Bloodstone Falls


The setting: Forgotten Realms, Western Damara, Present Day

The principal characters:

Durnae Windbright – Human Rogue/Sorcerer from Baytown (Impiltur). A charismatic fast-talker, Durnae got into more trouble than he could get out of in Baytown, and has chosen to re-locate somewhere non-descript. The lure of solitude led him to Damara. He is a competent merchant, rogue, and spy. Durnae used to work for an “employer”, whose identity was kept secret from him, but the aforementioned trouble forced him to abandon all of his contacts, relationships, and working arrangements. He left Baytown in a hurry, and doesn’t know when he’ll be able to return.
He discovered his magical abilities on the way north to Heliogabalus, during a fight with an angry bear. .

Oovie Bunter – Halfling “opportunist” (Bard) from Rawlinswood. If the world were to believe him, Oovie is the greatest Halfling fighter, writer, tale-spinner, gambler, lover, singer, dancer, cook, brewer, rock-skipper, and sneak to have ever lived. To him, anything that has ever been done could have been done better, faster, cheaper, or with more creativity had a Halfling of his stature been involved. Oovie loves to talk more than anything, and he is almost never silent. He even recites epic poems and stories in his sleep. Oovie is in Damara because that is where the action is, and where his legend needs to be spread (preferably, by his own design).

Chapter One
“Take my halfling… please!”

The merchant’s charter had mentioned, specifically, the words SUNDOWN and THE ROASTING TROLL INN. It was now well past sundown. Durnae waited patiently for the merchant’s foreman to arrive, anxious to begin his journey west to Bloodstone Pass and some long overdue anonymity. The events of the past month were tough to forget, and yet he was certain that he had been followed. He had hoped to shake his pursuers as he headed deeper and deeper into the Damaran tundra. But just this morning, he was sure that he saw an all-too-familiar face in what barely passed for a marketplace in the city of Valls. Yes, Speck was a hard man to shake.

By now, Durnae had grown used to the Damaran version of punctuality. He had learned over the past month that Damaran’s thought little of timeliness as a trait. He knew, though, that Damaran’s were notoriously honest people, and that he could expect his new employer’s man sometime during the evening.

Carefully eyeing the somber crowd at the ‘Troll, Durnae found as hidden a table as he could and sat down. He had resigned himself to eating what the locals called “Dareth’s Stew”, a greasy mixture of rock-hard potatoes and strips of rothe jerky, served in a lumpy gravy over a slab of thick bread. He had eaten this particular “delicacy” at least 8 times in the past two weeks, as it was the only thing on the menu (when there was one). The meal tended to taste like his boots, boiled in ogre sweat, seasoned with dirt. The after effects left him up most of the night, swearing he wouldn’t eat Damaran food again. Damaran’s, it seemed, were as bad with their cooking as they were with keeping time.

[Disinterested voice] – How can you eat that swill? It’s made of the worst part of the beast, let me tell you. You must be from out of town, cuz I’ve never seen a local eat that willingly. If I were you, I would have ordered the Yellow Rose Lamb Shanks. Never gone wrong there. See they take the lamb and raise it in their secret mountain monast….

[Durnae] – (disturbed, as there is no one near him) Who? (he looks around…)

[Voice] – Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Gotta take precautions now and then, see, cuz if I were to talk to you out in the open, I’d have two dozen men to ward off. Work isn’t all that plentiful around here, unless you want to crawl around in the mines looking for leftover bits of bloodstone. I’ve never understood the attraction, honestly. I mean the stones are pretty, but it ain’t worth what it used to be… why in my travels to Waterdee….

[D] – (growing suspicious, trying not to be obvious, he scans the room) Show yourself.

[Voice] – Oh all right. Look up to the second floor, the top of the stairs. I’m the unbelievably fantastic looking fellow sitting there smoking his pipe. Name’s Oovie. But try not to be too obvious with your gawking, I know I’m spectacular to look at, but you don’t have to drool in your stew, ok?

Durnae, looking up casually, saw a rather plain looking Halfling sitting near the top of the steps, smoking a pipe. The little man wore plain clothing, unadorned with any scarf or coat to protect him from the chill. The Halfling was looking down, packing his pipe with a new batch of weed. Durnae found himself staring at this little person, though he was by all means unremarkable.

