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

[the Jester]

I’d like to preface the following update by mentioning the ‘exploding dice’ house rule that we use (which, actually, I first saw the one time I got to play under Piratecat). When you roll a natural 20 or a natural 1 on a d20 roll, you ‘explode’ and roll another d20 and add (or subtract, on a natural 1) the result. Thus, instead of a natural 20 always hitting, you get to add another 1d20 to your roll. I like this variant because it means that really studly warriors still can miss, but nowhere close to as often as under the ‘standard’ rule set, and a truly tough enemy might be able to avoid a hit even on a natural 20.

While gathering info looking specifically for Tydonian spies, I believe that Jorgen exploded twice and ended up with a total of about 48 (?) on his Gather Information check. He looked at me, laughed, and commented that this might be the one roll he didn’t want to roll so high on.

***

Sir Martin of Whitewater says, “Cur, I think you may be very valuable in an upcoming negotiation of the baron’s.”

“Me?” Cut looks nonplussed; he is hardly the best talker. But nonetheless, Sir Martin nods.

“Indeed. The baron is entering negotiations with a group of individuals that you might have more... common ground with... than most of my agents. A group of Outsiders.”

Ahh, thinks Cur, that explains it. The Outsiders are a group composed mostly of mixed-blood individuals, including many half-orcs (“pissbloods” being the colloquial term) and some elfbloods, as well as other unsavory characters. It is from the Outsiders that he himself has come; before the harvest festival about half a year ago, Cur ran with them exclusively. Now his loyalties have shifted more or less to Whitewater, and to Sir Martin, Sheriff Jorgen and Sir Cedric. Still, he has no house; he sleeps mostly beneath the stars, in the fields and glens, hidden in trees or concealed beneath screens of brush. More and more he is acquiring a taste for soft beds, dry blankets and hot, yet not burnt, food.

Nonetheless, he is the logical choice for this. Who else knows the Outsiders’ ways? Who else will they respect? Anyone else the baron might send would no doubt be soft from indoor life, slow from never hunting his own food, fat from never knowing the true privations of winter. But Cur- among the Outsiders, he has a certain reputation, a certain credibility. They will take him seriously, for he is one of them.

Thus it is that Sir Martin equips him with a donkey to ride to Kamenda, urging him to hurry and catch Sir Cedric and his companions. Cur takes the donkey reluctantly, knowing he will have to repay his benefactor if harm befalls it, but also knowing that he must be swift. It would not do to be late.

Cur’s journey is more eventful, perhaps, than he would have preferred, and by the end of it, he owes Sir Martin a donkey’s worth.

***

Meanwhile, Goer has hit upon a great idea. He asks around until he finds the local half-orc bar (called the Broken Talon) and in short order starts a fight.

There is very little that Fwaigo “Goer” Smith enjoys more than pugilism.

***

Jorgen has been nosing around looking for any signs of espionage for about four hours, and he’s been sitting in the same seat watching the same group of three men pass secret messages with hand gestures while they bet on dice. At first he thought he was imagining it, but he rapidly discounted that possibility. Now he is certain: they are planning something, and it involves the Baron.

When the three men leave, Jorgen follows them at a discrete distance. When they enter a decrepit building, he keeps walking and goes past it, turning down the first available side path and ducking behind a building.

“Perhaps I should alert the watch,” he murmurs. Then he grits his teeth. If they are really spies, he must try to gather as much intelligence as he can on them!

Jorgen climbs up the wall of the building he is behind in order to survey the one that the three men entered. Soon he has ascertained that at least two of the men are in the upper floor of the house. They appear to be brewing something.

“All right, that’s enough,” Jorgen says to himself firmly. “I know they’re bad guys.”

Even as he speaks, he can hear them talking. Jorgen gulps. They’re speaking Tydonian, he groans to himself. He does not understand it. It is a cousin tongue to Kamendan, though, and he can get the gist.

They’re plotting to murder Baron Rusk!

Jorgen leaps into action.

