Arabesu
Registered User
I’ve been here a long time.
Lurking.
Watching as an obscure DnD news site grows to be a community. Watching it as forum after forum joins the message boards. I have argued about rules with Caliban and have cursed him for always being right. I have participated in contests: I wrote “Surprise! You’ve Just Been Double Crossed” and “An Imp in Set’s Clothing Gets Help from Scaly Friends” for the encounter contest awhile back. I have seen this community develop from humble beginnings, to have its own awards ceremony at GenCon. Thanks Eric. Who new you’d have such a legacy?
A big thanks goes out to Morrus. I can't imagine how much time and headache goes into maintaining this place.
A few months ago I discovered the Story Hours. Wow. I’ll say it again: Wow. Never have I seen so many talented writers putting it on the line for so little compensation. I am inspired to come out of lurking and participate. Jonrog1’s DarkMatter d20 story hour banter is what finally did it for me, but I must give credit to Wulf Ratbane’s grim and gritty story and PirateCat’s political epic. There are many other great story’s here at ENworld, but these three have had a profound affect. [Begin Mike-Daisy-esque-insecure-slacker-whine] It would be nice to receive such adulation. It would be nice to have such praise and a feeling of membership. But I’ll be content if a few people read this, think its nice, and my players show up more consistently for having been introduced to a more descriptive rendition of the world that I have presented them. [End Mike-Daisy-esque-insecure-slacker-whine] On with the show.
What follows is the rambling and somewhat overly descriptive account of the action that takes place in a DnD 3rd edition game that I’ve been running since April. Initially, the story will be somewhat light on the dialog, as I want to avoid putting words in the characters mouths that were not actually spoken in game. Mistakes will be made in recounting the details but hopefully it’ll be an enjoyable yarn. If nothing else, it should make for a nice recap for my players who have by now an extensive catalog of villains, plots, and locations to recall. I’m beginning with what happened in the first encounter of the first session, then I’ll follow that with the campaign info given to the players when we began, then proceed with the remaining sessions.
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Session 1, (A chance meeting):
Knom Ironhand looked down at the table of trinkets in front of him.
He was angry.
He was probably about to get in a fight.
If he didn’t calm his rage over this minor dispute, who knows what he might do next? He thought back, trying to make sure that he was justified; how had the argument with the merchant over the price of a small ritual anvil located on one of his tables begun in the first place?
The merchant had stated that everything on that particular table was 1 silver coin but when Knom tried to purchase the anvil, the merchant swore that it was from a different table where everything was 1 gold coin. Then he had the nerve to claim that Knom had moved the object over from the other table when the merchant’s back was turned. This had infuriated Knom who had drawn his hammer, since he didn’t take too kindly to being called a cheat and a liar. Seeing that he was about to be pummeled, the quick thinking merchant was trying to weasel out of the insult, and to come out ahead in the transaction, by calling for a third-party arbitration.
It was the law in the city of Forestral that any merchant could call for a third party to judge as a sort of ad hoc ombudsman and to determine if he was treating a client fairly. This usually went in favor of the client rather than the merchant, except with regard to outsiders where the merchant usually won out. A dwarf this far south, and just inside of the border of the Empire of Süt, definitely qualified as an outsider, so the merchant felt he had a good chance of success. He called to a nearby shopper; a halfling who’s back was currently turned to him. Then the merchant realized his mistake, the third party he’d selected was a local cutpurse, Rosencranz from Gildenstern, or “Gilder” for short. This merchant had swindled one of Gilder’s acquaintances earlier in the week when they were fencing some goods. Naturally, Gilder sided with Knom and the merchant was forced to give Knom the lesser price for the small holy symbol.
Flash forward, Gilder had come to Knom’s defense and Knom had hardly finished with the transaction when he noticed that Gilder had gone. It was always the policy of devote followers of Moradin that those who help the cause be thanked appropriately and so Knom set off to find the young halfling and give him his reward. Perhaps he was in need of healing services or some other minor blessing that Moradin could bestow. The marketplace was crowded with shoppers and stalls and Knom’s hope that he would find the little man was fading fast, until he caught the sight of the Halfling ducking down an alley at the last minute. Knom gave chase, but became disoriented by the maze of corridors between buildings. It was nearly sunset and already it was getting too dark for easy trailing. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem for the dwarf, except that the alleys were longer than the range of his vision in this darkness. So he would look down alleys and it was unclear as to whether the alley ended in a dead end, an elbow, or continued on. He also was new to Forestral and certainly didn’t know the alleys as well as the halfling must. So he got very lost.
