Mathew_Freeman
Adventurer
Great stuff! I've always wanted to play in a siege situation! 
Looking forward to reading the resolution!
Looking forward to reading the resolution!
Copperheads: Betrayal and Strange Runes and Burning Dead, oh my (short update 02/12)
- Thread starter arwink
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arwink
Clockwork Golem
The irregular thump of something hitting the tower door suddenly changes tone, switching from the meaty thwack of fists and shoulders to the heavy thunk of an axe hitting wood. Halgo swears loudly, firing his crossbow at one of the gnolls on ground level. Already half their number have taken to the ropes, the rest either sniping at the group from behind the cover of ruined walls or waiting around the side of the tower where the arrow slit offers no vision. Yip is doing his best to pin down the gnollish archers, but the kobolds skill at archery work best at close range. There's little Halgo can do from his position beyond shooting a crossbow, and there is no sign of someone coming down to hold the door.
He swears quietly. With a great deal of reluctance, Halgo climbs the ladder and looks at what’s happening on the tower top above.
His head emerges into the chaos of a close-quarter melee. Blarth and Geoffrey are fighting on two fronts, trying to prevent the initial surge of the first gnollish wave from climbing over the battlement, while fending off the attacks of the spear-wielding human. Gunnar is cramped up in the corner of the tower, one of the few places he can stand and still shoot without opening himself to an attack. It’s a cramped place to fire from, however, and it leaves him open to attack by the archers below. Already Halgo can see an open gash on Gunnar’s cheek, and an arrow puncturing the mans shoulder. Blarth and Geoffrey have fared slightly better, but blood is visible through the torn rents in Blarth’s armor and Geoffrey bears a few cuts that stain the crisp white and blue of his tabard.
Halgo quickly realizes three things in rapid succession: that none of them are in position to guard the door, that climbing out of the trap door is inordinately dangerous, and that the iron bathtub is still at the ready over the doorway. He offers a brief prayer to whatever gods are listening that his arcane defenses will hold and sprints across the tower to the bathtub. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Blarth cut down a pair of gnolls, but two more take positions on the battlements in their wake. He can sense Geoffrey moving, closing with the spear wielder as best he can to provide Halgo some cover. It’s barely enough, the spear point flashing skittering Halgo’s shoulder with a shower of arcane sparks. Offering a silent prayer of thanks, Halgo digs his fingers under the bathtub and heaves. The iron weight moves slowly, and Gunnar is quick to leap in to help the dwarven wizard. With a grunt they tip the bathtub over the battlements, and are rewarded by the frightened shrieks of the creatures below. Halgo looks over to see one of the creatures dead, crushed by the falling metal, while the axe-wielder and the doorway is knocked off the battlement and laying stunned on the courtyard below. It’s not as effective as he’d hoped, but the gnolls that remain before the doorway are only armed with swords and spears so he comforts himself with the knowledge that he’s bought a momentary respite. Gunnar has only paused for a moment before retreating to his corner, notching another arrow and firing at the confused targets below.
Yip comes flying up the ladder from below, his kobold paws seeming to dance on the thin rungs.
“No arrows left,” he yells, ducking under the blow of the gnoll warrior standing over the trapdoor. The kobold gives the gnoll an irritated glance, carefully spinning on the balls of his feet and hammering an iron paw into the creature’s stomach. The blow is more stunning than painful, but as it wheezes and attempts to catch its breath Blarth solves the problem by opening the gnolls chest with a sword blow.
Halgo uses one of his last spells to do the same to the spear-wielder, hitting him with an extended daze that leaves him staring at Geoffrey with a glazed expression. Geoffrey summons the destructive power of St Cuthbert and smites him with a morning star, staggering the spearman and sending him back towards the battlements. Even as the spear-wielders eyes starts to clear from the effects of Halgo’s spell, Yip dances forward and launches a stunning fist at his privates. The spear drops to the ground as the human’s eyes bulge, and he is quickly thrown from the tower by a second strike by Geoffrey’s mace.
With the spearman gone, the momentum of the battle on the tower top changes. Blarth and Geoffrey both leap towards the gnolls, their attention now focused entirely on a single front. Blarth has done a good job of thinning out the gnollish advance on his own, but there are still nearly a half-dozen alive and pressed up against the corner of the battlement. The cleric and the psi-warrior start cutting through them, and the happily yipping Yip dances along the foot-wide dwarven battlements to attack from the far side. Gnollish archers target him as he tumbles over the crenulations, but Yip catches one arrow and neatly ducks the other. Gunnar, out of arrows, snatches up the enchanted spear and joins the fight, making clumsy strikes over Geoffrey’s shoulder.
Only Halgo avoids the melee, taking a position where he can snipe with his crossbow on the gnolls below. There are still nearly a dozen of them, including the large one wielding battle-axes, and Halgo curses as he sees the axe-wielder make his way back to the doorway. A crossbow bolt is fired straight down, catching the gnoll in the shoulder, but it isn’t enough. Both axes lash out at the doorway, and the sound of splintering wood is heard by everyone.
“They’re through,” Halgo says needlessly.
