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Adventures in the Eastern Provinces
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 5045170" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>In Grumbleford, Sepia buys more alchemist’s fire, but the price is daunting. <em>I’m really going to need a steady stream of income if I am going to use this stuff regularly,</em> she thinks glumly, <em>but at least I’ve got a few flasks for now.</em></p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, Shifty makes some discrete inquiries until he manages to find a tailor that is willing to fit the uniforms that they found at the governor’s tower to the party’s members’ measurements. He is clearly nervous about this; it is technically illegal, though tracing it back to him would be difficult if Shifty didn’t talk.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t worry,” Shifty reassures him, “we are the legitimate authority around here. The governor has employed us and we need to look good in his service.”</p><p></p><p>“Whatever you say, as long as the coin is good,” replies the tailor.</p><p></p><p>When the party reunites at their inn, Sepia has another piece of news for them: “I heard that the merchant’s guild is offering a bounty for goblin scalps- two gold pieces each.”</p><p></p><p>“We did tell the goblins in the rift that we’d leave them alone as long as they stopped raiding,” Shar points out. </p><p></p><p>Shifty shrugs. “We’ll just have to see if they’re keeping their side of the deal,” he says cheerfully. “There are still goblin raids going on, after all.”</p><p></p><p>Late the next day, once the fitting and sewing has been finished, the party departs Grumbleford and heads as far as the crossroads before dark. They set up camp there, where they meet a group of traveling halflings called the Slysneak Family Circus. While they entertain and amuse the crowd, Shifty spies at least one of them filching wallets as well. Discretely confronting the halflings with a wink and nod, he walks away with a few extra coins in his pocket as the price for his silence. </p><p></p><p>While the halflings tell tales around the fire, Shar whores herself out to several of the merchants present (as well as to Cavemouth), declaring her body the temple of the Sacred Whore, the Sword Emperor’s wife. </p><p></p><p>The night drags on. Not long before the various folk put their heads down for the night, one of them relates one last tale- apparently, a city on the coast has declared itself independent and established its own demesnes.</p><p></p><p><em>Very interesting,</em> thinks the party’s gnome. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>In the morning, as the party walks off the road north towards the rift opened by the recent earthquake, they discuss this latest piece of news.</p><p></p><p>“I wonder how long it has been,” says Cavemouth, “since they saw <em>their</em> governor?”</p><p></p><p>“This is perfect, though,” Shifty opines. “It seems to me that real authority around here is gone. We <em>are</em> the local authorities, and nobody is there to contradict us.”</p><p></p><p>“What about the Empire?” asks Karl.</p><p></p><p>“When is the last time we saw an official, Imperial representative?” counters the gnome. “I have <em>never</em> seen one. Have you?”</p><p></p><p>His question fills the air like the smell of an over-ripe melon, sweet and ready to burst with possibility. Especially because none of them have ever seen Imperial men either. Until now, they have always put it down to their location- Overland, Grumbleford, all of the small towns in the area, are certainly in a backwater borderland. But now... it seems quite possible that the reason they have never seen Imperial men might be quite different, after all.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The group reaches the rift a little bit before noon, and this time they elect to descend to the topmost ledge, rather than the second one down. This leads them to another goblin warren. </p><p></p><p>The party attacks without warning, striking down goblins with furious abandon. A pair of the humanoids fall back, pelting the heroes with arrows, but soon enough Karl blasts the intervening goblins and the group is able to spring on archers. Sepia’s brass knuckles knock both consciousness and teeth from one of them. </p><p></p><p>A quick, subsequent look around finds a large group of goblin females cowering in a cave in the rear of the area, as well as many goblin young. Another cave in the back holds a number of quivering, frightened kobold slaves. For the moment, the party keeps all of them in sight and covered with weapons, but doesn’t slay them.</p><p></p><p>A few minutes later, the sharpshooter revives groggily, coughing and spitting blood out of his smashed face. He groans as his vision clears, then cringes in fear as the tiefling raises her brass knuckles threateningly again. </p><p></p><p>“We had a deal!” the goblin cries. “You were supposed to leave us alone!”</p><p></p><p>“You’re still raiding the merchant caravans east of here,” Shifty snaps. “We warned you.”</p><p></p><p>“It wasn’t us!”