(Cydra) The Year 271 Campaign (Low Magic experiment)

[Seance]

If I recall everything started to...ummm melt because Cur plunged a salty spear into that giant pustule. He was well up to his elbows in rancid pus and had to keep striking at it. It was the zit that just wont quit popping. NASTY!!

 

[the Jester]

Into the Elf-Ruins

The goblins have been informed that their gorge is available to them again. Lazy days swim by. Spring is in full bloom by the time our heroes find the flowers that Lord Whitewater dispatched Goer to recover from the hills to the west of Whitewater. With Dahlia’s aid- for her knowledge of plants and nature surpasses any other member of the group’s- they recover a large bundle of them from a field in the foothills and easily return them to the knight, who turns them over to the nurses for preparation for his ill wife.

During this time Cara realizes that she is pregnant, but as of yet she tells nobody. She decides to wait to tell Sir Cedric until they are married; after all (it seems to her), it would not be seemly for him to know that his seed has taken root until they have undergone the ceremony. Alas for her, Sir Martin (Cedric’s father) has meanwhile told his son that the marriage will not take place until they are certain that Cara is fertile. Though the furrow has been ploughed, until the first shoots show they will remain engaged.

The group spends weeks in the spring training. They know that they must seek out the elf-ruins from which the flaming horror came; they must ensure that there is nothing else that will come forth from it, and both Kyle and Dahlia seek any knowledge about the elven portion of their heritage.

When the group is almost ready to depart, some month and a half after casting down the cyst, Cara, Sir Cedric, Dahlia and Kyle encounter a trio of gnolls. Though Cara calls for peach, the gnolls attack; but our heroes have little trouble dispatching them. Afterwards, they backtrack the gnolls to a campsite, checking for signs of more of them. They find nothing.

Had they only tracked the gnolls another few days, they certainly would have; but time will tell them about the invasion.

Soon the group is en route to the elf-ruins that await them beyond the gorge. One night along the way, Cedric brings down a large buck deer. The group feasts that night; Sir Cedric cuts off and roasts the buck’s phallus, sharing the “thucculent thweetmeatth” with Cara. Dahlia grimaces in disgust, but Kyle watches thoughtfully, considering the reputed aphrodisiacal properties of such cuts of meat. However, he puts the thought of using such things for seduction aside when Cara suffers a bout of nausea in the morning. (Little does he realize that this is a symptom of her pregnancy.)

When the group moves through Goblin Gorge they find that the goblins are rebuilding. The goblins, though not exactly welcoming, are helpful enough to allow them passage, and our heroes move through the gorge quickly and beyond, into the Ashen Valley beyond. Soon they have spotted the elf-ruins along the side of one of the lower mountains flanking the valley. The fire-thing’s trail of burnt vegetation is growing over rapidly with the season, but for those with an eye for tracking or nature, it is still evident.

So it is that the party arrives at the elf-ruins upstream of the Goblin Gorge. It takes about 14 hours of traveling past the gorge to reach the final ascent, a mountain trail that ascends to near the top of a low peak. There, an arch shaped from the surrounding stone by ancient elf-magic leads into a beautiful series of elven ruins. All of the ruins have the same fluted architecture, full of willowy extensions and impossible-looking craftsmanship; clearly the place was made with the aid of sorcery. Though many of the rooms have partial roofs, most of them are open to the sun and natural light.

Slowly our heroes move through the ruined complex, examining one dusty area after another. There is no evidence of recent habitation, and the fire-beast was released long enough ago that the tracks of whomever let it loose have been obliterated by time. The party explores a gallery of sculpture, depicting elven achievements, elves and dwarves together in amity, a wave caught in motion and more; from there they find a dining area, with the table and the chairs shaped from the surrounding stone, but cleverly, so that they can move along tracks in the floor. Moving on, the party finds an overgrown garden, with a collection of hardy plants that have overgrown their former containers.

“This place is very interesting,” Dahlia comments, musing to herself at the different plants present.

Kyle feigns interest, but most of the party is a little bored by the place so far, as there has been no sign of further trouble, nor has there been a clue as to who released the fire-monster. Then group’s interest grows much more intense when one of the vines abruptly lashes out, squeezing around Jorgen’s neck. His sudden croak of “Help!” catches everyone’s attention. His eyes bulge and his face starts to turn purple.

