Rune
Once A Fool
Session 4
744 YND, 18 Siege-hold, Fireday.
Currently, a frigid, winter day in the Season of Colors
Our tale begins again in a terrible snowstorm, just two days later. One thing that you will have to remember, here, is that there are no patterns for seasonal change; in fact, any “pattern” is little more than an abstract concept in The Dream. It is, therefore, no surprise that two days ago, a pleasant autumn day encompassed the whole of the town of Loona and, today, the town is buried under white powder and ice.
This, in itself, is not such a major problem, but travel is becoming increasingly more difficult as the snow climbs higher in the streets.
The party has congregated in our base of operations, the Public House on the Bay. Guard Captain Wiuxiu is with them, smugly presenting a High Kalamaran translation of the contract signed by three members of the party and to be signed by the remaining two.
Despite ridiculous protestations from Hrunting that he is, in fact, literate, the documents (produced in triplicate) are presented to Las’Parida Heran to sign. Las’Parida wisely takes an infuriatingly long time to read, reread, take notes, and reread the confusing legalese of the contract. The other, far less wise, members of the party become bored, their exasperation manifested in Dakken’s glib comment, “It’s midmorning and I haven’t killed anything yet! Could we hurry?”
Ultimately, Dakken and Hrunting head out into the terrible storm and brave their way to Way of the Berserk. Faerbast also leaves the inn, despite the fact that the snow has already climbed to waist-height for him and does not look to be abating.
The elf stays put, watching. Watching.
Faerbast spots the goblin shoe-smith that he failed to meet the day before. The little fellow is scurrying through...no, on top of the snow. The salty-tongued gnome opts to follow him, as best he can in this unforgiving storm.
Dakken and his blind, senile, battle-happy father are greeted with a cheerful attack as they enter the temple of the Blood Boiler. After some friendly fighting, the old, battle-hardened Brother agrees to accompany the two to the Public House and, later, into battle with the lizardfolk. Furthermore, the Brother will stand as witness to the battle for Dakken and, upon their victorious return, Dakken will Dance the Blades and be inducted into the Way of the Berserk as a full Brother in Blood. The three men gleefully battle the quickly rising snow and return to the inn.
Shortly thereafter, a curious sight astounds the group assembled at the inn; the sea-faring gnome is sliding on top of the snowy streets of the city in a certain collision course with the inn. On his feet are what appear to be...elongated shoes?
As it happens, the old man with the rigid back and the drooping mustaches (the presumed former paladin) is very much alive, if not necessarily well. He has constructed for the gnome an odd pair of extraordinarily looking boots, which, now that he is inside and drying off, curl up at the ends to a ridiculous degree. Somehow, however, they keep the little fellow from sinking into the snow, which is fortunate, as the snow otherwise cover his head, at this point.
Still, the Kalamaran woman reads the contract, while Guard Captain Wiuxiu deftly attempts to rush her into signing the papers.
Finally, Las’Parida hands the forms to the Guard Captain, with a few modifications inked in. “Make these changes and I will sign the contract. I will need to be free to seek out my sister...”
“The contract, I must regretfully inform you, is not negotiable. I am afraid that you really have no choice in the matter, anyway, you see. If you will pay close attention to section…”
--RIP--
Las’Parida tears the three painstakingly translated documents down the middle.
Guard Captain Wiuxiu is in a state of shock for several moments, but finally snaps out of it and with flustered frustration, shouts, “THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES!” before heading out into the snowy streets.
I do not wish to bore you with the particulars, but for the sake comprehensiveness, I include a copy of the contract for you to examine at your leisure:
Not much is known about the lizardfolk, other than the obvious fact that encountering their war parties can be a lethal experience. They do not usually seem to be aggressively territorial; their increased numbers in the local area is certainly ominous.
Encouraged by Las’Parida’s shredding of the legal documentation, Dakken bellows a boisterous battle-cry, quickly taken up by his Brother in Blood ally and his senile father, as they open the door to the inn: “Let the historians and lawyers write the histories with words; we warriors shall write it in BLOOD!”
No sooner does the group step out of the building, than five scaly lizard-people pop up out of the snow and hurl javelins at the party, dropping back down into the concealing snow as quickly as they appeared.