</p><p></p><p>“Then why are they offering two gold for a goblin scalp?” demands Karl. </p><p> </p><p>“There are lots of <em>other</em> goblins in the area,” whines the party’s captive. “Many live in the Black Brambles, and raid from there!”</p><p></p><p>The party draws back to discuss this intelligence, debating whether or not the goblin is lying, as well as what the best course of action might be. Finally, Shifty shakes a finger in the goblin sharpshooter’s face and tells him, “We’re going to investigate further. If what you say is true, we’ll leave you alone. If you’re still raiding, we will return and kill every last one of you.”</p><p></p><p>The sharpshooter gasps in terror.</p><p></p><p>”For now,” the gnome continues, “to ensure your good behavior, we’re going to take your females with us and put them to work. We won’t mistreat them, don’t worry- but if you want them back, you had better not mess with us!”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Back to the Governor’s Tower. The female goblins are frightened, behaving more like cattle than like goblins. </p><p></p><p>“There really isn’t much damage they can do,” Karl points out. “There’s no reason why we can’t leave them here, doing some of the cleanup work that needs to be done.”</p><p></p><p>“Without supervision?” </p><p></p><p>“What are they going to do, pee in the corner? This place is already a wreck.”</p><p></p><p>“Good point,” agrees the rest of the party.</p><p></p><p>“But then, what are we going to do?” wonders Cavemouth.</p><p></p><p>“There is at least one more level in the rift that we haven’t checked out,” replies Shar. “We might as well finish exploring it. But this time, let’s not kill goblins unless they attack us first.”</p><p></p><p>Everyone seems to agree with this is principle, but it will soon become apparent that this agreement is the flimsiest of things. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>On the road headed west, a huge, dangerous-looking bird bigger than a horse, backed with a rich-looking purple howdah and driven by a well-dressed halfling, is given a wide berth by all the other travelers on the road. No trouble with goblin bandits for this one! </p><p></p><p>“Your pardon, sir,” calls the halfling to a nearby merchant.</p><p></p><p>Warily, the merchant looks over the huge terror bird that the tiny figure is mounted on. “Yes?” he calls back.</p><p></p><p>“Can you tell me the name of the biggest city in these parts? Would it still be Thrushton?”</p><p></p><p>“Thrushton’s a ruin, these days,” the merchant replies. “Grumbleford is probably the biggest town around these days.”</p><p></p><p>“Is it the seat of the government?” </p><p></p><p>“No, that’d be the Governor’s Tower. It’s off the road somewhat, from what I understand.”</p><p></p><p>“The Imperial Governor, then... Is he active much? Does he hold court?”</p><p></p><p>Nervously, the merchant answers, “Haven’t heard anything about him doing that sort of thing, no.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah. And which way to Grumbleford? Are there signs?”</p><p></p><p>“There’s an old sign at the crossroads, but it’s south from there, if you don’t have your letters.” He glances at the halfling’s garb. “Though I’m sure you do,” he amends. “No disrespect intended.”</p><p></p><p>“And none taken. Thank you, you have been most helpful.” The halfling tosses a silver piece to the merchant, who- surprised- snatches it from the air.</p><p></p><p><em>Huh,</em> he thinks, <em>looks new.</em> He squints at it: the standard head he doesn’t know on one face, and a hand holding a rose on the other. <em>It is new- it hasn’t even been shaved yet.</em> He glances across at the halfling. <em>Well, none of my business, and I probably don’t need to know anything more about this anyhow.</em></p><p></p><p>The merchant will find out how wrong he is in time.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>On ropes and harnesses, the party descends past the first ledge and down to the third (the second, of course, is on the opposite side of the rift). Cavemouth leads the way in. Squeaking ahead of them announces the presence of many rats. The entryway rapidly opens into a large chamber with many different exits- and rats everywhere. </p><p></p><p>“Filthy vermin,” growls Cavemouth.</p><p></p><p>“You’re one to talk,” quips Sepia. </p><p></p><p>The goliath shoots her an amused glance, then stomps into the room. The others are not far behind him. Rats- some of the size of a large cat- start to move to investigate them.</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know about this,” says Shar. Her voice betrays her unease. “There are a lot of them...”</p><p></p><p>“A few <em>scorching bursts</em> would probably clear them away,” offers Karl.</p><p></p><p>“Ow!” exclaims Cavemouth, as one of the rats nibbles experimentally at him. “All right, let’s get rid of these damned pests!” He cuts one in half with his axe, and Karl follows his attack up with one of the bursts he mentioned, cooking a couple more of the rodents.</p><p></p><p>Unfortunately, this doesn’t really help. Instead of intimidating the other rats, it enrages them.