[D] – (Whispering, for no apparent reason and unsure of how he was being heard by Oovie across an empty but still noisy tavern) What is the meaning of this anyway? Are you the foreman I’m supposed to meet?

[O] – Not quite, though I do work for him. He sent me to meet you, give you the details, and then make sure you don’t get too drunk or preoccupied with the women, as you Talls are always doing. You have the charter with you, I see. That thing is a golden key where we are going, my friend. Don’t misplace it and don’t get it stolen. Don’t go waving it around like you have been, or someone will doubtlessly bop you on the head for it. Seen it happen countless times. Anyway, finish your swill and then come to room 4 and we’ll smoke some of this Vaasan Deathroot I got from a friendly gnomish trader just the other day. Said it could take the stink off a troll, and I do believe he’s right. Fantastic stuff, this Deathroot, I must put a note in my journ…

[D] – We? You mean we’ll be going together? The foreman said this was work for just one man. And where is he, the foreman? He’s supposed to have instructions for me and…

[O] – You humans and your questions! Yeesh, it’s enough to drive a Halfling to drink. Which is a great suggestion, by the way. Why don't you bring some mead with you to room number four in a bit. Your treat? Oh, what a wonderful guy...
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Chapter 2:
“Words you don’t understand, are all making sense tonight…”

Durnae grudgingly purchased a small keg of mead and grabbed two flagons before heading upstairs. He knew he would probably regret meeting this annoyingly pretentious Halfling, but the merchant’s charter wasn’t worth anything without a caravan of cargo to make it legitimate. It was strange to Durnae that a country so empty would require all travelers within its borders to carry papers.

After cautiously checking to be sure he wasn’t followed, Durnae opened the door to room Four, just to the left of the stairs. He was met at the door with a fog of acrid smelling smoke. Hearing giggles off to his left, he addressed his host.

[D] – I’m here, as you requested, with the mead.

[O] – A friend to me you will surely be! [giggles], let’s drain that keg and order another!

[D] – (coughing in the smoke)… Is there a window in here? The smoke is burning my insides… (cough)

[O] – You humans, all that weight and not an ounce of stamina. This root is pretty good, but let me tell you if we were at The Foundry in my hometown, you’d be so out of your wits you’d think you were an elf! They say the tobacco there is enchanted by a great illusionist, and I don’t doubt it. I once spent an entire week in their taproom, dazed like I’ve never been, so dizzy I forgot to eat the whole week. And then this Halfling maiden with the finest set of…

[D] – Excuse me, but I don’t see how this is going to help me with my charter or getting to Bloodstone Village. I really am in quite a hurry.

[O] – Oh bother, friend. We’re going to be traveling together, braving the open road, with a flock of merchants to boot. We’ll have a grand old time, but I make a point of never traveling with strangers, too many possibilities for treachery. No, I like to get acquainted with my co-workers, and I can’t think of a better way than some mead and some weed. Of course, some Bungalow Bread and a slice or two of mutton would be nice, eh. Maybe a little burgundy spiced apple sauce on the side, and some spiceberry pie for dess…

[D] – Do you know anything about the merchants we’ll be traveling with? Or about the cargo? And when are we leaving?

[O] – Listen, friend, we’ll get to Bloodstone Pass when we get there. Everything has been arranged and you needn’t worry about the details. Renda is a reputable man, he’ll make sure we’re well protected and well paid. I already told you, if you got the charter, you’ve got a free ride. So why not relax while you can in the warmth of this fine establishment. There’s ale, and food, and this wonderful weed. Every once in a while, I get this tingle in my spine that feels glorious, you must try it, I’m afraid I insist…

[D] – (resigned to the fact that this will be a long night, and a long trip, he relents). I’m sure I should know better than this, but give me a pipe.

Hours later, after long discussions about the possibilities of distant multi-verses, the exotic taste of mushrooms and spices, and the thrill of magic, Durnae and Oovie dozed off. They awoke the next morning uncomfortable and stiff after spending the night slumped in chairs. Shortly after waking…

[O] – Ooooh, what a night! I can’t remember a thing, but let me tell you, those are the best nights. I tell you, that third keg of mead was almost more than you could handle. Of course, my bottomless stomach could have kept going if you had not passed out so quick…

[D] – Shhhh… I hear something…

[Door latch jiggles, as if being picked]

Durnae, senses alert from years of training on the streets, rolled to the side of the door, alert and ready. Oovie, with a similar sense of urgency, muttered an arcane word and simply disappeared. The door opened slowly without a sound, and a strange green hand grasped the edge of the wooden door.