Blarth barely misses a beat. His swings his sword in a wide arc, forcing the gnolls back a step. It’s a flashy blow, unlikely to hit anything, but it buys him the time to manifest Biofeedback and step into the trapdoor. He doesn’t even bother with the ladder, simply dropping down and using a rush of blood to his feet to cushion the landing. The giant gnoll in the doorway glares at him, but before it can charge Blarth has crossed the floor to fill the doorway.
“Blarth make door,” he yells, and firmly sets his shield at the ready. Luckringer swings easily in his hands, it’s glowing point making wary circles in the space between Blarth and the axe-wielder.
Three more gnolls find their way onto the battlements in the half-orcs absence.
"I bloody hope he's right," Geoffrey grunts, and prepares to repell the invaders.
He swears quietly. With a great deal of reluctance, Halgo climbs the ladder and looks at what’s happening on the tower top above.
His head emerges into the chaos of a close-quarter melee. Blarth and Geoffrey are fighting on two fronts, trying to prevent the initial surge of the first gnollish wave from climbing over the battlement, while fending off the attacks of the spear-wielding human. Gunnar is cramped up in the corner of the tower, one of the few places he can stand and still shoot without opening himself to an attack. It’s a cramped place to fire from, however, and it leaves him open to attack by the archers below. Already Halgo can see an open gash on Gunnar’s cheek, and an arrow puncturing the mans shoulder. Blarth and Geoffrey have fared slightly better, but blood is visible through the torn rents in Blarth’s armor and Geoffrey bears a few cuts that stain the crisp white and blue of his tabard.
Halgo quickly realizes three things in rapid succession: that none of them are in position to guard the door, that climbing out of the trap door is inordinately dangerous, and that the iron bathtub is still at the ready over the doorway. He offers a brief prayer to whatever gods are listening that his arcane defenses will hold and sprints across the tower to the bathtub. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Blarth cut down a pair of gnolls, but two more take positions on the battlements in their wake. He can sense Geoffrey moving, closing with the spear wielder as best he can to provide Halgo some cover. It’s barely enough, the spear point flashing skittering Halgo’s shoulder with a shower of arcane sparks. Offering a silent prayer of thanks, Halgo digs his fingers under the bathtub and heaves. The iron weight moves slowly, and Gunnar is quick to leap in to help the dwarven wizard. With a grunt they tip the bathtub over the battlements, and are rewarded by the frightened shrieks of the creatures below. Halgo looks over to see one of the creatures dead, crushed by the falling metal, while the axe-wielder and the doorway is knocked off the battlement and laying stunned on the courtyard below. It’s not as effective as he’d hoped, but the gnolls that remain before the doorway are only armed with swords and spears so he comforts himself with the knowledge that he’s bought a momentary respite. Gunnar has only paused for a moment before retreating to his corner, notching another arrow and firing at the confused targets below.
Yip comes flying up the ladder from below, his kobold paws seeming to dance on the thin rungs.
“No arrows left,” he yells, ducking under the blow of the gnoll warrior standing over the trapdoor. The kobold gives the gnoll an irritated glance, carefully spinning on the balls of his feet and hammering an iron paw into the creature’s stomach. The blow is more stunning than painful, but as it wheezes and attempts to catch its breath Blarth solves the problem by opening the gnolls chest with a sword blow.
Halgo uses one of his last spells to do the same to the spear-wielder, hitting him with an extended daze that leaves him staring at Geoffrey with a glazed expression. Geoffrey summons the destructive power of St Cuthbert and smites him with a morning star, staggering the spearman and sending him back towards the battlements. Even as the spear-wielders eyes starts to clear from the effects of Halgo’s spell, Yip dances forward and launches a stunning fist at his privates. The spear drops to the ground as the human’s eyes bulge, and he is quickly thrown from the tower by a second strike by Geoffrey’s mace.
With the spearman gone, the momentum of the battle on the tower top changes. Blarth and Geoffrey both leap towards the gnolls, their attention now focused entirely on a single front. Blarth has done a good job of thinning out the gnollish advance on his own, but there are still nearly a half-dozen alive and pressed up against the corner of the battlement. The cleric and the psi-warrior start cutting through them, and the happily yipping Yip dances along the foot-wide dwarven battlements to attack from the far side. Gnollish archers target him as he tumbles over the crenulations, but Yip catches one arrow and neatly ducks the other. Gunnar, out of arrows, snatches up the enchanted spear and joins the fight, making clumsy strikes over Geoffrey’s shoulder.
Only Halgo avoids the melee, taking a position where he can snipe with his crossbow on the gnolls below. There are still nearly a dozen of them, including the large one wielding battle-axes, and Halgo curses as he sees the axe-wielder make his way back to the doorway. A crossbow bolt is fired straight down, catching the gnoll in the shoulder, but it isn’t enough. Both axes lash out at the doorway, and the sound of splintering wood is heard by everyone.
“They’re through,” Halgo says needlessly.
Blarth barely misses a beat. His swings his sword in a wide arc, forcing the gnolls back a step. It’s a flashy blow, unlikely to hit anything, but it buys him the time to manifest Biofeedback and step into the trapdoor. He doesn’t even bother with the ladder, simply dropping down and using a rush of blood to his feet to cushion the landing. The giant gnoll in the doorway glares at him, but before it can charge Blarth has crossed the floor to fill the doorway.
“Blarth make door,” he yells, and firmly sets his shield at the ready. Luckringer swings easily in his hands, it’s glowing point making wary circles in the space between Blarth and the axe-wielder.
