fo a deep respectful bow and launched herself in delight at those standing next to her, giving each one a neck-breaking hug and manic grin of the very slightly deranged.

By the time th feast was there she still hadn't stopped grinning, eating her feel she laughed and told stories and jokes, as many as she could remember. Especially the one about the Dark Elf and the Orc.
Finally she set her tankard down and called out to the others.

"Bet you a gold peice I can drink more than you!" she called to anyone listening. It was a stupid bet, one she'd never win, especially not in the presence of Dwarves, not if the stories were true and she doubted she'd even be able to take more than four tankards of beer.
But the challenge was there.

 

[Aranel]

((Clone Post))

 

[Aranel]

((Clone post))

 

[nimisgod]

ooc: I'm sorry to hear about your mother's ills. I hope that she gets well.

I've attached an XP and GP log on my character sheet. I'm assuming that the 2000GP we received took into account the advance we got from the Brothers Jasperfist.

The days after the investigation's completion were welcomed by the Deep Halfling. T'was a fine thing to finally experience happy days after a mission. This was unlike the days of sorrow following their expulsion of the Ferals from the Monastery of St. Feragon.

Sir Ishmael's happiness was short, however. An explosive series of headaches began to trouble the Halfling only one day after his mission's completion. He felt as if something in his mind was struggling to be let out. He tried as best as he could to hide the pain. Bright lights and loud noises immediately made him wince. Though he was glad to be within the Halls of Stonepike, the sound of the forges caused him much agony.

Since the Halfling was shy to begin with, the dwarves did not find it immediately strange that he kept to his room during the week ere the celebration. Perhaps only his companions had any inkling of what ailed the Halfling for visits to his quarters were short. Sir Ishmael recieved guests for less than an hour's duration before he asked to be excused.

Thankfully, the headaches began to subside the day before the reward ceremony and the feast. Sir Ishmael accepted the coinage, cloak and brooch as gracefully as he could (though with shaking knees). Elation replaced his weeklong agony, Cheer replaced the sorrow for the lost. The greatest treasure, in his mind, was the appreciation of Stonepike and the lives saved by his actions. A tangible symbol of those was the Violet owlbear cloak and its accompanying brooch. The money, while wholeheartedly appreciated, was definately reserved (in part) for charities. If possible, he asked the Lord Stonepike for some of the surplus foodstuffs of the dwarves to give to the orphanages he visited in Orussus.

During the feast, Sir Ishmael ate alongside the stoutest dwarves. He showed off his racial ability to imitate a bag of devouring during feasts. He abstained from strong drink (though he was tempted by Aranel's challenge), preferring light wines and water to ales and lagers.

Between a magick weapon and a new armor, Sir Ishmael chose the armor. The first reason for this was the Halfling preference of defense over offense. Another reason was that mithral mail would provide him with the mobility he needed in battles without Courage. Also, mithral mail could be hidden beneath clothing (assuming it's like Frodo's mail shirt), thus allowing him to maintain a semblance of a mundane appearance (as befiting one of the Wooden Sword) despite his new, luxurious owlbear coat. When he was given the mail shirt, he let his eyes run over the exquisite quality of the mithral links. Deep Halflings were nigh comparable to dwarves in the arts of stone and metal. With only his racial senses to whisper to him so, Sir Ishmael found that the mail shirt beautiful and wonderful. T'was a gracious gift indeed, he told the Lord Stonepike. He gave his thanks as well.

On his way back to the feast, however, Sir Ishmael was waylaid by the a hammerblow of a headache. He stumbled in a daze through the halls of Stonepike, then collapsed in a crumpled heap of halfling and owlbear cloak. He let forth a copious amount of vomit before losing consciousness.

ooc: to be continued as I'm currently in the middle of a move. If anyone wishes to pick up a sleeping halfling, feel free.

 

[Keia]

Thurgan - Init: +2; AC: 18; HP: 29/29; Atk: W-axe +6 (1d10+2), X-bow +5 (1d8+1)

OOC: Uriel, should we train and level up during this time as well if we are able?

Thurgan was mostly embarrassed at the show of attention and gratitude that the dwarves showered on he and his companions. By the end of the first week, Thurgan was almost feeling like he was home . . . though much better than his time at home with his clan. Thurgan was wary during his stay, watching for visitors from his clan (un-named in background), careful not to be recognized. His clan has sold him into apprenticeship with a human blacksmith, and Thurgan had taken the name, Hammer, to reflect this instead of his clan name.

Thurgan as the week extended began drinking and having more fun, including finally competing in Aranel’s challenge. The carousing was all in good fun, and the participants seemed to get more joyful and rowdy as the week wore on and there was no sign of beasties.

Thurgan spent a few days in the company of the Stonepike smiths, showing some of his talents and learning what the smiths were willing to show him.

As to the offer of armor or weapon, Thurgan was torn. Both his armor and his Waraxe was crafted by his hand and he was saddened at the thought of abandoning either one. In the end, the lure of the mithral chain shirt was too much to ignore. To ease his conscious, Thurgan offered his masterwork chain shirt to the Stonepikes either in trade for additional work, or simply in gratitude.

Although Thurgan had a great deal of money currently, his thoughts drifted to having his weapon enchanted while he was here. As such, he looked into the possibility . . . after some time working up the courage to ask.

As for Sir Ishmael’s collapse, Thurgan would carry the lad, careful to keep his expulsions away from both Thurgan himself and Sir Ishmael’s items. On the way, he called for the healers. Thurgan hadn’t noticed anything amiss with the halfling, though he had spent most of his time with Aranel and the dwarven smiths.

 

[Uriel]

OoC:Off to Ozzfest, I'll post a longer IG when I return.
Ishmael and Thurgan choose the Mithril Shirts, which I am fine with being LotResque as far as encumbrance. That is only me, however, other DMs in LEW might want to be more 'by the book', as it were.
Thurgan is welcome to stay as long as he wants and have things enchanted, since there is a Wizard here of sufficient level to create +1 weapons, at least.
It would require the 2K, minus the cost of his own mail shirt, which the dwarves will gratefully put to use in their inevitable War with the land to the East.
Not sure which Aranel wanted, the mail or a weapon... Let's call it 2K in addition to the fronted money for ponies (which I really threw out there to get you folks here).
Rurik and Sturm are still silent, but there's no hurry,really.
Feel free to level up.


Edit: As soon as everyone checks in, I'll roll up a Drinking contest for all involved. I use Fort saves, 3 rounds, DC 10,15 and 20. After that, DC 20 saves until only one person is left...it would be funny if Aranel was the one to win... Hell, we'll say that their is an official contest, with 4 dwarf contestants, saves ranging from +3 to +8 or so. A prize of a silver mug (100GP value) and free beer for a year in the Inn where you first stayed. This is of more use to those living here, but still...