Meanwhile, Gilder was just setting in for a good night’s work. Normally a forger by specialty, he had also been known to swipe a few coins from members of a crowd or to sneak into unprotected places where wealth might be obtained. Gilder had been told that a particularly posh kip was unoccupied for the evening, and he had decided to have a look. Gilder was also an accomplished cat burglar but despised confrontation; so the prospect of a B&E job without intervention on the part of the owner was too tempting to pass up. He had already mounted his harness just above the second story window, and was just about to finish popping the lock when he felt a tug at his waist. A rather brutal looking Orc was just below him pulling at his belt with a quisarme.
The orc, looking up and squinting, spoke in an unusual variant of Süttese, “Baaaay. C’mon slay’ay’ay’ve. Procknock gotta gitcha ta da udders a’fore de’e’ay all go nerrrrth.” Then Procknock pulled and two of the pins in Gilder’s harness came loose. He was hanging by one strap stretched out between his own harness and Procknock’s pole-arm and quickly spinning away from the lock-picks left in the window. Gilder managed to right himself and with desperation turned the picks. A sudden click and one of the twin panes swung open, just as the harness gave way from the wall. He grabbed the window and clung tight as what remained of the harness slid off. With that, he was free but not yet to safety. However, the Orc had stopped paying attention to the dangling halfling, as a stout bewildered dwarven cleric had just stepped into the alley. The orc let out, “A dwarfffff! Dey bring dwice what a pip like you’ou’ou bring. Snort, neihg’y’y’y.”
Knom, the dwarven cleric of Moradin, charged and Procknock the slaver-wannabe waited, readying his quisarme. The orc swung as the dwarf closed and missed. The dwarf brought his hammer down from above, but Procknock dodged most of it, only taking a light blow on the shoulder.
Gilder looked down at the melee. Procknock had dropped his polearm, had stepped forward and swung twice at the cleric with claws jutting out of the back of his gauntlets. The dwarf had a heavy war-hammer, but the orc had two sets of claws and was probably going to attack twice as often. He could slip inside of the open window, but that would leave the cleric alone with the Orc and it was unclear who would be the victor. Begrudgingly, the little thief dropped down behind the orc, and drew his short sword. It would be a moment before he could strike. One of the Orc’s claws bit deep into Knom’s shoulder, while the other was deflected by his heavy armor. Knom hit him with a glancing blow, but it was clear that the cleric was taking more then he was giving. Procknock was aware that Gilder had dropped down behind him but was unable to watch both combatants at the same moment. When Procknock swung at Knom, Gilder stabbed up with his short-sword. With the Orc’s attention on the cleric, he had left his side exposed and Gilder slid the blade up through his torso. Procknock felt blood burble up into his lungs. That had hurt him badly. Nevertheless, he was still standing and decided to flee.
With a hop, he jumped over Gilder onto some crates and then ran along the edge of the water cistern, up against which Gilder had backed. This astonished Gilder in particular, because even he was unable to run along the 1-inch edge of an open water cistern with such grace and speed. It must have something to do with the goat-hoofed boots that Procknock was wearing. Must have been a big goat; each hoof was as big as Gilder’s head. Procknock felt two swipes miss him as he ran along the cistern, one from the halfling, and another from an unseen source. He didn’t have time to look around him and just ran on.
During the fight, the noise of Procknock’s baying, neighing and exclamations had woken the man sleeping behind the cistern. His name was Eric but he liked to be called “Eric the Dragon.” He had a dragon tattoo just above his left eye that he had thought was fearsome looking when he had gotten it. Eric was smart for a soldier but he just couldn’t resist a drink, even when he knew he’d be worthless in the morning. So the evening before, after having several tankards too many, he decided to lay down behind the cistern and sleep. He’d be able to sleep in and wouldn’t have to travel all the way back and forth across to the other side of the large city of Forestral, which could take a day or more to travel across on foot. He had an appointment for tomorrow night in a nearby neighborhood and didn’t feel particularly motivated to traipse back and forth across Forestral a couple of times every other day. Therefore, his sleeping behind the cistern had sounded like a good idea at the time.