The hand was large, and it wasn’t human…
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Chapter 3
"Never stand on the wrong side of the door"

The hand was scaly and slightly green. Durnae got a good look at the hand up close as the door swung towards him with a swift, sudden force.

The heavy oak door slammed him up against the wall, pinning him before he could roll to the side. The door handle jammed up under his ribs, robbing him of his breath and the ability to scream. Breathless, he struggled against the pressure being applied on the other side of the door.

A head appeared, briefly, around the corner of the door and Durnae caught a glimpse of two snake-like eyes set slightly above a large triangular shaped flat nose. The eyes were yellow.

The creature, whatever it was, had great strength.
The snake creature reached out its scaly hand and grabbed Durnae’s throat in a tight vice grip. The snake man slowly released its hold on the door, giving it a nudge with a knee to force it closed. Suddenly, the room was quiet.

Durnae struggled against his assailant’s grip, but without much success. His squirming only intensified the discomfort, and he soon resigned himself to the fact that he could not escape this assailant alone.

He heard the slow hiss of a steel blade being released from its scabbard.

As Durnae prepared for the worst, Oovie finally decided to act:

[O] - (Begins incantations and appears suddenly across the room) Let my friend be! (finishes his incantations, and a thin blue line struck the snake-man between the shoulder blades). Now, Durnae! Run for it!

Durnae felt the snake thing stiffen suddenly, and took the chance to deliver a swift kick to the creature’s midsection. His foot struck solid metal, as if the creature was armored. The snake man’s grip lessened slightly and Durnae rolled quickly from his grasp and to the side, drawing his sword in a swift, fluid motion.

He began to advance on his assailant, but was surprised to find the creature standing in place, frozen. Durnae glanced at Oovie quickly, but the Halfling was already half out the door.
[O] – Run, idiot! He won’t be still for long and we better not be here when my spell wears off. Grab your pack and lets run for it!

[D] – (Quickly assessing the situation) It’s me he’s after, so lets split up… I’ll find you soon, don’t leave without me!

Despite Oovie’s protestations, Durnae opened the foggy window and jumped out onto the snow covered roof. After getting his footing he ran across the roof’s spine to the edge of the building, where he jumped down into a pile of hay. He had no idea how long the mysterious snake eyed man would be held in place by Oovie’s enchantment, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Hurriedly, he jumped the nearby fence and sprinted cautiously over the frozen ground, taking precaution to avoid startling the spectating rothe that inhabited this pen.

Pausing at the edge of the rothe habitat, frightened and more than a bit angry, Durnae got his wits about him. He’d have to leave town immediately, with or without Oovie or the merchant caravan. He didn’t have the time to wait for Renda’s arrangements, he needed to get away fast.

And that required a horse, something that, thankfully, Valls had in great supply. Thinking quickly if he had seen any unprotected horse yards in the past two days, he prepared to make a run for it. But first, he had to make sure his path was clear.

Peeking up from his hiding place behind a pig trough, he caught sight of the window he had just climbed through. The snake man’s shadow crossed the window several times, and he saw a second, heavily cloaked figure in the room, gesticulating wildly and tossing furniture around. The snake man appeared briefly, before pointing to the window. The cloaked man walked to the open window and stuck his head outside.

Durnae recognized him immediately. Speck had indeed followed him to Damara, and had almost succeeding in capturing him. Only Oovie’s magics had saved Durnae from what would surely have been an unpleasant trip back to Baytown.

Speck turned back to face the snake man, and Durnae was off, running for the nearest set of buildings.

Ten minutes later he was on the road north to Bloodstone Pass on a spirited black horse. He had left a few coins in the stall to compensate the owner, albeit poorly, for the fine creature that now carried him swiftly on into unknown lands and an unknown fate.
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Durnae's Ride

Chapter 4
“Durnae's Ride”

Durnae rode his newly acquired horse hard through the rest of that day, pausing only briefly to choke down some barely edible rothe jerky. He wondered if Damarans ate any other meat besides rothe. He longed for a slab of mutton or sea bass seasoned with exotic spices. Instead, it was jerky through the day and a dinner of boiled oats and dried pullroot.