Three more gnolls find their way onto the battlements in the half-orcs absence.
"I bloody hope he's right," Geoffrey grunts, and prepares to repell the invaders.
Mathew_Freeman
Adventurer
Blarth not puny!
Great stuff! Real acts of desperate heroism...
Great stuff! Real acts of desperate heroism...
arwink
Clockwork Golem
Blarth looms in the doorway. He's half a head shorter than the gnoll, but the bloodied half-orc is easily wider than his opponent and his eyes gleam with psionic power. The gnollish leader swings a battleaxe and catches Blarth on the arm, and seems slightly taken aback with how little blood comes from the wound. He blinks a few times, hammering the half-orc with the other weapon and getting a similar result.
Blarth swings his sword, and cuts a large gash in the gnolls chest. The blow is easily as powerful as the two he's taken, and blood gushes out of the gash like a fountain. The hulking leader howls in pain and frustration. The half-dozen remaining warriors standing behind him start to think very carefully about charging into the frar. At least one starts slinking back towards the stairway, getting only a few steps before he’s cut down by Halgo’s crossbow.
The hulking gnoll lets loose in a furious assult, swinging both axes with a surprising degree of grace and dexterity given his size and anger. One of the weapons reflects across Blarth’s shield, but the other cuts through the half-orcs defenses. Blarth grunts, moderately surprised that he’s been hit by something nearly as strong as he is for the second time in two days, but kept alive and steady by his mental control. He swings in retaliation.
It’s a clumsy blow, one the gnoll easily ducks before righting himself and letting loose with a howl of glee. Luckringer seems to flare with a golden light and the weapon bounces off the stone doorframe with unexpected force. Blarth feels the sword twist in his hand, and by some twist of fate its blade ends up in the gnolls neck.
The gnoll grunts, lashing out with his axe before stumbling back into his fellows with blood spurting from his neck. Halgo sees the gnoll stumbling back from the doorway and picks him off with a crossbow bolt. Blarth emerges from the doorway, blade swinging twice and cutting down the next two gnolls in line. The half-dozen gnolls that remain, already doubting the wisdom of a frontal assault after the half-orcs arrival, decide that there is only the possibility of life containing more than an endless succession of battle and bloodshed if they flee the fight and continue living. To a gnoll, they turn and start springing.
On the rooftop, Geoffrey and Yip have cut down all but two of the gnolls that swarmed up the ropes. Both the attackers have taken grievous wounds, but are well armed and armored even by the standards of the band. Geoffrey circles warily with a beast that wields a heavy morning star and a mithril shield, trading blows that rattle each others defenses. Yip and the spear-wielding Gunnar fight the other, trying to punch through its defenses as it blocks blow after blow with paired hand-axes. Blarth emerges from the trapdoor and distracts Geoffrey’s opponent, allowing the cleric to smite it down. With the five defenders suddenly free to engage it in melee, the second gnoll lasts but a few seconds longer.
As the gnolls body falls, everyone looks at one another in a kind of stunned surprise. The air is nearly still, broken only by the frightened shrieks of fleeing gnolls and the tired breathing of everyone. The battle has lasted a little over two minutes, but everyone feels like they’ve been fighting for hours.
“You want chase?” Yip asks wearily, pointing in the direction of the fleeing gnolls. There is a sudden sound of air igniting, and the frightened shrikes are suddenly cut short. Halgo cocks and ear at the noise, trying to place where he’s heard it before.
“Fireball,” he sighs.
“Gods no,” Geoffrey says, although no-one is sure if he’s answering Yip’s question or simply expressing the sentiment they’re all feeling. With weary determination, they pull themselves upright and prepare to repel the new threat.
“Into the second story,” Halgo suggests.
“Close quarters if they can fireball us,” Geoffrey suggests.
“We can hide,” Halgo points out. “They can’t hit us if they don’t see us. And nobodies dropping a fireball at their feet after they’re ambushed at close quarters.”
Everyone descends into the room, taking up ambush positions and hiding as best they can.
Blarth swings his sword, and cuts a large gash in the gnolls chest. The blow is easily as powerful as the two he's taken, and blood gushes out of the gash like a fountain. The hulking leader howls in pain and frustration. The half-dozen remaining warriors standing behind him start to think very carefully about charging into the frar. At least one starts slinking back towards the stairway, getting only a few steps before he’s cut down by Halgo’s crossbow.
The hulking gnoll lets loose in a furious assult, swinging both axes with a surprising degree of grace and dexterity given his size and anger. One of the weapons reflects across Blarth’s shield, but the other cuts through the half-orcs defenses. Blarth grunts, moderately surprised that he’s been hit by something nearly as strong as he is for the second time in two days, but kept alive and steady by his mental control. He swings in retaliation.
It’s a clumsy blow, one the gnoll easily ducks before righting himself and letting loose with a howl of glee. Luckringer seems to flare with a golden light and the weapon bounces off the stone doorframe with unexpected force. Blarth feels the sword twist in his hand, and by some twist of fate its blade ends up in the gnolls neck.