</p><p></p><p>Naked-tailed vermin of all sizes start pouring at the party from everywhere, coming from the side passages, smaller holes in the walls, ceiling ledges- everywhere. Soon our heroes are facing a horde of giant rats, as well as a pair seething swarms of rats. A few of the rats are even larger than cats, reaching up to about 3’ in length (not counting their long tails, of course). </p><p></p><p>The party fights with aplomb, and soon they drive off or slay the onrushing furry mass of rodents. Karl proves adept at dealing with the swarms with his <em>scorching bursts,</em> while Cavemouth and the others keep the individual larger specimens from coming too close- at least, in one piece. Slowly, grimly, our heroes cut and blast their way through the rats, until they are surrounded by a bloody, smoldering carpet. </p><p></p><p>Then they start to explore, mindful of the squeaks of the remaining rats (<em>There must be thousands of them,</em> thinks Cavemouth). The first direction they check out is riddled with areas of unsafe ceiling, just waiting to drop down on them. They manage to “map out” the unsafe areas, and carefully skirt around them. Strange scuttling noises come from all directions. </p><p></p><p>“I hope there is something other than just rats down here,” comments Shifty. “Something with treasure.”</p><p></p><p>“Me too!” agrees Sepia, and agreement murmurs up from the others.</p><p></p><p>The party looks around. Cavemouth notices the glow of lanterns coming from one direction; this is more interesting than a bunch of rats, so the party heads in that direction. The lanterns are set along a ledge above a 20’ drop-off; a canyon ranging from 15’ to 25’ wide separates the ledge that they are on from the other side. A pair of ropes have been stretched across the gap in such a way as to allow a person to walk upon one while holding the second, higher, rope with his hands.</p><p></p><p>“Look!” Sepia says, gesturing. </p><p></p><p>Trying to be sneaky on the other side are a pair of creatures that strongly resemble skunks, excepting their size: they are about 4’ long, with huge tails and white stripes down their otherwise-black backs. </p><p></p><p>“I hate skunks,” Cavemouth declares. </p><p></p><p>Sepia nods. “Me, too. I don’t want to stink.”</p><p></p><p>The party fans out and draws ranged weapons. “I bet we can kill them from here,” says Shifty.</p><p></p><p>Then, even as Cavemouth hurls a javelin into one of the skunk-things, a dagger flips out of the shadows, hitting Sepia in the temple. She squawks, stumbles- and pitches towards the cliff.</p><p></p><p>She catches herself on the edge, managing to barely hang on.</p><p></p><p>From where the dagger came from in the shadows in the canyon below, a goblin in a climbing harness glares at them. A pick hangs at his side.</p><p></p><p>Shar fires an arrow but misses, and then Shifty sinks a shuriken into the wounded skunk’s eye. It squeals and collapses.* The goblin gives a cry of rage... and slips away back into the shadows. </p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> The goblin spelunker!</p><p></p><p>*This is the first time in 4e that I can recall a non-minion being slain before it had a chance to act. Hurray!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 5045170, member: 1210"] In Grumbleford, Sepia buys more alchemist’s fire, but the price is daunting. [i]I’m really going to need a steady stream of income if I am going to use this stuff regularly,[/i] she thinks glumly, [i]but at least I’ve got a few flasks for now.[/i] Meanwhile, Shifty makes some discrete inquiries until he manages to find a tailor that is willing to fit the uniforms that they found at the governor’s tower to the party’s members’ measurements. He is clearly nervous about this; it is technically illegal, though tracing it back to him would be difficult if Shifty didn’t talk. “Don’t worry,” Shifty reassures him, “we are the legitimate authority around here. The governor has employed us and we need to look good in his service.” “Whatever you say, as long as the coin is good,” replies the tailor. When the party reunites at their inn, Sepia has another piece of news for them: “I heard that the merchant’s guild is offering a bounty for goblin scalps- two gold pieces each.” “We did tell the goblins in the rift that we’d leave them alone as long as they stopped raiding,” Shar points out. Shifty shrugs. “We’ll just have to see if they’re keeping their side of the deal,” he says cheerfully. “There are still goblin raids going on, after all.” Late the next day, once the fitting and sewing has been finished, the party departs Grumbleford and heads as far as the crossroads before dark. They set up camp there, where they meet a group of traveling halflings called the Slysneak Family Circus. While they entertain and amuse the crowd, Shifty spies at least one of them filching wallets as well. Discretely confronting the halflings with a wink and nod, he walks away with a few extra coins in his pocket as the price for his silence. While the halflings tell tales around the fire, Shar whores