It had been hard, riding north into the great unknown without guidance or company. The path itself was clear enough, but the expansive, wide-open landscape was almost too open. There was no sign of life, no people, dwellings, nor herds of sheep. Endless nothingness. For miles and miles in every direction, Durnae saw little besides flat dirt, stubbly waist high bushes, and an occasional pile of rocks. Were he to encounter wolves or goblins on these plains he would have no place to hide, no place to seek shelter or protection. Durnae felt more and more alone as the protection and civilization of Valls grew more and more distant.

He cursed himself aloud for leaving so hastily without grabbing more supplies. His hard jerky and sack of oats would disappear in less than three days. The road to Bloodstone Pass was a long one, 7 days on the fastest of steeds, 12 or more by wagon. He would eventually be forced to hunt for food, and he hadn’t seen any suitable game in the past day.

And then, of course, there was the cold. Frigid and harsh are words that wouldn’t begin to describe the conditions he had endured during his first day on the Damaran plains. Great gusts of wind so powerful they nearly stalled his powerful horse in full run, bits of ice and dirt borne on the wind pelting him relentlessly, and the steady disheartening presence of dark gray storm clouds looming before him all served to sap his conviction and strength. He traveled barely 5 miles that day as he was forced to stop often to rest his spirited horse.

But he could not stop for long because he knew that Speck wouldn’t be far behind. Speck was sure to be better supplied, of that Durnae was certain, and would probably bring companions to help him in his search. Durnae was justifiably afraid of the man, as Speck had the reputation of being a relentless tracker who always found his target.

So when, midday through the second day of his trek, a figure appeared off the empty horizon behind him, mounted and gaining fast, Durnae spurred his horse on faster. Whoever his pursuer turned out to be, Durnae was surely not going to sit and wait for it to catch him.

He pushed his horse as much as he could, trying to expand the distance between him and the lone rider following him. After an hour of hard riding, but with his unknown follower gaining rapidly, he spied a small shack at the side of the road, maybe a mile ahead. Smoke rolled out of a chimney and a single animal was tethered to the side of the building.
Durnae figured that this hut was his only chance of protection. Whoever was in that shack was bound to be friendlier than Speck. He slowed his horse as he approached the building and eyed the beast tied up outside. It looked like no other animal Durnae had yet seen. It stood 6’ at the shoulder and was covered with long strips of matted brown hair that ended in ball-like clumps. The creature had a horned head, similar to a goat, and long sturdy legs. It grimaced at Durnae as he approached, and looked for all the world like an unsavory, ill-tempered beast.

And it stank. From hundreds of feet away Durnae caught wind of an impossibly pungent odor so strong he could barely breathe. He could taste the stench as if he had licked the beast. It smelled like a mixture of horse dung, burnt hair and stale year old sweat. He was coughing and nearly retching by the time he had circled the small building and had tied his horse to a pole on the opposite side of the shack.

The door was locked, but not very sturdy. He pounded once and glanced to his right.
The distant rider was no longer distant. He had a minute, maybe two at the most, before Speck would be upon him. Gathering his cloak about him, Durnae prepared to slam into the door. Just then it swung open to reveal a jovial dwarf with a foaming flagon in his hand.

“Weeeehll met trahveler… C’mon in for a…” the dwarf said politely as Durnae burst past him and slammed the door shut. Durnae caught a glimpse of a roaring fire and a sizable feast laid out upon a rickety table before he took up a defensive position to the right of the door, sword drawn…

The thundering of hooves on frozen ground came to a sudden stop. Durnae could hear the mount breathing heavily in the frosty air. Sensing danger, Durnae’s Dwarven companion set down his mug and fingered his axe.

A pair of feet hit the ground just outside the door as Durnae prepared for a fight…
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First Post
I'm really enjoying this.

You've got a least one loyal reader here byxbee. I'm finding this quite enjoyable.

A couple questions,

  • Why didn't you take out the lizard guy (Speck?) while the Hold Person was in effect?
  • How much role-playing was actually involved with the talkitive halfling's player (i.e. did he really say a lot or did he just say that he was talking incesantly)?
  • Have you said why Speck was chasing you? If so, I must have missed it.

