Broken Lands Act II, Orcs on a Mission - Updated 12-Sep-06

[Graywolf-ELM]

Trolls with a Vacuum? – June-ish-2006 held back til next update so that we can bring you the following courtesy of fitz.

On the Life of Grr

I do not remember what my kind call me any longer, but I do remember the day of my passage to manhood. Eight of us stood there waiting for our chief and his advisor to ascend and tell us our task. Slowly the chief's headdress could be seen rising from the valley towards the bonfire, spiritual advisor at his side.

Excellent, I see all the younglings are ready, let the festivities begin. shouts the chieftain.

With that, food and liquor are consumed in mass quantities. As the first stars begin to twinkle in the sky the shaman suddenly turns ice cold for many moments.

It is time! shouts the shaman and he begins to dancing around the fire throwing in herbs of all sorts and chanting very loudly.

Smoke begins to fill the sky such that both the setting suns and rising stars are completely blocked from view. The shaman continues to chant for what feels like an eternity, the reality of what is coming beginning to settle in, soon we would be men.

The old grizzly! shouts out the shaman.

The roar of the crowd is intense, everyone knows what this means, when we return we would be revered within the tribe, the bitches of our choice. The spirits this day had truly blessed us. Quickly we all grabbed our spears and morningstars, packed our bags, and finished up any last details.

That night we set out, our singular purpose driving all of us to our goal; the Grizzly. As we got further from the camp and deeper into the forest, the creatures of the forest began announcing to each other our presence as we crashed through the dense foliage. As the adrenaline of our trials began to creep out of our systems, the need for sleep became more pressing.

Let us make camp in this small clearing; we'll setup guards of 2 in 2 hour shifts, said one whom I do not remember.

The night passed uneventfully, the next morning we continued our search for the old grizzly. It would take several days before we would finally find that old bear, what followed was a slaughter, that old bear fought as if the spirits of the forest fueled her on, One by one we began to drop, but with each one that dropped the wounds in her side became more and more grievous.

The battle raged on until the only two surviving where myself and the old grizzly, exhaustion was settling into every one of my bones and I could barely keep my weapons up to defend myself if she were to attack, but as I looked across the field to my opponent I could see the pain of the wounds she had taken were also beginning to take it’s toll. If I could just muster enough strength for one last charge I would bring her down and be a men of men in my tribe.

Slowly I drew in every ounce of strength I had left, I looked up at my opponent again preparing to charge in and smash its skull. As I gazed at the grizzly bear and watched her preparing to defend herself one last time I raised my morningstar let out a scream and ...

WHAM, out of nowhere she leapt, slamming me to the ground and knocking the last breath of life out of me.

Slowly the darkness left my head, I could feel the cold stone against my fast, but how could this be? I had seen her leap and kill me, but there was no denying the stone either. As I opened first one then another eye I could see the black and white outlines of two bear cubs licking their wounded mother. But something was very different with my surrounding, I could see shadows of creatures and plants and everything else imaginable shifting in and out of my vision and creepier still, they appeared to be talking. What was this, who were all these silhouettes, panic was setting in, fear overwhelming everything I knew.

Greetings hobgoblin, I am Baknir and what you are seeing is the spirit world.

The spirit world, that was a place only shamans dared venture, and I was no shaman.

Why can I see you, why am I alive, where am I? I furiously screamed, trying to make sense of it.


You have been awakened, probably the trauma of your last fight. said Baknir.

Finally I was beginning to get some focus, and I began to realize Baknir was a spirit that seemed tied to the old grizzly.


I will be your guide and mentor as you learn the ways of spirits, but it comes with a cost, the old mother has taken many grievous wounds and her cubs will need tending to and care, you must help them or this forest will have to endure a change in it’s balance as these are the last of their kind here.

So you grace me with this ‘gift’ in exchange for slavery? I challenged.


I offer you no ‘gift’ as you would call it, but without guidance the spirits will devour you and leave you nothing but a shell. If you wish not my help, then I will ask none of you.

With that the spirit turned and went away from me. As I watched, I could see the spirits moving in my direction, but then all of them vanished, all I could feel was my body being assaulted, all of my senses collapsing around me.

Fine! I screamed, I will help in exchange for your help.

Nothing, everything was going black again, I couldn’t even feel my nose.

More time passed, how much I will never know, but when I awoke the sun was barely lighting the cave entrance and the cubs where both curled up against their now dead mother.


Remember this young one, spirits are not forgiving nor do they have the same sense of morals that you and your kind might or might not have. I agree to help you and you agree to help me, let it be well understood.

I understand was my only response.

Many seasons passed, I kept my end of the bargain and in return I was taught how to deal with the duality of existence between my world and Baknir’s. During this time I would gain the attention of a few spirits including the spirit of my grandmother. Through her I would learn some basic healing gifts that would help to keep the cubs and myself healthy against the perils of life.