Whoops!

Next Time: Our heroes continue to explore the elf-ruins, and they hear something odd and interesting!

 

[the Jester]

Current Party Lineup:

Cara Reed (bard 3)
Sir Cedric of Whitewater (knght 3)
Dahlia (druid 3)
Kyle Goldenbow (rogue 3)
Cur Sed Seed (ranger 2)
Sheriff Jorgen Boatwright (fighter 2/rogue 1)
Otis Optimus (wizard 3)

 

[the Jester]

In the Elf-Ruins

Jorgen tries to gasp for breath, but there is no passage for the air to enter. Black spots start to form before his eyes. His forearms bulge with effort as he fights to pull the vine that is choking him from around his throat.

Otis shouts, “Jorgen!!” He points at the plant and chants a series of mystic syllables, and a pair of beads of force reminiscent of question marks shoot out, blasting the thing beneath Jorgen’s clutching fingers. Sap oozes out, and the sheriff feels the vine weaken just enough. With a loud grunt he throws it off and stumbles away from it.

That magic is very powerful, Kyle thinks to himself, sneaking forward.

Cara starts singing, inspiring our heroes, and Dahlia joins her. The hermit is off-key and- well, she’s certainly no bard*- but Sir Cedric rushes to Jorgen’s aid atop Thunderpuss, swinging his bastard sword, and with a single mighty cut he nearly cuts the vine in two! Then it entwines around him, almost pulling him free from the saddle. He cries out inarticulately, tightening the muscles of his thighs around his mount, trying to keep himself from being pulled completely into the air.

Then Kyle emerges from the shadows, stabbing out, and sinks his shortsword into the plant as well. Jorgen hacks at it, too; the vine is clearly weakening, almost severed.

Then Thunderpuss, with a mighty neigh, crashes her hooves down. The first misses the plant, but the second slams into it where Cedric hacked it so badly, and the blow cuts the vine in twain. It releases the knight from its clutches and drops to the ground, now nothing more than a dead weed.

“Gadthookth!” exclaims Cedric. “Even the plantth attack uth here! We mutht be careful.”

“It’s elf-magic,” Kyle breathes. “It must be.”

“Or it was a plant,” Cara comments.

The party continues to explore the ruined elf-lair. As they move through dusty, abandoned buildings, Cur cocks his head. “Wait a minute,” he hisses. “Listen.” The group hushes, but at first the others hear nothing. Then Cara’s eyes widen.

“Singing?” she asks softly.

Cur nods. “What is it?”

“We should check it out,” declares Cara.

The party becomes more cautious as they continue their explorations. Soon they pass an open area with a stair leading upwards to a room at a slightly higher elevation, open to the sky. It is from there that the singing comes.

“Perhaps we should finish searching this level of the place first,” suggests Otis, “so that we do not leave any potential enemies behind us.”

“Good idea,” agrees Jorgen. The group notes the room’s location and continues along. They search through an abandoned bedchamber with furnishings of cleverly-shaped stone. Upon the floor is the shattered remains of a statue. The place appears to have been looted previously. Beyond that, a hall pierces solid rock, and unlike the rest of the place that the party has previously seen, the group sees no light. The hall is not open to the sun.

Following this leads them to a doorway of thick stone. The door is damaged and has clearly been passed before. When they throw the door open, the party sees an old, long-unused laboratory. Many of the old apparati, beakers and bottles are broken or damaged. In the floor is a trap door. As Sir Cedric- takes a single step into the room, something- some things- rise from the debris.

It’s a pair of heads.

Their matted hair, gruesome, brown-rotten faces and glowing eyes are disgusting enough, but a small pair of wings- perhaps terribly distended, flapping ears- serves to give the repugnant things an even more loathsome aspect. Most of our heroes are too shocked to move as the freakish heads rise, but not so Sir Cedric. He charges, rushing forward. His sword is already in his hand; he simply raises it up, gripping it with both hands and pounding towards the nearer head. With a single mighty blow he cleaves it almost in two! It drops to the ground, dead (if it was even alive).