Keep it coming, byxbee,


hey lela

Hi Lela! Thanks for reading!

Your Questions:

1) I was the DM for this campaign (Durnae was played by one fellow, Oovie by another. The dwarf is Durnae's player's second PC), so the reason that they didn't take out the Yuan-ti guy (who is unnamed at this point) was because they didn't think of it, I guess. They were really really scared of it, and didn't think they could handle it, especially when i emphasized that it was a snake man, not a lizard man.

2) The talkative halfling was just that, a talkative short fellow. He was one of those players who always goes off on tangents for every situation that happens in the game. He was a perfect fit for Ooovie. He wasn't around for these two or three sessions, so i had him disappear. He'll be back shortly...

3) The player's background said he was on the run from a group of people. He left the rest open for me to fill in. I LOVE IT when they do that! Speck is a human tracker guy, and his name is a nickname of sorts, as you'll learn later on...

I'm trying to do something different, write this more like fiction. It's good practice, and hopefully a new take on the ol' story hour!
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First Post
Re: hey Lela

byxbee said:
Hi Lela! Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reading!!! I'm trying to do something different, write this more like fiction. It's good practice, and hopefully a new take on the ol' story hour!

I love it when it is written as fiction. My all-time favorite Story Hour is wrtten this way--it really is amazing to watch a true, novel-like, story unfold. It's different than just seeing what goes on in a session, it really comes to life for you.

Can't wait for more,
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Chapter 5

"A Dinner with Mirny"

A pair of feet hit the ground... and all went silent. Even the wind sputtered and grew quiet.

Durnae's dwarven companion strapped on his shield, the only noise to pierce the silence of anticipation. "What did you bring to dinner, boy?" He whispered gruffly "I wasn't expecting anybody."

"Neither was I" Durnae replied. "I don't even know who it is, but he's sure to be unfriendly. I'm sorry to have brought this upon you, traveler."

Durnae took the few moments he had left to attempt to complete a pair of incantations. Where he had developed arcane talent, he was unsure. It had manifested itself suddenly a few weeks before, during a fight with a ferocious, hungry brown bear. The fight had gone poorly, with Durnae forced to his knees, before a great rush of energy flowed up within him.

The sensation was new and frightening, but somehow empowering. Not fully aware of what he was doing, he stuttered a few arcane words and touched the bear as it was charging towards him. A great blast of energy flowed from his hand into the bear's body, dropping it in its tracks and scorching its fur.

Since that day, Durnae had tried to duplicate the incantations, with little success. Try as he might, he was unable to gather the energy within his blood. Frustrated, he had nearly given up, certain for sure that he would never be able to summon that power again.

Until now. In the moments before a thunderous knock rattled the door, Durnae felt a surge of adrenaline. Incantations and gestures suddenly filled his thoughts. He completed two quick spells, one that would protect him from harm, and the other a powerful jolt of eldritch power. This last power he held within his very skin, feeling power tingle throughout his forearms.

BOOM BOOM BOOM. The door rattled and Durnae's horse neighed.

"Here we go, son" said the dwarf, as yet unnamed.

The door was splintered a moment later, shards flying throughout the room as the rotted, flimsy wood disintegrated. In the doorway stood an impressive figure, a man dressed in gleaming chainmail, a polished greatsword in one hand.

The man wore the Silver Griffon of the Damaran High Guard. He shouted in a gruff voice "Drop your weapons! This is the High Guard!"

After a tense moment where all involved surveyed the scene, the dwarf laughed, a deep rumbling from the bottom of his belly.

"Well S**t!," cursed the dwarf politely "it's only the High Guard! Here I thought you'd brought me an ogre or something boy!" The dwarf set down his axe, his face beaming with good humour.

"What can we do for you, sir? Care for some mutton and ale? Tis a cold night indeed for such a long ride!"

Durnae stood silently by the small fire burning in a shallow pit. Unsure of what to make of their visitor, he instead concentrated on containing the wild burning of the magic in his veins.

"Hold the chatter, dwarf. This is not a routine stop, unfortunately, or I'd take you up on your offer" lamented the Guard, glancing at the chunk of mutton resting above the flames.