He stood up just to see Procknock running by on the opposite edge of the cistern in front of him. Luckily he’d propped himself up on his sword and so it was readily at hand. He swung his massive two-handed sword and missed, taking a chunk of the cistern with it. He never really liked orcs, and it probably was safer to take this one down and find out what he was up to later rather than to try to parlay. So, when the dwarf yelled to stop him, Eric gave chase. The orc was fast, but he had to jump down from the cistern before he could take real strides. So Eric sprinted past him. When Procknock ran by a moment later, Eric was able to swing his sword at him. It was a last ditch effort because the orc was very fast, but Eric still had some forward momentum. Thus, rather than simply wounding the orc, which had been his intention, he swung clear through his body cleaving him into two pieces.
There just wasn’t much left of Procknock to question after that.
Gilder was already slinking off to the other side of the alley. It is better to leave the scene than to be caught. Knom was trotting up toward Eric but remembered the halfling at the last moment. He called back “Hey little-un. I haven’t had a chance to thank you.” Gilder was about to keep going, but he suddenly remembered: The orc had had gear; darn good stuff too. The boots and the claws were probably quite valuable. If he worked this right, he might be able to end up with the lion’s share of the reward. So he headed back.
Soon, the three of them were looking down over two piles: a pile of the bloody remains of the orc and a pile of “loot-able” and possibly valuable items. The cleric used a blessing from Moradin, which allowed him to see the magical resonances in all things enchanted. The boots were magical but nothing else was.
It was at that moment that Eric realized that Olidamarra had smiled upon him. Tomorrow night he was to have a meeting with Habrin Sneed about a business proposal. One of the conditions for the meeting was that Eric had to find two other adventures for the job. So now, all he had to do was convince these two that the money was right for the job…
Lurking.
Watching as an obscure DnD news site grows to be a community. Watching it as forum after forum joins the message boards. I have argued about rules with Caliban and have cursed him for always being right. I have participated in contests: I wrote “Surprise! You’ve Just Been Double Crossed” and “An Imp in Set’s Clothing Gets Help from Scaly Friends” for the encounter contest awhile back. I have seen this community develop from humble beginnings, to have its own awards ceremony at GenCon. Thanks Eric. Who new you’d have such a legacy?
A big thanks goes out to Morrus. I can't imagine how much time and headache goes into maintaining this place.
A few months ago I discovered the Story Hours. Wow. I’ll say it again: Wow. Never have I seen so many talented writers putting it on the line for so little compensation. I am inspired to come out of lurking and participate. Jonrog1’s DarkMatter d20 story hour banter is what finally did it for me, but I must give credit to Wulf Ratbane’s grim and gritty story and PirateCat’s political epic. There are many other great story’s here at ENworld, but these three have had a profound affect. [Begin Mike-Daisy-esque-insecure-slacker-whine] It would be nice to receive such adulation. It would be nice to have such praise and a feeling of membership. But I’ll be content if a few people read this, think its nice, and my players show up more consistently for having been introduced to a more descriptive rendition of the world that I have presented them. [End Mike-Daisy-esque-insecure-slacker-whine] On with the show.
What follows is the rambling and somewhat overly descriptive account of the action that takes place in a DnD 3rd edition game that I’ve been running since April. Initially, the story will be somewhat light on the dialog, as I want to avoid putting words in the characters mouths that were not actually spoken in game. Mistakes will be made in recounting the details but hopefully it’ll be an enjoyable yarn. If nothing else, it should make for a nice recap for my players who have by now an extensive catalog of villains, plots, and locations to recall. I’m beginning with what happened in the first encounter of the first session, then I’ll follow that with the campaign info given to the players when we began, then proceed with the remaining sessions.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Session 1, (A chance meeting):
Knom Ironhand looked down at the table of trinkets in front of him.