Jorgen, too, manages to shake off the shock and charge, but his foot catches on a crack and he stumbles, failing to connect with the other head. Then Otis and Cur start carefully moving forward, but they are too slow; the remaining gruesome head lets out a blood-curdling scream, and Dahlia gasps and collapses to the ground.

“Dahlia! Noooo!” shouts Cara. She fires her shortbow at the head, but to her chagrin her arrow flies wide.

With an angry roar, Cedric flings himself towards the other head. His sword whicks out and in another mighty blow, he slices this head nearly in two as well. It flops to the ground, and our heroes spring to Dahlia’s side. At first she shows no signs of life, but after a few moments she comes around, shaken but not killed.

“Those things were disgusting!” she remarks, shuddering.

Suddenly there is an explosion from the area of the trap: Otis was tampering with it. It was fascinating; it had some sort of broken blue sigil he wasn’t familiar with on it. He is blown back, horrendously burned. Suddenly he is on the edge of death! Again our heroes spring into action, doing their best to render him at least stable.

“He should have let me check it for traps first,” Kyle remarks.

“Maybe you could teach him a thing or two,” Cara says.

And maybe he could teach me a thing or two, Kyle thinks. He might be able to teach me the art of magic. He could become my master, and maybe we could seek out some sexy dragons...

For a moment, Kyle looks like his mind is wandering; then he smiles and says, “Maybe so.”

“Well, it’s not magic any more, if it was before,” comments Dahlia after mumbling and waving her hands around a little.

“So we can go up to the singing or down here?” Jorgen rubs his chin. “Well, my lord, it’s your decision.”

“Let uth ekthplore down below firtht,” Sir Cedric orders. Though the group is reluctant to tamper with the trap door, they soon find that nothing bad happens when they open it. Soon, after lighting torches and lanterns, they descend into a large chamber, part of which is washed in a blue glow.

“Hey, that’s the same symbol!” exclaims Dahlia. Indeed, the blue sign that sealed the trap door is upon a much larger door in the wall here. It gives off a blue glow bright enough to read by. Another, similar door lies broken into hundreds of pieces all upon the floor. There are obvious signs of fire damage in the chamber, and two hallways that lead out of the place. Finally, a second intact door, this one graven with a multiplicity of arcane symbols, is along the curved wall beside one of the passages.

Careful not to touch anything that’s glowing blue, our heroes look around. First they examine the glowing door by eye. Then they examine the sundered door and the room beyond it. The chamber shows the evidence of the nameless flaming horror from the south side of the gorge. Burn marks are everywhere, bits of molten rock and strange secretions like those that made up cyst litter the ground and the broken and twisted remains of the door show the signs of the nameless horror’s rage and anger. The rubble shows ample evidence of the blue symbol as well.

“This must be where the fire-creature came from,” Jorgen states. “It would probably be a bad idea to tamper with that other door; it might have something else like that behind it.” The others agree, and they pass on to the first passage.

“Might as well,” shrugs Cara, and they head down it.

The passage leads for about 25’ before its nature changes. Then, on either side small alcoves open. Elven corpses are interred within. Our heroes realize with a chill that they are in a crypt. The passage continues on in this manner for about 30’; then it opens up into an ossuary. Shelves stacked with elven bones are on every side.

I wonder if they have any treasures, thinks Kyle. Our heroes enter the room and he moves to start searching through some of the bones. As soon as he touches them, there is a rattling sound as six skeletons assemble themselves off the shelves!

A chaotic melee ensues, with the skeletons ganging up on Cur to good effect. In only a few moments, they have cut the half-orc down, but in that same time they have been mostly destroyed themselves. It takes the rest of our heroes but a few moments to slay the remaining skeletons, and they manage to prevent Cur from bleeding to death as well.

Kyle can’t resist; he snatches four of the skulls. He is weak enough that he needs help carrying them, but the rest of the group feels they are worthwhile trophies.

After withdrawing from the ossuary and crypt, our heroes debate resting. After all, as Dahlia points out, Otis and Cur are down.

“But thothe of uth who are conthouthe are fine,” points out Sir Cedric.

“Why don’t we go for one more room?” suggests Cara.