Another spirit that I would capture the attention of was that of a treant who was cut down in his prime. Knuck as he called himself was very prideful and often hard to negotiate with, but through him I was granted strength beyond any measure. He would often demand in return that I would attack those who would harm the forest, but I never really had a problem with this.

Crackle, the last of my current spirit companions, showed just as the last embers of a campfire set by some foolish humans was burning out. The humans made for an excellent dinner that night, and despite his fiery temper Crackle has made for a constant companion since then.

Eventually the bears grew to full size, and I had completed my obligation to Baknir, but in the time we had been together our relationship had shifted from an agreement to a true friendship. So even after they left to go out and continue the circle of life, Baknir, Crackle, Ma’In’Gor, Knuck and myself continued to work to keep the forest safe from intruders.

One night all of us could sense something very dangerous and powerful had entered the forest. As we set out to investigate, even the spirits seems to be uneasy at what was out there. Before I even knew what happened all was dark again.


Grr! Wake up! screamed Baknir.

The pounding in my head was horrible, and Baknir’s screaming wasn’t helping. I could again feel cold stone pressed against my cheek. As I worked to regain some consciousness I opened my eyes just a crack and could several feet, the bodies attached seemed to be trolls of some sort. Screams of pain could be heard occasionally as well.


The spirits of this place are tainted Baknir whispered,
I sense a powerful and ancient influence is somehow involved.

What would you have me do? I asked somewhat rhetorically as I could also feel the shackles around both my arms and legs.


Wait for now, there is another nearby who commands much attention from the spirits as well, I sense he will be here shortly.

And so for now, we wait.

Trolls with a Vacuum? – June-ish-2006

 

[Graywolf-ELM]

Trolls with a Vacuum? – June-ish-2006

Wingz could hardly believe it; he was having fun with the troll game, Gummy. It is a contest where you see how many swamp maggots you can hold in your mouth without swallowing. Grinning and chewing his tasty losses Wingz considered his fate. The son of a temple priestess, and something else, he was afforded special treatment from the time of his birth. It was often difficult to fit in with the Trolls and guards, the former scared of him, and the latter resistant to his orders. In the next few years, Wingz would fully explore his “other” powers and take a more forceful role in the running of the temple. His reverie is disturbed when 3 arrows come flying in through the main hall archway, injuring a troll, causing it to spit out maggots in a yelp of pain.

Acting quickly, if not instinctively, Wingz calls upon his ability to summon an area of magical darkness, placing it between the attacker and his trolls. Immediately he gives orders to the other trolls.
“You, you, and you, that way, go around behind the hall and attack from that side.”

The trolls hurry in the direction indicated, and Wingz moves on to the next three. The Half-Fiend points to three more trolls, and then up the hallway “You, you, and you, that way, up the hall, attack from there.”

To the last two guards he orders, “You and you, stay with me, we attack from here.”

Moving to the edge of the darkness, Wingz smacks the winner of Gummy, and points into the darkness, “You go through and kill them.” The troll grins through a mouthful of maggots and heads straight through the darkness.

As Wingz suspected, the wet sounds of Axes chopping into troll flesh is heard from beyond in the great hall. The doorway here is too narrow, and a troll would be an easy target for the well-disciplined soldiers on the other side. Yes Wingz could tell, when the arrows came through, meant to draw the trolls into filing through that doorway, he knew instinctively. Thank the fiendish father. Moving to take care of the problem, Wingz enters the darkness, and easily finds the doorway.

With his fiendishly enhanced strength, reaching out and ripping part of the wall away, is a small matter. He can only imagine the reaction to his massive arms reaching out of the darkness to rip away part of the archway. He chuckles to himself, and continues his work.

With trolls on the way to flank the enemy, and the archway opened up to allow passage, Wingz sends the remaining troll through to draw any attacks that might be waiting, and quickly follows through the archway.

As he suspected, his Troll decoy did not last long under the chopping blade of a large flaming greataxe, a flaming scimitar, muscle and sinew-powered arrows, and the snapping jaws of a large Worg.

A quick survey of the room brings several images to mind. The first and closest, is the Ogre. It is about ten knucks (1) high, with a large greataxe glistening with the fluids of fallen enemies, and flames licking the edges, wearing a chain shirt, and bristling with other weapons. The next is a combination, a rather large Worg, nearly six knucks at the shoulder, with red eyes, and Black coat, dusted with Grey; and an Orc with a commanding presence. The Orc is from the Blood Orcs lands, red-haired and wild-looking, wielding a scimitar with flames licking the edges, and a chain shirt as well. If the Ogre was bristling with weapons, the Orc was fairly bursting with them, although the majestic-looking cloak covered some of it, easily a longbow, two quivers, a bastard sword, a halberd, Flail, Glaive, not to mention the backpack, and large sack strapped to the Worg. Further on, the Half-fiend can see an Orc who appears born to the bow and the hunt, with strapping arms, and a bow that looks as if only he could bend it to his will. A large Gnoll, and Bugbear are waiting at the archway that two of the Trolls were sent to, and Orcs and Hobgoblins watching the others. As the smell of burning troll reaches his nose, the realization hits that these are not ordinary Orcs.