"I'm afraid I'm here on official business. Sir," he said, turning towards Durnae. "You are hereby placed under arrest, on the charges of horse theft and vandalism"

The dwarf whistled his surprise as the Guardsman moved cautiously but with great authority toward Durnae, sword drawn.
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Chapter 6

“But a Horse is a Horse, of course…”

The dwarf whistled his surprise as the Silver Griffon moved cautiously but with great authority toward Durnae, sword drawn.

“Whoa! Horse theft!! Boy, you sure are in lots o’ trouble. You’re not from around here are ya’?” said the surprised dwarf. "Even the stupidest Damaran knows not to steal a man's horse! Hell, you'd be better off stealing a man's wife!"

The guard approached with great care. “I don’t want any trouble here. Let’s take it nice and easy and nobody gets hurt” he said, adding emphasis with a tiny wave of his sword.

The sword wave worked, and Durnae made his decision. This man could kill him easily. Durnae gritted his teeth. The energy in his arms needed release. Already little bolts of blue fire were dancing between his fingers. “Sir Griffon, I must warn you to take a quick step back and give me but a moment and I will go with you peacefully,” he said, holding up his hands for the guard to see.

The Griffon had fought spell casters before, and he knew enough of their talents to be wary. The energy dancing on this kid’s arms was reason enough to pause. Seeing the look of desperation in the thief’s eyes, he took a single step back. “Aye. Release your sorcery and disarm yourself.”

Durnae turned to the makeshift hearth, and placed his hands on the ash covered stone. A flash of energy lit up the room, casting strange shadows among the beams above. Durnae felt the surge of magical force pulse through him and into the stone, a quick powerful release. He was sweating from the concentration it had taken to keep the spell in for so long.

“Well S&#t,” said the dwarf, up until this moment an amazed bystander, “I ain’t seen me a sorcerer in years. What an interesting night this turned out to be!"

“Ok son. Let’s get you ready to ride. I’m afraid I’m going to have to bind and gag you. It’s standard procedure for sorcerers.” He tossed some ropes to Durnae. “Tie yourself as best you can. I'll tighten the ropes in a moment. You make one false move and I’ll snap your hands and cut out your tongue, understand? I got no time for that magical s@#t.”

“I understand” said Durnae with as much resignation as his voice could register. He wouldn’t make it back to Valls, that was for sure. Speck was in Valls, as was the law and an angry horse trader. No, his only chance at escape lay in the next hour. He tried to think of a way he could outwit the Griffon while he tied the ropes loosely around his wrists, waiting for an opportunity.

“It sure is a long ride back to Valls” suggested the dwarf helpfully “and cold and windy too. Hell, I wouldn’t be caught out there right now, the wind’s kickin up a storm no doubt.” Sinking his knife into a slab of mutton and potato, the dwarf began to chew noisily. “If it were up to me, I’d stay the night and start fresh in the morning. The boy isn’t going anywhere if you lock up the horses and the brakk.”

“I don’t take advice from civilians, dwarf, especially about my work. We head out tonight, just as soon as my horse gets some rest. You have one last hour of freedom, son, I suggest you spend it wisely,” said the Griffon as he took up position near the door, hand on his hilt. Both Durnae and the dwarf could see, however, the hunger in the guard’s eyes as he eyed the juices dripping from the roast over the fire.

The dwarf continued smoothly, “Suit yourself, but this mutton is mighty tender. And the ale is Chultan Stout. You ever had a mug of Jungle Ale, Sir Griffon? It’s the strongest I’ve come across. And to think it’s made by humans. Normally they know nothing of ales and meads, but somebody down there in those steamy jungles found a way to make a fine, dark ale. My insides squeal in protest every time I chug one down, but it’s a damn fine experience.” The dwarf took a sloshing, noisy gulp.

“How about one for the road, Sir?” The dwarf poured a frosty mug for the guard and set it next to a plate of steaming mutton, freshly sliced from the roast.

The overpowering combination of meat and ale was too much for the Griffon to bear. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a single mug,” he said with guilt in his eyes.

“The two of you stay there and don’t make any sudden moves. It’ll be a long ride for both of you if you try anything.”