Next Time: Will these prove to be famous last words? What else will our heroes find in the elven ruins? And just who (or what) is singing up above?


*When Dahlia has nothing better to do, she will often start up what our group has taken to referring to as her “tard song.”

 

[the Jester]

A Brief Synopsis

Our heroes are a group of adventurers from a small village (pop. 149) named Whitewater. This village lies on the banks of a river in the Barony of Kamenda. Upstream from Whitewater is the Goblin Gorge, an area long home to several clans of goblins. Recently, a raiding party of goblins stole a bunch of goats from the Cooker Ranch in town, and our heroes (who include both the sheriff and the local petty knight’s son) followed their trail. They parlayed, and in the discussion that ensued the party ascertained that the goblins had been driven from the southern side of the gorge by a terrible monster that had come from a ruin of the elves (who are nowhere to be found in this setting- they have long since disappeared, though ‘elfbloods’ (of mixed elven/human heritage) abound). Our heroes slew the monster from the ruin as well as a cyst full of terrible, semi-humanoid creatures. They destroyed the terrible cyst and have now moved forth to the elf-ruins, where they have encountered a vine that tried to strangle the sheriff in the garden, a pair of flying heads and, just a moment ago, a group of elven skeletons that assembled themselves from an ossuary, where most of the party now stands, catching its collective breath. Two members of the party (Cur and Otis) are unconscious, but the others have just decided to press on for one more room.

And so it is that, after determining that the ossuary has no other exits, our heroes return to the chamber which led them to it. Back past the crypts they walk, and when they come back into the chamber with the eerie blue glow half-illuminating it, they can’t help but wonder: what’s behind that door with the seal? Is it another of the terrible fire-monsters... or something worse?

Well, they certainly don’t need to open it right now. In fact, it seems that leaving it shut is their best strategy towards the door. There are, however, both another door and another passage. The party chooses the passage. The last thing they need is something coming up on them from behind. The passage winds about 30’ and then opens up into a rounded room with a locked chest in it.

“Treathure!” proclaims Sir Cedric.

“I can probably open the lock,” volunteers Kyle. There is a chorus of encouragement, and he moves cautiously forward. He pulls out a pair of lockpicks. The thought of a few coins makes him salivate.* He leans forward, his remaining eye sweeping over the side of the chest looking for signs of traps.

Then it punches him in the face and his lights go out.

“What the hell?!” shouts Dahlia.

The chest seems able to produce a pseudopod, and a single blow has done for Kyle. But the others are not helpless. Sir Cedric charges, landing a mighty blow from his sword, but to his chagrin the sword sticks to the chest! Abruptly, he realizes how wounded he is, and starts pulling back. Cara, meanwhile, dashes forward and takes hold of Kyle’s bleeding form and pulls him away from the killer chest. As soon as she has a little distance, she drops Kyle to the ground and draws out her bow. Cedric moves to stabilize Kyle while Dahlia launches a sling bullet and, though it doesn’t seem to hurt the thing, it sticks to it.

“Uh-oh,” she says, just as its pseudopod swings around and smashes into the side of her head. She grunts and staggers- but she’s stuck to it! She gives a cry of fear and pain as it jerks her to it!

Cedric cries, “By the power of my pinkie finger!” He draws his battle axe and rushes forward, striking the chest again, and his axe, too, is stuck to it. He gives an inchoate cry of rage and struggles to free it, but the chest throws him off, simultaneously crushing Dahlia. Arrows ping off it until finally, with a curse, Cara rushes it with her rapier. She gulps, seeing it crush Dahlia into bloody unconsciousness, and thrusts. Though she pricks it, her blade sticks to it and is pulled free from her hands. Grimacing, she tumbles away and whips out her bow.

A perfect shot.

It pierces the chest in the middle of its body, and who knows what anatomy a chest might have; but it hits something important, something vital. The chest gives out a strange high-pitched wailing yap and then sort of slumps. Cedric acts fast, immediately attempting to stabilize Dahlia, and thanks Clymorian silently for his knightly training in first aid. Once again he has preserved the life of one of his friends.

He and Cara glance at each other wanly. The ‘one more room’ was almost the death of them all.

Over the next few minutes, they bandage their friends, free weapons (and Dahlia) that are stuck to the chest, and are surprised to find that the chest actually does conceal coins.