Moving in to confront the Ogre, a battle cry flies from his maggot-crusted lips “I will kill…” and the rest of his words are chopped from his throat, as the Ogre’s greataxe bites deep. Grinning, Wingz is able to scrape at the Ogre with one claw, but does not have enough time to really tear into him. Then the Ogre unleashes two powerful chopping blows that nearly cleave him in two, the Worg steps up, and bites through his lower leg, while the Scimitar wielding Orc unleashes two slashes from his flaming sword. None burn his otherworldly skin, but the Worg backs off with part of his foot, slashing and rending at the Ogre does little good, the Ogre can withstand more punishment that he can dish out.

He cries out plaintively in his head, “Father, Fiends, anyone, help me, I will not survive this battle.” He unexpectedly gets a response, as the Orcs methodically hack his body into many small pieces. “Fool!! You should have prepared for battle, rather than playing silly Troll games. You are not my son.!” Laughter echoes in what passes for his mind after the ill treatment by the Orcs. His body freakishly tries pulling back together, dropping overly damaged parts, and trying to grow new ones. He can’t hear what the Orcs are saying, but he knows they are having trouble killing him and overcoming his fiendish resistance to fire. Then, they allow part of him to re-grow, the head, mouth, and upper body. He tries to speak, but a large mouthful of mud is shoved in, then more, and more. His body is dragged out to a large pit being dug. He can hear now.

“We can bury him deep enough, he may suffocate, or at least will not be able to dig out while we are here.”

The Worg riding Orc walks, up and nods.

“Bury it then.”

Wingz begins to struggle, and calls out in his mind again.

“Father, help me, I will do anything.” There is no answer. As his body is tossed into the hole, and more mud and dirt filled in on top, limbs are scattered about, and buried as well. Totally encased in packed earth, Wingz body slowly grows back together, but will he be able to dig out before he suffocates?(3)

“Father! Anyone!...Anything!”

Something, not his father, awakens in his mind, and he can somehow feel a malign grin directed at him.

“Did you mean it? Anything?”

--------------------


Tuukar walks away from the living burial, and reports to Gorga.

“If that does not kill it, at least we can be done here and gone by the time it is out.”

Gorga nods and directs the Orcs to continue burning Troll parts, and to guard the area from attacks out of the swamp.

The warband moves back into the main hall, and finishes searching here and the Troll game room. Without much more than candles and the Troll drums to find, the warband quickly searches the priests now-empty areas. Extra purple robes and candles are found, some tables with bowls carved into them, and a red granite table in a room filled with burning candles. Images of the Troll’s foul god are painted and engraved all around.

A torture chamber of sorts is found, and Gaak takes an interest. Cruel metal razors and spikes hang by rusty chains along all the walls. The floor and walls are stained dark with blood. Manacles and other chains lie on the floor. An image of Afnar is carved into the ceiling, “watching” the room, and whatever tortures the trolls can devise. A nearby room reeks of rotting meat, with piles of bones and skulls in various stages of decay. (2) Nachip can feel some of the echoes of tortured spirits here.

Tuukar scouts ahead, and finds an area, where strange bales of hay cover the north wall, stacked from floor to ceiling. Vats of dark liquid are nearby, and racks on the stone block wall hold hundreds of drying black candles, each pair still connected at the wick and hanging over a thin bone dowel. (2) The two trolls here spinning the bales of humanoid hair into wicks, are quickly dismembered, and carried out to the Orcs for burning.

Tuukar’s next discovery nearly has him retching on the spot. His intestinal fortitude has taken a downturn since Gaak has taken to feeding him entrails. A large area behind the main hall is filled with the gruesome work of four Troll priests. Hundreds of black candles illuminate a bizarre butcher’s nightmare. Troll priests fashion a sculpture of their god Afnar, with his rooster’s head and body and snake legs, using hunks of still-bloody flesh drawn out of slop buckets. With needle and thread, they stitch the new hunks in place over the older, rotting pieces. (2) The trolls are so intent upon their work that they do not take notice of the warband, as it moves into the room, and quickly kills them all. Their grisly work will not be completed this day, and never by these trolls. Grall and Haggrekk transport the troll remains out to the Orcs for burning. None are willing to touch the inert pile of flesh the trolls were working on.