***

“Did you hear? There’s this creepy house that’s supposed to be haunted in this town!” Kyle sounds excited by the idea. “I heard it’s all creepy, and it wasn’t even hurt by a fire that swept through town!”

This gathers some interest from the others. Sir Cedric, however, it committed to the Cathedral of Clymorian for most of the day; he is studying to become a priest.

“In the evening, then,” suggests Dahlia. “I’d like to look at this ‘haunted’ house.” It’s probably no more haunted than I am a witch, she thinks. After all, as a hermit, she has quite an odd reputation among the folk of Whitewater.

“Thoundth good to me!” Sir Cedric replies happily.

“I went and saw the war wizard, too,” Kyle adds, He does not add that this was against the baron’s advice. “Master, I got you an audience with her.” This he addresses to Otis, as he is training Kyle in the mystic arts.”

***

Cur is following the path downriver towards Kamenda City on his loaned donkey. The weather is good; bees buzz among the spring flowers around him.

Then a strange green form, a humanoid composed of clumped algae, rises up from the river, and before Cur has a chance to do more than draw his crossbow it has unleashed a terrible wave of mental force at him and the poor little donkey. Pain blooms in his mind to the sound of breaking glass. They both reel, stunned and unable to act.

And the river-monster pounds at the donkey.

The poor beast screams and whinnies as the monster slams it over and over, and by the time Cur can think enough to act the donkey lies bleeding on the ground.

“No, not the donkey!” cries Cur in despair. He draws his battle axe and hews mightily at the thing. He lands a solid blow, but the blade simply swishes through the semi-solid mass. He cries out and tries again, with similar results. I can’t hurt it! he thinks wildly.

Then those massive green fists slam in at him. He stands his ground for a moment, but then backs away and flees, leaving the monster to eat his- Lord Whitewater’s- donkey. I knew this would happen, he groans to himself as he flees. Dammit!*

***

Jorgen climbs up towards the window, but the two men detect him before he gets in. One of them attempts to block his entry, but Jorgen loops the man with a lasso, trips him and pulls him out the window. The man gives a shout and then lands extremely poorly about 20’ below. Sheriff Jorgen suffers a prick in the process, but it barely slows him down.

They were brewing something.

The second spy has a crossbow bolt nocked that he had dipped in the pot of simmering- something- and now he raises it and fires at Jorgen. Jorgen flings himself aside. It whizzes past the sheriff, imbedding itself in the wall behind him. In the floor is a hole; a knotted rope leads downward. Jorgen gets a glimpse of another man coming up the rope.

He attempts to trip the crossbow wielder but fails. Still, he manages to press him a little forward. And he draws his sword out.

It’s a trick, Jorgen suddenly realizes. He’s been drawn out and is now flanked between this guy and the fellow who just climbed the rope.

And then pain blossoms along his body as one of the rogues stabs him in the vitals.

Jorgen trips him, blood dripping down his belly from the sneak attack. His gut feels like it’s on fire. His followup stroke on the spy is done almost unconsciously, and it knocks the man out of the fight. The remaining Tydonian spy steps back and hurls his long knife at Jorgen, sticking it into his shoulder. The sheriff grunts in pain and grimaces as his foe draws up a shortsword from one of the fallen.

Then Jorgen does something tricky with his sword and his foe is suddenly disarmed.

”Yield!” commands Jorgen.

The man bolts, and Jorgen whacks him on the head, knocking him out cold.

A quick search of the rest of the old house reveals no sign of other people.

Cheerfully, Jorgen sets out to find the nearest watch house.

Next Time: The haunted house!

*For the record, Cur got xp even though he ran like a baby. Not that I blame him- his axe didn’t hurt it at all, even when he rolled pretty good damage.

 

[omrob]

Most of us were filled with trepidation for Jorgen's saftey on this one, it was pretty close!
I think if it were any of the rest of us, we wouldn't have come out of it ok. But hey - Jorgen ROX! and this is the kind of stuff his player designed Jorgen for, works pretty well if you ask me.