Cara gapes. “I... I’ve never seen so much money!”

“Indeed,” Sir Cedric says solemnly. “It ith a treathure haul fit for a king.”

“There must be... hundreds of gold pieces there.”

Indeed. A count determines that there are 1000 sp, 400 gp, 2 opals (which Kyle later appraises at about 75 gp each) and a bolt of phase spider silk (worth around 25 gp, the bolt weighs around 20 lbs).

“We could retire,” suggests Cara.

“Wait until we tell the otherth!” ejaculates Cedric.

“Well, before anything else can happen, we need to rest,” Cara states. “It’s time.”

The couple retreats. Cedric and Cara haul their friends in stages, going back to the upper level of the ruin. The sun winks down on them from behind a thin sheet of clouds. By the time they’ve lugged all their wounded friends back up through the trap door and out to the unenclosed areas again, a nap has never sounded so good.

Over the next couple of days our heroes restore their strength. Gradually they come around, one or two at a time, and once Dahlia awakes she hunts down what berries she can and uses her nature magic to create goodberries.

Finally, our heroes feel well enough to continue exploring. Before they return below, however, they decide to check out whatever is singing. They have marked the location of the short ascent to the area from which the singing seems to be coming previously, and now they go back to it. Before they ascend, Cedric plugs his ears (and takes a shot of liquor, to ‘fortify’ himself).

When the party moves up the stairs, they find a disgusting creature nesting atop the walls of the ruin. Half old woman and half vulture, she instantly begins singing- and one by one, most of our heroes stop moving, entranced.

Then another voice springs up, laying across the vulture-woman’s song. It breaks the rhythm, interrupts the flow. Cara’s countersong tears the rest of the party’s attention from the vulture-woman. A moment later and sling stones and arrows begins zinging at her. She slices at Kyle once with a dagger, but already she is taking significant damage from the missiles. Her face changes; fear replaces avarice, and she spreads her filthy, feces-coated wings and takes to the air. Swiftly, she wings to the edge of the ruin and drops below

“She’s getting away!” cries Cur.

“After her!” cries Kyle.

The party rushes back down the short stair, then to the entrance of the ruin. It isn’t that far; they’re hoping to at least get a few shots in with their bows before she’s completely out of range.

But to our heroes’ surprise, just outside the ruin is a group of people, waiting in what looks kind of like an ambush.

Next Time: Enter- the Keepers of the Cerulean Sign!


*The Year 272 Campaign has a very low treasure yield. So far (i.e. to where we’ve played) the party doesn’t have a magic item, though it briefly had the scroll that Otis got. The party’s total coin intake by this time in the story hour had prolly been around 200 gp plus a masterwork weapon.

 

[omrob]

But to our heroes’ surprise, just outside the ruin is a group of people, waiting in what looks kind of like an ambush.

And now ensues 1.5 hours of table time where the distrustful Pc's try to elicit any kind of information whatsoever about the other group, through dialogue.

All we determine is they are a mysterious group of enigmatic secretive elf haters!

Makes me think that we should ask about them where we are now...Hmm....

 

[the Jester]

Seven people, armed and armored and clearly ready to strike, surround our heroes as they emerge from the elf-ruin.

“Halt!” one barks.

“The bird-woman!” cries Cur Sed Seed. “She’s getting away!”

One of the seven sneers. “Don’t try to trick us!”

“It’s no trick!” exclaims Sheriff Jorgen. “This thing attacked us, and- who are you?”

The others posture and threaten, and it rapidly becomes apparent that they aren’t willing to give out any information. While they do so, Jorgen studies them carefully. The first is a woman in armor of boiled leather. A long spear is gripped competently in both hands; a bow is across her back. Beside her is a tall man in hide armor with a humungous axe. An elfblood accompanies them, bow at the ready, another longspear propped against the stones beside him. Four more human swordsmen and –women form a screen in front of the three speakers.

“What are you doing in there?” demands the woman with the longspear.

“Ooshell- those two look like the ones the goblins warned us about.” The elfblood gestures at Otis and Cur.