“And dwarf, let me see your papers”

“Gladly, there all right here,” said the dwarf, fumbling in his pack. He found some papers and set them down next to the ale. “A Rover’s Charter from Bloodstone Pass, signed by Meldane Forsythe himself. Yup, it’s my job to roam these plains, looking for deposits of Bloodstone. It’s all there in the papers” he said with a nod.

“Well you better be legitimate, or I’ll have to ask you to come to Valls, too” the guard said, as he grabbed his mutton, ale and papers, and retreated to the doorway.

“Mirny, eh? Got a last name, Mirny?” said the guard as he glanced at the papers.

“Naah. Not in my clan’s custom”

“Eh? Strange, every dwarf I ever met had lots of clan names and words tacked on to the end of their title, like Axebreaker and Hammergiant, and stuff like that. But you’re just Mirny, hmm?” the guard said.

A severe gust of wind blasted through the open doorway just then, sending a shower of dust and ice through the small room. It grew suddenly frigid in the shack as the warmth of the fire evaporated. A quiet silence followed the wind as it howled off.

All three of them ate quietly for a while. Durnae was tired from a hard journey, pushing his steed into the fierce wind. The Griffon, he could tell, was fatigued as well. Maybe if he stalled, thought Durnae, the fatigue will be too much to bear? Maybe he could sneak off during the night. It was worth a try…

“Will I get a chance to plead my case, Sir Griffon? I am unfamiliar with the laws of this land, but in Impiltur I would get a chance to tell things the way I see it,” Durnae said, trying to sound innocent, “I’m fleeing for my life from a man in Valls.”

“I don’t care about your stories, boy. I’m just doin my job, see. Captain told me to track down a youngish boy on a black Narfellian colt, and that’s you. Easy to follow, really, the horse’s hooves aren’t even shoed, boy, and they leave a huge track in the sand that way. You’re damn lucky you didn’t break the horses legs, the penalty for that is more sev…”


The dwarf began shouting with no warning, surprising everyone in the room. He tossed his remaining dinner at the guard, leapt on the table, and drew his axe.

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First Post

First of all, well written. I could really see those blue sparks jumping off Durnae's fingers. Really nice imagrey.

Surprise move by the dwarf! That took me off guard by itself. Would those papers be forged? Just out of curriosity.

Looking forward to more byxbee. Don't let me down.


UV23 and Lela, your words are too kind. Muchos Gracias

Chapter 7
“Fly by night, away from here… Change my life, again”

“YOU’RE MAKING A STUPID F$(KIN MISTAKE, DWARF” said Griffon, sword quickly at his side.


Durnae disobeyed without hesitation and dove for cover behind the table, trying desperately to release the ropes that secured his wrists. The ropes seemed tighter than they had been before, and the knot was one he hadn't tied. Could it be that these ropes tied themselves? Maybe that was why the Griffon hadn't checked them to make sure they were tight.

Durnae continued to struggle while keeping one eye on the brawl that was developing in front of him.

The dwarf was chanting a war hymn, a baritone rumble from the back of his throat. But it was like no war chant Durnae had ever heard. It was more of a contented humming, much like the cooks used to do as they prepared the meals back on Fairwater Homestead. It seemed odd for a warrior in extreme peril to be purring like a pleased cat.

The Griffon advanced slowly, shield and sword readied. With a quick snap of his neck he closed the visor on his helmet.

CLANG! Sword and axe collided, sparks and twisted shards of metal flying as the two combatants brought their strength to bear. The dwarf was off the table now, ducking and weaving under the heavy swings of the Griffon. Blows were parried, grunts exchanged, and armor creased. The room was suddenly warm, as if the anger of the fighters was heating the very air.

A well aimed overhand chop by Griffon caught Mirny unprotected, cutting deeply into his shoulder. Blood soaked through his cloak quickly, spreading down the dwarf’s armored chest.

“OK M#*$ER F#@@$R, Now you’re gonna feel it!” shouted Mirny, pain in his voice but a crazed sneer on his face.

As the Griffon took a step back to prepare for the dwarf’s fury, Durnae struck. Hands still tied behind his back, he kicked a wobbly chair into the Griffon’s path, causing him to stumble briefly.
He crawled quickly under the table to avoid any immediate counterstrike.

The Griffon’s stumble was just enough of an opportunity for Mirny to strike, and he landed a minor blow to the warrior’s shoulder with the flat of his axe. In fact, it was hardly more than a tap.