The gnoll grunts, lashing out with his axe before stumbling back into his fellows with blood spurting from his neck. Halgo sees the gnoll stumbling back from the doorway and picks him off with a crossbow bolt. Blarth emerges from the doorway, blade swinging twice and cutting down the next two gnolls in line. The half-dozen gnolls that remain, already doubting the wisdom of a frontal assault after the half-orcs arrival, decide that there is only the possibility of life containing more than an endless succession of battle and bloodshed if they flee the fight and continue living. To a gnoll, they turn and start springing.
On the rooftop, Geoffrey and Yip have cut down all but two of the gnolls that swarmed up the ropes. Both the attackers have taken grievous wounds, but are well armed and armored even by the standards of the band. Geoffrey circles warily with a beast that wields a heavy morning star and a mithril shield, trading blows that rattle each others defenses. Yip and the spear-wielding Gunnar fight the other, trying to punch through its defenses as it blocks blow after blow with paired hand-axes. Blarth emerges from the trapdoor and distracts Geoffrey’s opponent, allowing the cleric to smite it down. With the five defenders suddenly free to engage it in melee, the second gnoll lasts but a few seconds longer.
As the gnolls body falls, everyone looks at one another in a kind of stunned surprise. The air is nearly still, broken only by the frightened shrieks of fleeing gnolls and the tired breathing of everyone. The battle has lasted a little over two minutes, but everyone feels like they’ve been fighting for hours.
“You want chase?” Yip asks wearily, pointing in the direction of the fleeing gnolls. There is a sudden sound of air igniting, and the frightened shrikes are suddenly cut short. Halgo cocks and ear at the noise, trying to place where he’s heard it before.
“Fireball,” he sighs.
“Gods no,” Geoffrey says, although no-one is sure if he’s answering Yip’s question or simply expressing the sentiment they’re all feeling. With weary determination, they pull themselves upright and prepare to repel the new threat.
“Into the second story,” Halgo suggests.
“Close quarters if they can fireball us,” Geoffrey suggests.
“We can hide,” Halgo points out. “They can’t hit us if they don’t see us. And nobodies dropping a fireball at their feet after they’re ambushed at close quarters.”
Everyone descends into the room, taking up ambush positions and hiding as best they can.
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arwink
Clockwork Golem
Several long minutes pass, the waiting dragging out until it becomes torturous. Everyone becomes intimately aware of their hoarse breath, the pain in their limbs as the adrenaline wears off. No-one has escaped injury in the gnolls assult, and the sharp pain of open wounds starts to take over now that the instinctual fear of danger and having one's head cut off wears away.
Then a lone shout cuts through the ear, calling out in accented Dwarven.
“Ho, the fort. I am Ogath, Son of Argat, Shieldmage of Thorbeck. We were patrolling this area, and heard the warning horn being sounded. Stand forth and identify yourselves.”
“What’d he say?” Everyone asks, looking expectantly at Halgo.
“We found the dwarves we’re looking for,” Halgo says, relief evident in his voice. “And now it’s time to negotiate.
The group emerges onto the top of the tower, looking down at a small platoon of crossbowmen that have weapons trained upon them. Standing behind the array of crossbows is a dwarf wearing dark breeches and a gray vest, carrying a large shield in one hand. In the other he holds a short-spear at the ready, obviously prepared to give the order to fire if needed.
“Greetings Ogath,” Halgo replies. “I am Halgo, Wizard of Clan Torke. I have come as emissary of the Oleg, King of Borr and Leader of the people who dwell on the coast of these lands. I come representing Borr and the Seldarn Empire that birthed it. We would make peace with your Clanhold, and come offering an alliance against the savage creatures of this land.”
Ogath examines Halgo carefully, studying the dwarven wizard’s aura and paying close attention to the wounds each of the party bares.
“Then in the name of Thorbeck I welcome you,” he says finally. “We have a servant of He Who Lives In Stone in our midst, and would offer you healing. We encountered gnolls that fled as though the hosts of Thorbeck were chasing them down, and such is rare in these parts. It would seem that you have a fight worth hearing about, and we would be glad to share the tale.”
The dwarven patrol lowers their crossbows, and they move into the courtyard of the ruined fort. The Copperheads find their way down and meet with them, Halgo making formal introductions for his companions. The two dwarves are from obviously different backgrounds, and there are differing accents, but the similarities are enough that communication is possible.
“You have had a worthy battle here,” Ogath says, surveying the carnage. “It speaks well of you that a force so few held out against so many. Your comrades could almost have been earth-born.”
The dwarven cleric heals the party’s wounds as best he can, but he doesn’t carry enough power to stop any but the most life threatening of wounds. The dwarven warriors sweep efficiently through the compound, removing items of value from the dead and carefully piling them near the wounded party. Ogath and Halgo talk in serious tones, as Halgo explains the nature of their mission. Every now and then Geoffrey makes a vague comment about what’s going to happen to the spoils of war, but Halgo ignores him.
As the last of the Gnollish armor and weapons are laid out, one of the warriors calls Ogath’s name and points. The dwarven Shieldmage strides over and examines the corpse.
“Klegg,” he says with a smile. “You have done us a great service this day, Halgo of Clan Torke. One of those you have killed is the son of the creature’s leader, and a great thorn in the side of Thorbeck. It will bode well when we introduce you to the Thane.”
“Ask him about heads,” Blarth mutters.
“The ugly one wishes to take the heads of the slain?” Halgo ventures. Ogath simply nods. Blarth lets out a grunt of glee, and promptly cuts the head off the gnoll that was identified as Klegg.