herself out to several of the merchants present (as well as to Cavemouth), declaring her body the temple of the Sacred Whore, the Sword Emperor’s wife. The night drags on. Not long before the various folk put their heads down for the night, one of them relates one last tale- apparently, a city on the coast has declared itself independent and established its own demesnes. [i]Very interesting,[/i] thinks the party’s gnome. *** In the morning, as the party walks off the road north towards the rift opened by the recent earthquake, they discuss this latest piece of news. “I wonder how long it has been,” says Cavemouth, “since they saw [i]their[/i] governor?” “This is perfect, though,” Shifty opines. “It seems to me that real authority around here is gone. We [i]are[/i] the local authorities, and nobody is there to contradict us.” “What about the Empire?” asks Karl. “When is the last time we saw an official, Imperial representative?” counters the gnome. “I have [i]never[/i] seen one. Have you?” His question fills the air like the smell of an over-ripe melon, sweet and ready to burst with possibility. Especially because none of them have ever seen Imperial men either. Until now, they have always put it down to their location- Overland, Grumbleford, all of the small towns in the area, are certainly in a backwater borderland. But now... it seems quite possible that the reason they have never seen Imperial men might be quite different, after all. *** The group reaches the rift a little bit before noon, and this time they elect to descend to the topmost ledge, rather than the second one down. This leads them to another goblin warren. The party attacks without warning, striking down goblins with furious abandon. A pair of the humanoids fall back, pelting the heroes with arrows, but soon enough Karl blasts the intervening goblins and the group is able to spring on archers. Sepia’s brass knuckles knock both consciousness and teeth from one of them. A quick, subsequent look around finds a large group of goblin females cowering in a cave in the rear of the area, as well as many goblin young. Another cave in the back holds a number of quivering, frightened kobold slaves. For the moment, the party keeps all of them in sight and covered with weapons, but doesn’t slay them. A few minutes later, the sharpshooter revives groggily, coughing and spitting blood out of his smashed face. He groans as his vision clears, then cringes in fear as the tiefling raises her brass knuckles threateningly again. “We had a deal!” the goblin cries. “You were supposed to leave us alone!” “You’re still raiding the merchant caravans east of here,” Shifty snaps. “We warned you.” “It wasn’t us!” “Then why are they offering two gold for a goblin scalp?” demands Karl. “There are lots of [i]other[/i] goblins in the area,” whines the party’s captive. “Many live in the Black Brambles, and raid from there!” The party draws back to discuss this intelligence, debating whether or not the goblin is lying, as well as what the best course of action might be. Finally, Shifty shakes a finger in the goblin sharpshooter’s face and tells him, “We’re going to investigate further. If what you say is true, we’ll leave you alone. If you’re still raiding, we will return and kill every last one of you.” The sharpshooter gasps in terror. ”For now,” the gnome continues, “to ensure your good behavior, we’re going to take your females with us and put them to work. We won’t mistreat them, don’t worry- but if you want them back, you had better not mess with us!” *** Back to the Governor’s Tower. The female goblins are frightened, behaving more like cattle than like goblins. “There really isn’t much damage they can do,” Karl points out. “There’s no reason why we can’t leave them here, doing some of the cleanup work that needs to be done.” “Without supervision?” “What are they going to do, pee in the corner? This place is already a wreck.” “Good point,” agrees the rest of the party. “But then, what are we going to do?” wonders Cavemouth. “There is at least one more level in the rift that we haven’t checked out,” replies Shar. “We might as well finish exploring it. But this time, let’s not kill goblins unless they attack us first.” Everyone seems to agree with this is principle, but it will soon become apparent that this agreement is the flimsiest of things. *** On the road headed west, a huge, dangerous-looking bird bigger than a horse, backed with a rich-looking purple howdah and driven by a well-dressed halfling, is given a wide berth by all the other travelers on the road. No trouble with goblin bandits for this one! “Your pardon, sir,” calls the halfling to a nearby merchant. Warily, the merchant looks over the huge terror bird that the tiny figure is mounted on. “Yes?” he calls back. “Can you tell me the name of the biggest city in these parts? Would it still be Thrushton?” “Thrushton’s a ruin, these days,” the merchant replies. “Grumbleford is probably the biggest town around these days.” “Is it the seat of the government?” “No, that’d be the Governor’s Tower. It’s off the road somewhat, from what I understand.” “The Imperial Governor, then... Is he active much? Does he hold court?” Nervously, the merchant answers, “Haven’t heard anything about him doing that sort of thing, no.” “Ah. And which way to Grumbleford? Are there signs?” “There’s an old sign at the crossroads, but it’s south from there, if you don’t have your letters.” He glances at the halfling’s garb. “Though I’m sure you do,” he amends. “No disrespect intended.” “And none taken. Thank you, you have been most helpful.” The halfling tosses a silver piece to the merchant, who- surprised- snatches it from the air. [i]Huh,[/i] he thinks, [i]looks new.