“What? Goblins? You consort with goblins?” Jorgen asks angrily. “Who are you and by what right do you detain us? We are on a mission for the lord of Whitewater. I am the sheriff of Whitewater, for that matter!”

“And I am the lord’th thon,” Sir Cedric adds grandly.

“I ask again: what were you doing in the elf-ruins? What have you tampered with?” The woman- apparently named Ooshell- speaks quietly, but her tone warns of impending danger.”

“We were just looking into our heritage,” Dahlia offers. Kyle nods emphatically.

To their surprise, the elfblood responds to their words with a growl. “Your heritage is nothing to be proud of.”

“Aren’t you proud of your elven blood?” Kyle inquires.

“No!” he barks. “And neither should you be! Elf blood is nothing to be proud of, it is a mark of shame!” He glares at the two elfbloods in the party. Dahlia mutters imprecations at him under her breath in Elven.

The conversation dances around for a time, with little real information being exchanged, but gradually the sense that violence is a hair-trigger away fades as the two groups talk. It seems that the seven folk confronting our heroes are mainly concerned with stopping anything from emerging from the elf-ruins.

“Too late,” Cur comments. “There was a terrible fire-beast that came out already, and drove the goblins from the south side of the gorge.”

“Yeah, and these weird mucus-guys that were with it- though I don’t know that they came from the ruins.” Dahlia shudders. “They were disgusting!”

“But we destroyed them,” Kyle adds.

Once the party reveals that they have destroyed the cyst and the fire beast, the conversation begins to relax. Eventually, the two forces agree to descend into the vale below the elf-ruins to talk things out, and a few things become clear. The people who are so aggressively questioning our heroes seem to be members of an organization called the Keepers of the Cerulean Sign dedicated to stopping lost elven relics from being disturbed. All too often, according to them, elf-ruins contain things better left forgotten. Things like the fire-beast, according to the Keepers. They tell the party that they wish to ensure that things sealed away stay sealed- and the blue symbol that our heroes saw within the elf-ruin is one of their signs.

Things get a little dicey when the Keepers accuse Cur and Otis of murdering goblins, but the two of them manage to convince the Keepers that there must have been some kind of misunderstanding, miscommunication, self-defense or something involved. Reluctantly, the others let the topic go. It is clear, however, that they have some level of sympathy for the goblins.

After the groups have finally relaxed, and the weapons don’t seem likely to leap clear of the sheathes, and reasonable (albeit opaque) discourse has ensued, Sheriff Jorgen gives one of the Keepers a note. “This designates you as a friend of the sheriff of Whitewater,” he declares. “It might come in handy sometime.”

One more thing comes out of the negotiations.

“We’re keeping our eyes out for something in particular,” comments the elfblooded Keeper, Gelron (who calls himself the Repentant). “There are people in the area seeking a lost relic that should stay lost. A hilt. If you should come across them, they must be stopped.”

“You mean like a thword hilt?” Sir Cedric asks. Gelron nods. “What good ith a hilt without any other partth?”

Ooshell shakes her head. “We know they don’t have the hilt yet,” she comments. “They may have the other pieces.”

By now it is late. The stars are out above the campfire, already burning low, and the talk has lasted late into the night. Sleep calls, and soon both groups have sunk into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. Naturally, they set watches; and naturally, they share them. Neither side is easy enough with the other to trust them to watch over them in their sleep.

***

The next couple of months are lazy. Spring turns towards summer, and the days run short and hot.* A dog show comes through town, which our heroes find very entertaining. Cur gets in a little trouble when some of the folk of Whitewater catch him rooting in their trash; Jorgen thereafter appoints him Whitewater’s rat-catcher. He takes to this new job with relish and insufficient discretion, and within a few weeks he has gotten in trouble several more times, finally being demoted from his position as one of Jorgen’s deputies and left solely as rat-catcher. Our heroes enjoy their time, and Cara’s belly starts to bulge a little. Sir Cedric is overjoyed and happily informs his father; Sir Martin begins making preparations for the wedding.

Goer grins at her and advises her, as she is pregnant, to stick to white wine until she gives birth. He then sets about chartering passage for himself and his friends on a small boat to Kamenda City, both to seek out more advanced training and to see the city (though Dahlia is reluctant to go and debates whether to just stay behind- she has no urge whatsoever to see the city). He’s been brimming over with the urge to travel some lately, and Sir Cedric is highly reluctant to leave his comfortable realm.