“Ask him about the loot,” Geoffrey repeats quietly for the fifth time.
“Ogath, my comrade has a request,” Halgo says in dwarfish. “The tradition of our lands is for the belongings of the dead to be taken by the winners after such a battle, and he seems anxious to know whether he should be allowed some portion of what’s being gathered.”
“Their wealth will be yours,” Ogath assures him. “We are simply gathering their belongings before burning the bodies, and will remove anything which belongs to our people. Obviously, the blades the gnolls carried were forged by a cruder race than our own.”
“We believe that someone among the humans is providing the weapons,” Halgo says.
“We know,” Gunnar says when Halgo translates the conversation. “The guy with the spear? That was Bjorn. He was one of the weapon smiths for Borr.”
The gnollish equipment is eventually gathered, and the dwarves efficiently gather and burn the bodies. Both Halgo and Ogath examine the equipment with detect magic spells.
The gnollish arsenal consists of a magic chain shirt, several masterwork weapons, a cloak of resistance and a mithril shield of Thorbeck make that Ogath hands over to Halgo as a gift. The human that aided them has his magic spear, as well as a set of snowshoes that bare the magic to allow the wearer to traverse snow twice as fast as he could normal earth. The items are quickly divided, and the bulk of the equipment is loaded onto Blarth for the trip to Thorbeck.
“Have you taken what you wish?” Ogath asks. Halgo nods.
“Then let us go. It is a two day march to Thorbeck, and it would be best to have a head start when the Gnollish King learns of his whelps death.”
Then a lone shout cuts through the ear, calling out in accented Dwarven.
“Ho, the fort. I am Ogath, Son of Argat, Shieldmage of Thorbeck. We were patrolling this area, and heard the warning horn being sounded. Stand forth and identify yourselves.”
“What’d he say?” Everyone asks, looking expectantly at Halgo.
“We found the dwarves we’re looking for,” Halgo says, relief evident in his voice. “And now it’s time to negotiate.
The group emerges onto the top of the tower, looking down at a small platoon of crossbowmen that have weapons trained upon them. Standing behind the array of crossbows is a dwarf wearing dark breeches and a gray vest, carrying a large shield in one hand. In the other he holds a short-spear at the ready, obviously prepared to give the order to fire if needed.
“Greetings Ogath,” Halgo replies. “I am Halgo, Wizard of Clan Torke. I have come as emissary of the Oleg, King of Borr and Leader of the people who dwell on the coast of these lands. I come representing Borr and the Seldarn Empire that birthed it. We would make peace with your Clanhold, and come offering an alliance against the savage creatures of this land.”
Ogath examines Halgo carefully, studying the dwarven wizard’s aura and paying close attention to the wounds each of the party bares.
“Then in the name of Thorbeck I welcome you,” he says finally. “We have a servant of He Who Lives In Stone in our midst, and would offer you healing. We encountered gnolls that fled as though the hosts of Thorbeck were chasing them down, and such is rare in these parts. It would seem that you have a fight worth hearing about, and we would be glad to share the tale.”
The dwarven patrol lowers their crossbows, and they move into the courtyard of the ruined fort. The Copperheads find their way down and meet with them, Halgo making formal introductions for his companions. The two dwarves are from obviously different backgrounds, and there are differing accents, but the similarities are enough that communication is possible.
“You have had a worthy battle here,” Ogath says, surveying the carnage. “It speaks well of you that a force so few held out against so many. Your comrades could almost have been earth-born.”
The dwarven cleric heals the party’s wounds as best he can, but he doesn’t carry enough power to stop any but the most life threatening of wounds. The dwarven warriors sweep efficiently through the compound, removing items of value from the dead and carefully piling them near the wounded party. Ogath and Halgo talk in serious tones, as Halgo explains the nature of their mission. Every now and then Geoffrey makes a vague comment about what’s going to happen to the spoils of war, but Halgo ignores him.
As the last of the Gnollish armor and weapons are laid out, one of the warriors calls Ogath’s name and points. The dwarven Shieldmage strides over and examines the corpse.
“Klegg,” he says with a smile. “You have done us a great service this day, Halgo of Clan Torke. One of those you have killed is the son of the creature’s leader, and a great thorn in the side of Thorbeck. It will bode well when we introduce you to the Thane.”
“Ask him about heads,” Blarth mutters.
“The ugly one wishes to take the heads of the slain?” Halgo ventures. Ogath simply nods. Blarth lets out a grunt of glee, and promptly cuts the head off the gnoll that was identified as Klegg.
“Ask him about the loot,” Geoffrey repeats quietly for the fifth time.
“Ogath, my comrade has a request,” Halgo says in dwarfish. “The tradition of our lands is for the belongings of the dead to be taken by the winners after such a battle, and he seems anxious to know whether he should be allowed some portion of what’s being gathered.”
“Their wealth will be yours,” Ogath assures him. “We are simply gathering their belongings before burning the bodies, and will remove anything which belongs to our people. Obviously, the blades the gnolls carried were forged by a cruder race than our own.”
“We believe that someone among the humans is providing the weapons,” Halgo says.
“We know,” Gunnar says when Halgo translates the conversation. “The guy with the spear? That was Bjorn. He was one of the weapon smiths for Borr.”