Most of the javelins are widely thrown, or easily dodged, but one of them finds a weak spot in Hrunting’s spiked scale armor and pierces him, sending the old scythe-wielder into a rage.
As soon as they are able to, the lizardfolk begin to retreat as fast as they can slither through the snow. Their progress is not difficult to follow, as they leave highly visible tunnels behind them. The elf lunges at one of the retreating lizard-warriors and her strange, wooden sword slashes a deep gash between its scales.
Faerbast taunts the fleeing lizardfolk with a crossbow bolt, while Las’Parida calls upon a fountain of dark magical power, reaches forth, and lets loose a ray of energy-sapping darkness. Unfortunately, the target of her attack nimbly rolls out of its path. Furthermore, The Dream reacts to the use of arcane magic and the snow surrounding the Kalamaran is instantly spider-webbed with thick, black, powdery lines.
Hrunting and Dakken flank one of the lizards, but neither of them can hit the nimble reptile.
It, alone, stops to attack before continuing its flight. It withdraws from the younger of the two warrior Fhokki and strikes the elder with its axe, tearing even more scales from the frothing blind man’s armor. As it turns to run, however, Hrunting’s scythe swings around and rends scaly flesh from the warrior’s lizard bones. When the savage elf leaps upon it with its jagged-bladed sword, the thing is reduced to little more than a scaly bag of meat.
Las’Parida shouts out, “Take a prisoner!” and Dakken is quick to heed her advice; he securely binds the lizard warrior and then calls upon the healing hand of Falkker, actively suppressing the resulting reality shift. The Fearless One is merciful and the severity of the lizard’s wound is reduced to a non-lethal one.
The party has their prisoner, if only they can keep it. A hail of javelins falls from the cold, dead wind and another wave of lizardfolk attacks.
744 YND, 18 Siege-hold, Fireday.
Currently, a frigid, winter day in the Season of Colors
Our tale begins again in a terrible snowstorm, just two days later. One thing that you will have to remember, here, is that there are no patterns for seasonal change; in fact, any “pattern” is little more than an abstract concept in The Dream. It is, therefore, no surprise that two days ago, a pleasant autumn day encompassed the whole of the town of Loona and, today, the town is buried under white powder and ice.
This, in itself, is not such a major problem, but travel is becoming increasingly more difficult as the snow climbs higher in the streets.
The party has congregated in our base of operations, the Public House on the Bay. Guard Captain Wiuxiu is with them, smugly presenting a High Kalamaran translation of the contract signed by three members of the party and to be signed by the remaining two.
Despite ridiculous protestations from Hrunting that he is, in fact, literate, the documents (produced in triplicate) are presented to Las’Parida Heran to sign. Las’Parida wisely takes an infuriatingly long time to read, reread, take notes, and reread the confusing legalese of the contract. The other, far less wise, members of the party become bored, their exasperation manifested in Dakken’s glib comment, “It’s midmorning and I haven’t killed anything yet! Could we hurry?”
Ultimately, Dakken and Hrunting head out into the terrible storm and brave their way to Way of the Berserk. Faerbast also leaves the inn, despite the fact that the snow has already climbed to waist-height for him and does not look to be abating.
The elf stays put, watching. Watching.
Faerbast spots the goblin shoe-smith that he failed to meet the day before. The little fellow is scurrying through...no, on top of the snow. The salty-tongued gnome opts to follow him, as best he can in this unforgiving storm.
Dakken and his blind, senile, battle-happy father are greeted with a cheerful attack as they enter the temple of the Blood Boiler. After some friendly fighting, the old, battle-hardened Brother agrees to accompany the two to the Public House and, later, into battle with the lizardfolk. Furthermore, the Brother will stand as witness to the battle for Dakken and, upon their victorious return, Dakken will Dance the Blades and be inducted into the Way of the Berserk as a full Brother in Blood. The three men gleefully battle the quickly rising snow and return to the inn.
Shortly thereafter, a curious sight astounds the group assembled at the inn; the sea-faring gnome is sliding on top of the snowy streets of the city in a certain collision course with the inn. On his feet are what appear to be...elongated shoes?