He was angry.
He was probably about to get in a fight.
If he didn’t calm his rage over this minor dispute, who knows what he might do next? He thought back, trying to make sure that he was justified; how had the argument with the merchant over the price of a small ritual anvil located on one of his tables begun in the first place?
The merchant had stated that everything on that particular table was 1 silver coin but when Knom tried to purchase the anvil, the merchant swore that it was from a different table where everything was 1 gold coin. Then he had the nerve to claim that Knom had moved the object over from the other table when the merchant’s back was turned. This had infuriated Knom who had drawn his hammer, since he didn’t take too kindly to being called a cheat and a liar. Seeing that he was about to be pummeled, the quick thinking merchant was trying to weasel out of the insult, and to come out ahead in the transaction, by calling for a third-party arbitration.
It was the law in the city of Forestral that any merchant could call for a third party to judge as a sort of ad hoc ombudsman and to determine if he was treating a client fairly. This usually went in favor of the client rather than the merchant, except with regard to outsiders where the merchant usually won out. A dwarf this far south, and just inside of the border of the Empire of Süt, definitely qualified as an outsider, so the merchant felt he had a good chance of success. He called to a nearby shopper; a halfling who’s back was currently turned to him. Then the merchant realized his mistake, the third party he’d selected was a local cutpurse, Rosencranz from Gildenstern, or “Gilder” for short. This merchant had swindled one of Gilder’s acquaintances earlier in the week when they were fencing some goods. Naturally, Gilder sided with Knom and the merchant was forced to give Knom the lesser price for the small holy symbol.
Flash forward, Gilder had come to Knom’s defense and Knom had hardly finished with the transaction when he noticed that Gilder had gone. It was always the policy of devote followers of Moradin that those who help the cause be thanked appropriately and so Knom set off to find the young halfling and give him his reward. Perhaps he was in need of healing services or some other minor blessing that Moradin could bestow. The marketplace was crowded with shoppers and stalls and Knom’s hope that he would find the little man was fading fast, until he caught the sight of the Halfling ducking down an alley at the last minute. Knom gave chase, but became disoriented by the maze of corridors between buildings. It was nearly sunset and already it was getting too dark for easy trailing. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem for the dwarf, except that the alleys were longer than the range of his vision in this darkness. So he would look down alleys and it was unclear as to whether the alley ended in a dead end, an elbow, or continued on. He also was new to Forestral and certainly didn’t know the alleys as well as the halfling must. So he got very lost.
Meanwhile, Gilder was just setting in for a good night’s work. Normally a forger by specialty, he had also been known to swipe a few coins from members of a crowd or to sneak into unprotected places where wealth might be obtained. Gilder had been told that a particularly posh kip was unoccupied for the evening, and he had decided to have a look. Gilder was also an accomplished cat burglar but despised confrontation; so the prospect of a B&E job without intervention on the part of the owner was too tempting to pass up. He had already mounted his harness just above the second story window, and was just about to finish popping the lock when he felt a tug at his waist. A rather brutal looking Orc was just below him pulling at his belt with a quisarme.
The orc, looking up and squinting, spoke in an unusual variant of Süttese, “Baaaay. C’mon slay’ay’ay’ve. Procknock gotta gitcha ta da udders a’fore de’e’ay all go nerrrrth.” Then Procknock pulled and two of the pins in Gilder’s harness came loose. He was hanging by one strap stretched out between his own harness and Procknock’s pole-arm and quickly spinning away from the lock-picks left in the window. Gilder managed to right himself and with desperation turned the picks. A sudden click and one of the twin panes swung open, just as the harness gave way from the wall. He grabbed the window and clung tight as what remained of the harness slid off. With that, he was free but not yet to safety. However, the Orc had stopped paying attention to the dangling halfling, as a stout bewildered dwarven cleric had just stepped into the alley. The orc let out, “A dwarfffff! Dey bring dwice what a pip like you’ou’ou bring. Snort, neihg’y’y’y.”
Knom, the dwarven cleric of Moradin, charged and Procknock the slaver-wannabe waited, readying his quisarme. The orc swung as the dwarf closed and missed. The dwarf brought his hammer down from above, but Procknock dodged most of it, only taking a light blow on the shoulder.