The gnollish equipment is eventually gathered, and the dwarves efficiently gather and burn the bodies. Both Halgo and Ogath examine the equipment with detect magic spells.
The gnollish arsenal consists of a magic chain shirt, several masterwork weapons, a cloak of resistance and a mithril shield of Thorbeck make that Ogath hands over to Halgo as a gift. The human that aided them has his magic spear, as well as a set of snowshoes that bare the magic to allow the wearer to traverse snow twice as fast as he could normal earth. The items are quickly divided, and the bulk of the equipment is loaded onto Blarth for the trip to Thorbeck.
“Have you taken what you wish?” Ogath asks. Halgo nods.
“Then let us go. It is a two day march to Thorbeck, and it would be best to have a head start when the Gnollish King learns of his whelps death.”
arwink
Clockwork Golem
The dwarven patrol escorts the group to Thorbeck with minimal incidents.
Most of the dwarves stay away from the group of foreign humanoids, keeping a respectful distance unless otherwise ordered, and only Ogath makes any effort to communicate. He makes use of a tongues spell to speak with the group for a few hours every day, and answer as many questions as possible the group has about his home city.
They learn that Thorbeck is a small dwarven city of roughly eight thousand residents, many of them belonging to one of the three dominant clans. The city primarily mines iron, silver and Mithril, and has minimal contact with the surface world. A rigid hierarchy of Thanes leads the city, starting with the Stone Thane (chosen by the dwarven gods), with clan thanes and religious leaders making up the bulk of his council.
From what Ogath says, the dwarves of Thorbeck have a particularly strong relationship with the spirits of earth and stone – certainly stronger than any Halgo has heard of among his Dwarven brethren. It’s eventually theorized that the Thorbeck dwarves may belong to the same racial stock as the empires Bloodstone Dwarves – a race with stronger connections to stone magic and technology than common dwarves. Certainly Thorbeck sounds as though it’s rich in magic and psionic lore, with Ogath explaining that his order have learned the art of casting spells using shields as a focus while there are other schools devoted to the arts of arcane weapon crafting and lore gathering. Halgo, used to being shunned or doubted by his own kind for his interest in magic, is understandably curious about how this comes about. Numerous questions are asked, but Ogath remains guarded on the details.
It isn’t until the second day that Yip suddenly gathers his three companions together and points out something disturbing.
“Yip not hurt,” he says quietly.
“Me either,” Halgo says. “None of us are? So what?”
“Yip should be hurt,” the kobold explains. “Much healing, but Yip hurt bad. Dead almost.”
He raises the hem of his tunic, pointing at a space where he’d been speared by a gnollish blade. Where there should have been the cleaned and bandaged cut, there is smooth scales.
“No hurt, no scar. Yip healed while moving.”
“Everyone heals naturally,” Halgo says. “We just aren’t used to it because we’ve been hanging around with Geoffrey for so long. Magic healing is faster and…”
He pauses when he sees the expression on Geoffrey’s face.
“He might be right,” Geoffrey says. “I mean, look at Gunnar. He’s still limping from where he caught that arrow, despite two days of healing. Blarth almost had his insides spilled over the tower floor, and he’s walking around fine. We’re healing faster than we should, I think.”
“Blarth have healing factor?” Blarth says happily. He pulls a mean face and swings his sword experimentally. “Blarth really not puny. Don't mess with Blarth.”
Everyone looks at him like he's taken leave of his senses, and Halgo quietly nudges him.
"The dwarves are looking," he mutters. "Put the sword away. Dwarves don't like Half-orcs at the best of times..."
Blarth blinks a few times, as though this is news to him, but grudgingly slides his blade back into its sheath with a satisfying snikt.
“I still don’t think it’s a big deal,” Halgo says. “But I’ll test it.”
He makes a narrow incision on the back of his hand with a dagger.
“How long should that take to heal?”
“A day, maybe two,” Geoffrey says carefully. “Faster if we dress it.”
“Then leave it be, and we’ll see how long it takes.”
It takes until just after dinner. Everyone crowds around, looking at the smooth skin on the back of Halgo’s hand. Yip wouldn't dare verbalise his emotions to his superior, but the kobolds expression clearly reads "I told you so."
“Okay, we’re healing faster,” Halgo says. “Do we really want to worry about that, or should we put it on the to do list of things we don’t understand?”
Most of the dwarves stay away from the group of foreign humanoids, keeping a respectful distance unless otherwise ordered, and only Ogath makes any effort to communicate. He makes use of a tongues spell to speak with the group for a few hours every day, and answer as many questions as possible the group has about his home city.
They learn that Thorbeck is a small dwarven city of roughly eight thousand residents, many of them belonging to one of the three dominant clans. The city primarily mines iron, silver and Mithril, and has minimal contact with the surface world. A rigid hierarchy of Thanes leads the city, starting with the Stone Thane (chosen by the dwarven gods), with clan thanes and religious leaders making up the bulk of his council.