[/i] He squints at it: the standard head he doesn’t know on one face, and a hand holding a rose on the other. [i]It is new- it hasn’t even been shaved yet.[/i] He glances across at the halfling. [i]Well, none of my business, and I probably don’t need to know anything more about this anyhow.[/i] The merchant will find out how wrong he is in time. *** On ropes and harnesses, the party descends past the first ledge and down to the third (the second, of course, is on the opposite side of the rift). Cavemouth leads the way in. Squeaking ahead of them announces the presence of many rats. The entryway rapidly opens into a large chamber with many different exits- and rats everywhere. “Filthy vermin,” growls Cavemouth. “You’re one to talk,” quips Sepia. The goliath shoots her an amused glance, then stomps into the room. The others are not far behind him. Rats- some of the size of a large cat- start to move to investigate them. “I don’t know about this,” says Shar. Her voice betrays her unease. “There are a lot of them...” “A few [i]scorching bursts[/i] would probably clear them away,” offers Karl. “Ow!” exclaims Cavemouth, as one of the rats nibbles experimentally at him. “All right, let’s get rid of these damned pests!” He cuts one in half with his axe, and Karl follows his attack up with one of the bursts he mentioned, cooking a couple more of the rodents. Unfortunately, this doesn’t really help. Instead of intimidating the other rats, it enrages them. Naked-tailed vermin of all sizes start pouring at the party from everywhere, coming from the side passages, smaller holes in the walls, ceiling ledges- everywhere. Soon our heroes are facing a horde of giant rats, as well as a pair seething swarms of rats. A few of the rats are even larger than cats, reaching up to about 3’ in length (not counting their long tails, of course). The party fights with aplomb, and soon they drive off or slay the onrushing furry mass of rodents. Karl proves adept at dealing with the swarms with his [i]scorching bursts,[/i] while Cavemouth and the others keep the individual larger specimens from coming too close- at least, in one piece. Slowly, grimly, our heroes cut and blast their way through the rats, until they are surrounded by a bloody, smoldering carpet. Then they start to explore, mindful of the squeaks of the remaining rats ([i]There must be thousands of them,[/i] thinks Cavemouth). The first direction they check out is riddled with areas of unsafe ceiling, just waiting to drop down on them. They manage to “map out” the unsafe areas, and carefully skirt around them. Strange scuttling noises come from all directions. “I hope there is something other than just rats down here,” comments Shifty. “Something with treasure.” “Me too!” agrees Sepia, and agreement murmurs up from the others. The party looks around. Cavemouth notices the glow of lanterns coming from one direction; this is more interesting than a bunch of rats, so the party heads in that direction. The lanterns are set along a ledge above a 20’ drop-off; a canyon ranging from 15’ to 25’ wide separates the ledge that they are on from the other side. A pair of ropes have been stretched across the gap in such a way as to allow a person to walk upon one while holding the second, higher, rope with his hands. “Look!” Sepia says, gesturing. Trying to be sneaky on the other side are a pair of creatures that strongly resemble skunks, excepting their size: they are about 4’ long, with huge tails and white stripes down their otherwise-black backs. “I hate skunks,” Cavemouth declares. Sepia nods. “Me, too. I don’t want to stink.” The party fans out and draws ranged weapons. “I bet we can kill them from here,” says Shifty. Then, even as Cavemouth hurls a javelin into one of the skunk-things, a dagger flips out of the shadows, hitting Sepia in the temple. She squawks, stumbles- and pitches towards the cliff. She catches herself on the edge, managing to barely hang on. From where the dagger came from in the shadows in the canyon below, a goblin in a climbing harness glares at them. A pick hangs at his side. Shar fires an arrow but misses, and then Shifty sinks a shuriken into the wounded skunk’s eye. It squeals and collapses.* The goblin gives a cry of rage... and slips away back into the shadows. [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] The goblin spelunker! *This is the first time in 4e that I can recall a non-minion being slain before it had a chance to act. Hurray! [/QUOTE]
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