But as idyllic as the late spring is, nothing good lasts forever. On the morning before the group’s planned departure to Kamenda City, many of them are in the Fat Mallard. Sir Cedric is out at the Whitewater estate; Dahlia is enjoying some morning gardening lessons from the three weird ladies in town.

Glancing to the south, she frowns. A distant line of figures is approaching. There are glints from the morning sun reflecting off of metal. Some sort of banner flaps in the vernal wind. “What’s that?” she wonders aloud.

The weird ladies stand and look, visibly stiffening. “Oh dear,” Drendlin mutters.

Somewhere, a bell starts to ring. The sound of shouting in the streets comes to Dahlia’s ears.

“To arms! Soldiers are coming! Tydonians!** To arms!!! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!!”

Next Time: The Tydonian attack!

*Summer = shorter days in Cydra. Winter = longer days. Ask me how that works sometime.

**Tydon is an earldom that neighbors Kamenda. They are traditional enemies.

 

[the Jester]

The Tydonian Attack!

Our heroes scramble to get anyone in the town who can fight together before the enemy reaches them. Tad Ranger, the Cooker bully-boys, Cara’s mom, two of the Brownstone brothers, two of Goer’s brothers and his father- the town’s defenders scramble to put together whatever defense they can.

As the soldiers approach, our heroes start firing arrows and slings at them. Soon they can make out that the oncoming group is a mix of gnolls, goblins and humans, with a group of mounted knights obviously in charge. Jorgen runs as fast as he can towards the castle of Sir Martin, hoping to summon the town’s lord and Sir Cedric to their aid before it is too late.

But even as he rushes away he can hear the crackle of fire as the Tydonian force lights pitch-soaked arrows and javelins, and soon the homes of both Cara and the local bookkeeper, Lazarus of Kamenda, are in flames.

The peasantry, panicked, flees. Many of them enter the Garden estate, which is walled, hoping to make a stand there if need be.

The battle is small- there are less than forty people involved all told. It lasts less than half an hour. Midway through it the two knights of Whitewater thunder in on horseback, smashing into the enemy’s flank. The goblins waver, but driven by the Tydonian knights, they hold. The clash of arms rises over the sounds of the flames that lick up around the burning homes. Blood splatters as swords, spears and arrows find their mark. One of Goer’s brothers panics and runs. Bryjah Hunter, one of the bully-boys, falls dead, but when the battle is over he is Whitewater’s only loss. The enemy has been slain or captured.

Exultant- especially about the capture of several of the Tydonian knights- Goer hurries over to Sir Martin. “My lord, we should kill the captives so they can’t attack us again!” he exclaims.

“Nonsense,” Sir Martin replies. “We will ransom the knights back to their earl, as is the civilized thing to do.”

“But they might return! We should-“

“We will behave appropriately, Fwaigo,” Sir Martin cuts him off.

Grumbling, Fwaigo “Goer” Smith mutters, “Yes, my lord.” But it’s a terrible idea.

Sir Cedric and Sir Martin confer. “We must warn the baron immediately,” Sir Martin declares. “Son, I know that you and your companions are already planning to go to Kamenda City on the morrow; it is a good thing. You must obtain an audience with the baron and inform him of this attack.”

“Of courthe, father,” Sir Cedric replies. “We thall do tho immediately upon our arrival!”

Sir Martin pulls a signet ring from his finger. “You go as my representative, son,” he says solemnly, handing over the ring. “You have my blessings. Be careful- if the Tydonians are attacking us here, who knows where else they have already struck?”

“Bah! If we encounter any more of the Tydonian thcum, we thall overcome them by the power of my pinky finger!”

Sir Martin nods, pleased and a little puzzled. My son, he thinks warmly. “And when you return,” he adds, “we will have your marriage.”

“Yes, father!”

About time, thinks Cara. She is showing now.

***

Kamenda City, surrounded by a wall, has thousands of people living in it. Our heroes have never seen anything to compare to it. Dahlia feels her stomach twist; were it not for Sir Martin’s mission, she might not have come at all. So many people, she thinks uncomfortably. How can they live crammed together like this?