Durnae, trying unsuccessfully to loosen his bonds and with ropes chaffing his wrists, regained his feet on the opposite side of the table.

He stood just in time to see Mirny stepping backwards, grinning. “That should just about do it," he said, grinning at the huge man in front of him. He laid down his axe on the table.

The Griffon, unsure of this new development, took one step forward with sword raised to strike the unprotected dwarf. He opened his mouth to speak and paused. A strange look came into his eyes, a look that slowly blossomed into a grimace of fear.

He stumbled suddenly backwards into the wall, face twisted in agony.

“Huuuunnnnnnn, Huuuuuunnnnn” he gasped with great effort, as if his chest were constricting.

He made one last feeble swing at the dwarf, who sidestepped easily, and then his eyes rolled downward and his eyelids fluttered. He fell to the ground in a mass of jingling chain mail and flopping limbs.

With the Patrolman laying prone, twitching spasmodically but quietly, Mirny had turned his attention to carefully replacing the cork on the small keg of ale that had been disturbed in the fight. “Well don’t just stand there staring, youngster. Let’s get you out of them ropes.”

“But. How. What” Durnae said, unable to find the words to describe what he had just seen.

“I’m going to need you to remain very calm right now, boy. You get too excited, you end up looking like our friend over there, understand?” said the suddenly calm dwarf.

“You both ate the same mutton, all right… and it had a little bit of Mirny’s Special Seasoning on it, if you catch my drift. You just take it very slow for a few hours, and you’ll be just fine.” The dwarf moved behind Durnae and began to slice through the ropes with a sharp knife.

“Damn ropes, seem to resist the blade. Hold still while I try the other knife,” he grumbled, picking up his axe. He could see the concern in Durnae’s eyes.

“Don’t you worry bout a thing, it should pass from your system by morning. Just don’t get all rambunctious, or, well…” he said with a nod in the direction of the fallen Guardsman.

“Oh Gods” said Durnae, obviously shaken “what have you done? You’ve killed a Griffon.”

“Now stop right there, boy. Weren’t you listenin? Don’t get yourself all worked up over this,” said Mirny as he sliced through the ropes, “cuz he ain’t exactly dead. He’s just resting, and likely will be for a few days. When he wakes up and finds his horse gone, he’ll have a long walk to go with his aching head and wheezy lungs.”

The dwarf looked at Durnae’s naïve, childlike face and laughed. It was a cruel, harsh laugh. “Grab your sword, boy, we’ll need it where we’re going.”

Durnae gathered his sword and began to think that he had made a really big mistake coming to Damara.


First Post
Now, that is a nice posion. As long as you remain calm you can easily eat exactly what they eat. Especally, great to use against a barbarian, but it'll work well on anyone. I like it.

What, exactly, would you say the 3E rules would be?


not really sure how that would translate. The campaign this is based off of was played in the days when 2e was new!

Since it doesn't actually take effect until the ingester gets excited, i would say it has an easy DC to detect if you know the taste, so you can go about getting it cured before it kicks in.

If it kicks in, DC 22? Fail unconscious, save for some damage? Secondary save is the same. That way it has two shots at knocking you out.

edited for clarity
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Lela said:
I like it--may even use it against some players. Hmmm, think of the possibilities (insert evil DM laugh).

"Your dinner with Velazia, delegate from Borakka, is wonderfully prepared and full of flavor, though the seasoned potato stew was a bit salty"

You could conceivable poison lots of people with this, and some of them wouldn't be affected for hours!


Being a DM in the Forgotten Realms myself , I am naturally drawn to another story set in Faerun.

Like the beginning...miss the the dwarf. What is he? Dwarven barbarian?

I almost thought that the High guardsman was a PC.

can't wait until next time!


First Post
byxbee said:

"Your dinner with Velazia, delegate from Borakka, is wonderfully prepared and full of flavor, though the seasoned potato stew was a bit salty"

You could conceivable poison lots of people with this, and some of them wouldn't be affected for hours!

Hmmm, me like! "Salty." I'm thinking just about the only one able to remain perfectly calm in a fight would be a Monk (of at least 5th level). Even the Paladin's adrenalin would be going strong, and a Barbarian would be right out of the picture. Fun.

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