From what Ogath says, the dwarves of Thorbeck have a particularly strong relationship with the spirits of earth and stone – certainly stronger than any Halgo has heard of among his Dwarven brethren. It’s eventually theorized that the Thorbeck dwarves may belong to the same racial stock as the empires Bloodstone Dwarves – a race with stronger connections to stone magic and technology than common dwarves. Certainly Thorbeck sounds as though it’s rich in magic and psionic lore, with Ogath explaining that his order have learned the art of casting spells using shields as a focus while there are other schools devoted to the arts of arcane weapon crafting and lore gathering. Halgo, used to being shunned or doubted by his own kind for his interest in magic, is understandably curious about how this comes about. Numerous questions are asked, but Ogath remains guarded on the details.
It isn’t until the second day that Yip suddenly gathers his three companions together and points out something disturbing.
“Yip not hurt,” he says quietly.
“Me either,” Halgo says. “None of us are? So what?”
“Yip should be hurt,” the kobold explains. “Much healing, but Yip hurt bad. Dead almost.”
He raises the hem of his tunic, pointing at a space where he’d been speared by a gnollish blade. Where there should have been the cleaned and bandaged cut, there is smooth scales.
“No hurt, no scar. Yip healed while moving.”
“Everyone heals naturally,” Halgo says. “We just aren’t used to it because we’ve been hanging around with Geoffrey for so long. Magic healing is faster and…”
He pauses when he sees the expression on Geoffrey’s face.
“He might be right,” Geoffrey says. “I mean, look at Gunnar. He’s still limping from where he caught that arrow, despite two days of healing. Blarth almost had his insides spilled over the tower floor, and he’s walking around fine. We’re healing faster than we should, I think.”
“Blarth have healing factor?” Blarth says happily. He pulls a mean face and swings his sword experimentally. “Blarth really not puny. Don't mess with Blarth.”
Everyone looks at him like he's taken leave of his senses, and Halgo quietly nudges him.
"The dwarves are looking," he mutters. "Put the sword away. Dwarves don't like Half-orcs at the best of times..."
Blarth blinks a few times, as though this is news to him, but grudgingly slides his blade back into its sheath with a satisfying snikt.
“I still don’t think it’s a big deal,” Halgo says. “But I’ll test it.”
He makes a narrow incision on the back of his hand with a dagger.
“How long should that take to heal?”
“A day, maybe two,” Geoffrey says carefully. “Faster if we dress it.”
“Then leave it be, and we’ll see how long it takes.”
It takes until just after dinner. Everyone crowds around, looking at the smooth skin on the back of Halgo’s hand. Yip wouldn't dare verbalise his emotions to his superior, but the kobolds expression clearly reads "I told you so."
“Okay, we’re healing faster,” Halgo says. “Do we really want to worry about that, or should we put it on the to do list of things we don’t understand?”
arwink
Clockwork Golem
The first thing they notice about Thorbeck is the giant cast-iron doors that block the entry between the dwarven kingdom and the surface world. Ogath hails the guards as they approach, and within seconds a booming drum echoes from the far side of the portal. Chains creak ominously as the gates creak open. Halgo watches the gates mechanisms with admiration.
“Old,” he comments, “But still functional. Easily a dozen or so improvements that could be made”
“The Surface Gates are the oldest untouched craftsmanship in the city,” Ogath explains. “We barely come to the surface world anymore, and the gnolls have been little more than an irritant, so our defenses are focused more heavily on the entrances below ground.”
The second thing everyone notices about Thorbeck is the heat. The tunnel that Ogath and his patrol lead them through is several hundred feet long, and everyone is sweating by the time they reach the far end. Moisture seems to hang thick in the air, and sweat is beading on everyone's lip.
Yip is the first to shed the heavy cloaks and snow gear he’s worn since they left Borr, but everyone quickly follows suit. Even Ogath and his men set aside their heavier garments and make do with simple toga’s worn over their metal breastplates and tunics. As they march down the tunnel, the group can make out the sound of smith-work and machinery echoing through the stone. Yip can even feel the tremors in the ground beneath his paws. The sound of moisture dripping from the ceiling serves as a subtle counterpoint to the distant echos.
Then the tunnel opens out onto the dwarven city, and the third thing everyone notices is the downward curve towards a lake of lava, and the orange light the magma casts over the city. Thorbeck is built over the central core of an active volcano, the magma several hundred feet below the city level but still visible from their vantage point at the very edge of the cities downward curve. There are huge gears set around the centre of the city, with metal plates facing inwards, but the bulk of the city seems to be a stone-carved hemisphere of houses that leads to a drop towards boiling stone. Hundred of feet over their heat the volcano opens onto the sky, but the sunlight is filtered through a haze of mist as the falling snows of Borr hit the rising heat from the magma.
For a few moments, everyone looks in awe.
“Behold the Upper City of Thorbeck,” Ogath says proudly.
The style of the city is familiar, with the architecture similar to that used in Petrev. The real difference is in the constant presence of stone, rather than the use of wood and thatch to create buildings. Ogath leads them through the heart of the city, past small crowds of dwarves that stare and point at the odd assembly that follow the native wizard. Blarth and Halgo, in particular, are the focus of many comments – Blarth for his race, and Halgo for his habit of wearing his beard in a short goatee. Halgo makes note of the small number of non-dwarves among the crowd - occasional kobolds and goblins that wander freely, as well as more militant humanoid races such as hobgoblins and bugbears. Several of these creatures seem to be trading casks of fungi for dwarven weapons.