The audience comes after only a few hours in the city. The party- less Cur, for the boat would not fit the entire group, and Sir Martin had requested that he come to the estate to discuss some possible other (but related) mission for him- enters the baron’s audience chamber and approach the baronial throne. Baron Rusk sits before them, a man of middle years and thinning hair. He has a fairly imperious air about him; behind him are a pair of his counselors, who Sir Cedric and Cara both recognize as Sir Harth and Sir Galadon. Throughout their audience, the two advisors are constantly whispering to Baron Rusk. When the group tells the baron of the Tydonian attack, he only nods.

“We have been receiving reports of Tydonian attacks along our southern border,” Baron Rusk declares in a booming voice. “Since Tydon is to the east, this means that either the Earl of Tydon has already taken the Duchy of Vulgreen to the south, or he has made alliance with it, or that somehow he’s sneaking his men onto it. Either way, it has led to attack from an unexpected direction. So far the attacks have been probes, with just a few knights employing bands or mercenary humans, gnolls and goblins.”

“Yeah, they had goblins and gnolls with them when they attacked us,” Kyle agrees.

“Tydonian thcum! We overcame them. They could not thtand before the power of our pinky fingerth!” Sir Cedric announces.

The baron murmurs something to his advisors. A few of our heroes overhear him, and they are surprised to discover that his voice changes from its manly tones to a whining boyish one when he addresses his advisors. “What does that mean?” he whimpers.

“It must be some kind of metaphor, my lord,” Sir Harth soothes him softly.

The group talks with the Baron for a time. He asserts (again in his strong, decisive voice) that he is gathering his forces already for a counterstrike. In fact, since he has not paid the scutage, Sir Martin owes the Baron a company of ten men. Perhaps Sir Cedric and his folk are a good start?

“Ekthellent!” enthuses Sir Cedric. “We are, of course, at your thervithe!”

There have even been several raids on the farms outlying Kamenda City itself, the baron and his advisors reveal. A band of knights and mercenaries have been burning peasant huts. Once word reached the capitol, the Baron naturally dispatched hunting parties, but they’ve had no luck as of yet.

“Well, we’ll be happy to try to track them down,” Dahlia offers.

Baron Rusk makes a dismissive gesture. “I may have other tasks for you to perform as well,” he states. “Make certain that you are available to me at need.” He gestures, and a page brings a bag of ten gold pieces to the group. “This should help subsidize your stay in our fair city.”

“Oh.” Sir Cedric seems faintly disappointed. “I am thertain, if we are to thtay in peathant lodgingth, that it will.” He frowns.

“Surely, Sir Cedric, your father and you are not penniless?” Sir Harth inquires tartly. “You must understand that the treasury is far better spent on the war effort than on your stay.”

“Hmph,” Sir Cedric snorts.

Our heroes then seek lodging at a place called the Spinning Dice. Naturally, there is gaming happening in the inn; and equally naturally, Otis finds himself irresistibly drawn in to the dice games. The others spend some time exploring various areas of the city; Cara finds a very talented woman named Mishra Tone who performs in the market square in the evening. Sir Cedric finds himself drawn to the Cathedral of Clymorian, where he begins making inquiries about taking priestly vows. Dahlia and Kyle head out together into the town, Kyle seeking a lapidary. And Jorgen goes nosing about, looking for any signs of Tydonian spies.

And boy does he have amazing luck - if it can be called lucky at all.

Next Time: Jorgen- alone against a nest of spies! Cur’s journey to Kamenda City! A few rumors! And a haunted house!

 

[Baron Opal]

I've been enjoying this tale, particularly the low magic experiment side. I was worried about the characters once I recognized the cyst...

Those pesky elves, delving into mysteries mortals were not meant to know.

 

[the Jester]

I've been enjoying this tale, particularly the low magic experiment side. I was worried about the characters once I recognized the cyst...

Glad you're enjoying it, Baron O!

Expect another update, hmm, maybe even today, depending on how things go with my time.

Just as a hint of foreshadowing, this group had its first pc death last night. Won't tell ya who, but I will say it's about two games' worth of updates away.