There are two doors in this area, and Gaak, yanks one open. A torch in the room beyond the door, lights up the area and thousands of nails embedded in the floor, walls, and ceiling. Irregularly fashioned and set into the stone, the nails look almost like steel weeds, jutting this direction and that, all different lengths and thicknesses. After a moment the room begins to vibrate. (2) With a scream of sucking air, Gaak, and Grall are dragged into the room, and pulled across jutting nails. Grall is flung around the room, while Gaak manages to grab the doorway, and pull himself back out. A rope is tossed in for Grall to grab hold of, and he is quickly pulled out of the vacuum. The warband laughs at Grall and Gaak and their misfortune, and both the Gnoll and Ogre leave it to Tuukar to check the next door. “Did they use that for punishment? Or Reward?”

Notes

(1) Knucks are equivalent to feet, Ogre Knuckles as a unit of measure

(2) Paraphrased from the Temple of the Troll God, by Fast Forward Entertainment.

(3) The warband did not have enough acid, or fire to overcome the damage reduction, and energy resistance of a Half-Fiend Troll. They could do enormous amounts of damage to it, but almost all was subdual damage. Normal fire does not do enough, and weapons did not have a high enough fire damage output, to overcome: Resistance to acid 10, cold 10, electricity 10, and fire 10 and Damage reduction: 5/magic (if HD 11 or less) or 10/magic (if HD 12 or more). Tuukar’s player came up with suffocation, which I don’t think counts for Trolls. I allowed them to pulverize the troll, and bury it, without ruling on suffocation for the session. I came up with a way out, because the Warband has a god of sorts angry at them for pillaging one of his temples.

Tuukar Scouts ahead, and Curses – 21-Jul-2006

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

Cool!

It will be interesting to see what the group does with the goblin "slaves/entertainment" (assuming they reach that area)

Oh, and I hope you don't mind my updated sig.

 

[Neurotic]

Go, Wyverns, go!

Was that really so easy as you make it sound? Wingz seems rather disappointing villain

Could you post characters in Rogue gallery? I'm looking forward to see new chars in action, but I'd like to see them 'on paper' too.

Keep up the good work!

 

[Graywolf-ELM]

Go, Wyverns, go!

Was that really so easy as you make it sound? Wingz seems rather disappointing villain

Could you post characters in Rogue gallery? I'm looking forward to see new chars in action, but I'd like to see them 'on paper' too.

Keep up the good work!

Yes, Wingz was a standard Troll with the Half-fiend template applied. Not a real challenge for these guys as a BBEG encounter. Maybe when he returns, he'll be more worthy.

I'll be happy to post him and a few others recently encountered, in the rogues gallery. The warband just squeaked through another session under the troll temple, with Gaak and Gorga, into the low double, and single digit hp range.

I have the next update to complete, and the one after that done. I'll be posting here again soon.

Thanks for reading.

GW

 

[fitz]

As one of the players, all I can say was our last battle was intense, quite fun, very rewarding and very intense.

Our troll was at -31, and as GW mentioned the frontline fighters were all nearly toast when the final BBEG went down.

Lets just say, being big isn't always that grand. I'll leave the rest for the story hour.

Fitz

 

[Richard Rawen]

As one of the players, all I can say was our last battle was intense, quite fun, very rewarding and very intense.

Our troll was at -31, and as GW mentioned the frontline fighters were all nearly toast when the final BBEG went down.

Lets just say, being big isn't always that grand. I'll leave the rest for the story hour.

Fitz

Speaking of which . . .
*looks around for more SH goodness...*

As an aside I have the write up for the first PC-Eagles clash, and it wasn't pretty. I am toying with a SH out of the PC's adventures, but I want to ask you about using the Eagles/Wyverns - where (if anywhere) do you want me to post the battle?
I am willing to go with anything from full credited cameos (where any dead Eagles are recovered as just unconscious so they continue on in your SH) to simply changing the names of the various Eagles and giving you credit on the 'inspiration'... or anything you want in between.
These are your characters and I want to respect your wishes... but they are just too much fun to ignore completely =-)

 

[Richard Rawen]

One-Month-Since-Last-Update-Bump.

You think that looks silly? Try deciphering

OMSLUB

=-)

We miss ya Graywolf!

 

[Graywolf-ELM]

Thanks I appreciate it. My wife's diagnosis took a turn for the worse, and we've been dealing with way too many Dr appointments, and a family saddened at the worst case prognosis that is doled out. Breast cancer, almost done with the treatment to find out almost accidentally that it had spread to the brain. I have not given up hope of continuing updates, I just have had to take another enforced break.

I am still comitted to continuing, and our gaming group hopes to play Friday night. My wife is insisting.

I'll post the next update here as soon as I can possibly get to it. It is therapy for me to play and write.

GW

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

My Prayers go out to your family.