“You will meet directly with the Thanes,” Ogath explains as they walk. “A runner was sent ahead to gather them together, and the offer you bear is important enough that all the Council must be gathered together to hear it. I would suggest that you put some thought into how you wish to be presented – the clan thanes in particular will be adamant that you have a strong linage to back up your position.”
Ogath pauses for a moment, his face slightly uncomfortable.
“In many ways, your presence is going to force their hand. The council has debated for nearly a year about contacting your settlement. Although Kivak has been eager to establish contact, he’s been opposed by the clan thanes.”
They have crossed the open-air city before Ogath pauses in front of another tunnel entrance.
“The Chamber of the Thanes is above,” he states. “It will be a short climb, but you may wish to rest before hand. In the past, other races have had trouble with the steepness of the climb.”
“We be fine,” Blarth announces. “Blarth tough.”
“As you wish,” Ogath announces.
The climb is steep, a twisting staircase of a tunnel that almost has Yip scrambling up on all fours. Geoffrey and Blarth are forced to stoop slightly due to the height of the ceiling, and they stumble occasionally as they follow the twisting formation. Eventually, after nearly twenty minute of silent climbing, they find themselves in an opulently appointed lounge with huge mithril doors set at the far end. A quartet of grim-faced guards stands at the ready, Ugrosh held at rigid attention, and the Stone Crown standard of Thorbeck is emblazoned on both panels.
“I go to report,” Ogath announces. “It may take some time. There are couches and water here, should you wish to refresh yourselves. One of the guards will call you when it is time.”
“Old,” he comments, “But still functional. Easily a dozen or so improvements that could be made”
“The Surface Gates are the oldest untouched craftsmanship in the city,” Ogath explains. “We barely come to the surface world anymore, and the gnolls have been little more than an irritant, so our defenses are focused more heavily on the entrances below ground.”
The second thing everyone notices about Thorbeck is the heat. The tunnel that Ogath and his patrol lead them through is several hundred feet long, and everyone is sweating by the time they reach the far end. Moisture seems to hang thick in the air, and sweat is beading on everyone's lip.
Yip is the first to shed the heavy cloaks and snow gear he’s worn since they left Borr, but everyone quickly follows suit. Even Ogath and his men set aside their heavier garments and make do with simple toga’s worn over their metal breastplates and tunics. As they march down the tunnel, the group can make out the sound of smith-work and machinery echoing through the stone. Yip can even feel the tremors in the ground beneath his paws. The sound of moisture dripping from the ceiling serves as a subtle counterpoint to the distant echos.
Then the tunnel opens out onto the dwarven city, and the third thing everyone notices is the downward curve towards a lake of lava, and the orange light the magma casts over the city. Thorbeck is built over the central core of an active volcano, the magma several hundred feet below the city level but still visible from their vantage point at the very edge of the cities downward curve. There are huge gears set around the centre of the city, with metal plates facing inwards, but the bulk of the city seems to be a stone-carved hemisphere of houses that leads to a drop towards boiling stone. Hundred of feet over their heat the volcano opens onto the sky, but the sunlight is filtered through a haze of mist as the falling snows of Borr hit the rising heat from the magma.
For a few moments, everyone looks in awe.
“Behold the Upper City of Thorbeck,” Ogath says proudly.
The style of the city is familiar, with the architecture similar to that used in Petrev. The real difference is in the constant presence of stone, rather than the use of wood and thatch to create buildings. Ogath leads them through the heart of the city, past small crowds of dwarves that stare and point at the odd assembly that follow the native wizard. Blarth and Halgo, in particular, are the focus of many comments – Blarth for his race, and Halgo for his habit of wearing his beard in a short goatee. Halgo makes note of the small number of non-dwarves among the crowd - occasional kobolds and goblins that wander freely, as well as more militant humanoid races such as hobgoblins and bugbears. Several of these creatures seem to be trading casks of fungi for dwarven weapons.
“You will meet directly with the Thanes,” Ogath explains as they walk. “A runner was sent ahead to gather them together, and the offer you bear is important enough that all the Council must be gathered together to hear it. I would suggest that you put some thought into how you wish to be presented – the clan thanes in particular will be adamant that you have a strong linage to back up your position.”
Ogath pauses for a moment, his face slightly uncomfortable.
“In many ways, your presence is going to force their hand. The council has debated for nearly a year about contacting your settlement. Although Kivak has been eager to establish contact, he’s been opposed by the clan thanes.”
They have crossed the open-air city before Ogath pauses in front of another tunnel entrance.
“The Chamber of the Thanes is above,” he states. “It will be a short climb, but you may wish to rest before hand. In the past, other races have had trouble with the steepness of the climb.”
“We be fine,” Blarth announces. “Blarth tough.”
“As you wish,” Ogath announces.
The climb is steep, a twisting staircase of a tunnel that almost has Yip scrambling up on all fours. Geoffrey and Blarth are forced to stoop slightly due to the height of the ceiling, and they stumble occasionally as they follow the twisting formation. Eventually, after nearly twenty minute of silent climbing, they find themselves in an opulently appointed lounge with huge mithril doors set at the far end. A quartet of grim-faced guards stands at the ready, Ugrosh held at rigid attention, and the Stone Crown standard of Thorbeck is emblazoned on both panels.
“I go to report,” Ogath announces. “It may take some time. There are couches and water here, should you wish to refresh yourselves. One of the guards will call you when it is time.”
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