Gilder looked down at the melee. Procknock had dropped his polearm, had stepped forward and swung twice at the cleric with claws jutting out of the back of his gauntlets. The dwarf had a heavy war-hammer, but the orc had two sets of claws and was probably going to attack twice as often. He could slip inside of the open window, but that would leave the cleric alone with the Orc and it was unclear who would be the victor. Begrudgingly, the little thief dropped down behind the orc, and drew his short sword. It would be a moment before he could strike. One of the Orc’s claws bit deep into Knom’s shoulder, while the other was deflected by his heavy armor. Knom hit him with a glancing blow, but it was clear that the cleric was taking more then he was giving. Procknock was aware that Gilder had dropped down behind him but was unable to watch both combatants at the same moment. When Procknock swung at Knom, Gilder stabbed up with his short-sword. With the Orc’s attention on the cleric, he had left his side exposed and Gilder slid the blade up through his torso. Procknock felt blood burble up into his lungs. That had hurt him badly. Nevertheless, he was still standing and decided to flee.
With a hop, he jumped over Gilder onto some crates and then ran along the edge of the water cistern, up against which Gilder had backed. This astonished Gilder in particular, because even he was unable to run along the 1-inch edge of an open water cistern with such grace and speed. It must have something to do with the goat-hoofed boots that Procknock was wearing. Must have been a big goat; each hoof was as big as Gilder’s head. Procknock felt two swipes miss him as he ran along the cistern, one from the halfling, and another from an unseen source. He didn’t have time to look around him and just ran on.
During the fight, the noise of Procknock’s baying, neighing and exclamations had woken the man sleeping behind the cistern. His name was Eric but he liked to be called “Eric the Dragon.” He had a dragon tattoo just above his left eye that he had thought was fearsome looking when he had gotten it. Eric was smart for a soldier but he just couldn’t resist a drink, even when he knew he’d be worthless in the morning. So the evening before, after having several tankards too many, he decided to lay down behind the cistern and sleep. He’d be able to sleep in and wouldn’t have to travel all the way back and forth across to the other side of the large city of Forestral, which could take a day or more to travel across on foot. He had an appointment for tomorrow night in a nearby neighborhood and didn’t feel particularly motivated to traipse back and forth across Forestral a couple of times every other day. Therefore, his sleeping behind the cistern had sounded like a good idea at the time.
He stood up just to see Procknock running by on the opposite edge of the cistern in front of him. Luckily he’d propped himself up on his sword and so it was readily at hand. He swung his massive two-handed sword and missed, taking a chunk of the cistern with it. He never really liked orcs, and it probably was safer to take this one down and find out what he was up to later rather than to try to parlay. So, when the dwarf yelled to stop him, Eric gave chase. The orc was fast, but he had to jump down from the cistern before he could take real strides. So Eric sprinted past him. When Procknock ran by a moment later, Eric was able to swing his sword at him. It was a last ditch effort because the orc was very fast, but Eric still had some forward momentum. Thus, rather than simply wounding the orc, which had been his intention, he swung clear through his body cleaving him into two pieces.
There just wasn’t much left of Procknock to question after that.
Gilder was already slinking off to the other side of the alley. It is better to leave the scene than to be caught. Knom was trotting up toward Eric but remembered the halfling at the last moment. He called back “Hey little-un. I haven’t had a chance to thank you.” Gilder was about to keep going, but he suddenly remembered: The orc had had gear; darn good stuff too. The boots and the claws were probably quite valuable. If he worked this right, he might be able to end up with the lion’s share of the reward. So he headed back.
Soon, the three of them were looking down over two piles: a pile of the bloody remains of the orc and a pile of “loot-able” and possibly valuable items. The cleric used a blessing from Moradin, which allowed him to see the magical resonances in all things enchanted. The boots were magical but nothing else was.
It was at that moment that Eric realized that Olidamarra had smiled upon him. Tomorrow night he was to have a meeting with Habrin Sneed about a business proposal. One of the conditions for the meeting was that Eric had to find two other adventures for the job. So now, all he had to do was convince these two that the money was right for the job…
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