As it happens, the old man with the rigid back and the drooping mustaches (the presumed former paladin) is very much alive, if not necessarily well. He has constructed for the gnome an odd pair of extraordinarily looking boots, which, now that he is inside and drying off, curl up at the ends to a ridiculous degree. Somehow, however, they keep the little fellow from sinking into the snow, which is fortunate, as the snow otherwise cover his head, at this point.
Still, the Kalamaran woman reads the contract, while Guard Captain Wiuxiu deftly attempts to rush her into signing the papers.
Finally, Las’Parida hands the forms to the Guard Captain, with a few modifications inked in. “Make these changes and I will sign the contract. I will need to be free to seek out my sister...”
“The contract, I must regretfully inform you, is not negotiable. I am afraid that you really have no choice in the matter, anyway, you see. If you will pay close attention to section…”
--RIP--
Las’Parida tears the three painstakingly translated documents down the middle.
Guard Captain Wiuxiu is in a state of shock for several moments, but finally snaps out of it and with flustered frustration, shouts, “THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES!” before heading out into the snowy streets.
I do not wish to bore you with the particulars, but for the sake comprehensiveness, I include a copy of the contract for you to examine at your leisure:
As the mercenaries are still bound to the service of Guard Captain Wiuxiu, despite the failure of the Kalamaran woman or the elf to sign the contract, the group concludes that their current mission still must be completed. The weather is terrible, but the warriors of the group are eager to go hunt down some lizardfolk, so the group heads out, having few other leads to follow in fulfillment of their assigned duty. Furthermore, Dakken sketches out a crude drawing of a lizard-person being decimated in battle for the feral elf. The elf grins wickedly in recognition; she seems to have had dealings with the creatures before and to particularly dislike them.
Not much is known about the lizardfolk, other than the obvious fact that encountering their war parties can be a lethal experience. They do not usually seem to be aggressively territorial; their increased numbers in the local area is certainly ominous.
Encouraged by Las’Parida’s shredding of the legal documentation, Dakken bellows a boisterous battle-cry, quickly taken up by his Brother in Blood ally and his senile father, as they open the door to the inn: “Let the historians and lawyers write the histories with words; we warriors shall write it in BLOOD!”
No sooner does the group step out of the building, than five scaly lizard-people pop up out of the snow and hurl javelins at the party, dropping back down into the concealing snow as quickly as they appeared.
Most of the javelins are widely thrown, or easily dodged, but one of them finds a weak spot in Hrunting’s spiked scale armor and pierces him, sending the old scythe-wielder into a rage.
As soon as they are able to, the lizardfolk begin to retreat as fast as they can slither through the snow. Their progress is not difficult to follow, as they leave highly visible tunnels behind them. The elf lunges at one of the retreating lizard-warriors and her strange, wooden sword slashes a deep gash between its scales.
Faerbast taunts the fleeing lizardfolk with a crossbow bolt, while Las’Parida calls upon a fountain of dark magical power, reaches forth, and lets loose a ray of energy-sapping darkness. Unfortunately, the target of her attack nimbly rolls out of its path. Furthermore, The Dream reacts to the use of arcane magic and the snow surrounding the Kalamaran is instantly spider-webbed with thick, black, powdery lines.
Hrunting and Dakken flank one of the lizards, but neither of them can hit the nimble reptile.
It, alone, stops to attack before continuing its flight. It withdraws from the younger of the two warrior Fhokki and strikes the elder with its axe, tearing even more scales from the frothing blind man’s armor. As it turns to run, however, Hrunting’s scythe swings around and rends scaly flesh from the warrior’s lizard bones. When the savage elf leaps upon it with its jagged-bladed sword, the thing is reduced to little more than a scaly bag of meat.
Las’Parida shouts out, “Take a prisoner!” and Dakken is quick to heed her advice; he securely binds the lizard warrior and then calls upon the healing hand of Falkker, actively suppressing the resulting reality shift. The Fearless One is merciful and the severity of the lizard’s wound is reduced to a non-lethal one.
The party has their prisoner, if only they can keep it. A hail of javelins falls from the cold, dead wind and another wave of lizardfolk attacks.
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