 

[the Jester]

The night after Jorgen’s capture of the spy ring, Kyle, Cara, Sir Cedric, Dahlia and Jorgen approach an abandoned house. The rusty iron gates are locked. A brick wall surrounds the place. The yard is tangled with weeds. The house itself is dilapidated and rickety.

“This is the place,” confirms Dahlia. “The haunted house we heard about.”

Kyle moves up to the lock, trying to pick it open, but after a few minutes he gives up with a shrug. “It must be rusted shut,” he declares. Jorgen clambers up the wall and ties a rope off, then throws down the other end to the rest of the party. They all climb up; then they drop the rope down the inside of the wall and scramble down into the overgrown yard.

“This place is creepy,” whispers Cara.

The group moves forward. Though there is noise in some of the bushes, they reach the house in short order. Jorgen pushes the door open and the group moves within. The planks of the walls have warped over time, and the weather has clearly gotten in here. Various molds and mosses grow within; dirt and grime are all over. Slowly our heroes start to check the place out, soon finding a painting of an impressive-looking gentleman. After some consideration Sir Cedric takes it, lest the elements ruin it further. Kyle, searching a desk, finds a single locked drawer with a trap on it. But before he can disable it, Cara gives a high scream and suddenly a loud babbling sound starts up. It is fascinating, really, and Kyle stops to give it his full attention. It’s beautiful, he thinks.

Jorgen and Sir Cedric each leap to their friend’s defense. A strange, shimmering figure, half in and half out of the ceiling, is gradually drifting down towards him! Their weapons pass through it impotently.

“Guys, this place really is haunted!” shouts Dahlia. “Run!!”

The ghostly figure passes a hand through Kyle’s forehead and he groans. He can feel his will weakening, his senses dulling. He staggers in shock, the hypnotic effect of the babbling broken, and tumbles away from the figure.

The group begins a disorderly retreat. “Not even the power of my pinky finger can harm thith thing!” Sir Cedric cries, as his bastard sword slashes through the thing without harm again. “We mutht flee!” Jorgen takes a defensive stance, trying to cover the others as they leave, but the thing swipes at Dahlia as she stumbles past it. She moans in fear and doubles her pace.

“Sheriff Jorgen, it’s a vampire!” shouts Cara. “Run!!”

Jorgen’s eyes go wide, and he backs off, then flees with his friends.

None of them even look back until they are on top of the wall.

***

Cur is tired by the time he finally reaches Kamenda City. It’s a long walk, but he is used to long walks. He is pleased to at last reach his destination, but when he discovers that there is a toll to enter the city much of his pleasure evaporates. He pays it grumpily- even the fact that he is a messenger for Sir Martin doesn’t get him in for free, and the fact that the term “baron” slips his mind just makes him look silly. (“I have a message for... um... that guy in charge...”)

Nonetheless, before long he has found the Spinning Dice and made himself known at the baron’s citadel in the center of the city. Sir Harth, one of the baron’s advisors, smoothly dismisses him for the moment, telling him he will be called upon when the time comes. “Keep us informed of your location,” Sir Harth orders.

So Cur ends up spending his time eating and drinking. Goer shows him the half-orc bar and the two of them enjoy a few rounds together (and, of course, Goer picks a few fights). When they return to the Spinning Dice, they are surprised to find the others there, pale and shaken. When they relate the tale of the haunted house, Cur and Goer listen in awed silence.

Well, I’m glad I missed that one, Cur thinks. He reflects on his adventures so far and shakes his head. I still owe Sir Martin for a donkey.

Next Time: After the Tydonian raiders!

 

[the Jester]

Huge fields of wheat, golden-brown and waiting for the scythe, stretch out before our heroes. They move, some on foot and some on horseback, along the paths and roads that cut through the fields, radiating out from Kamenda City through the various areas that are tilled and harvested around it. After over a month of inactivity in the city, they are, by the baron’s command, looking for the Tydonian raiders. They have already seen a few small areas of burnt field, destroyed by the Tydonians. Sir Cedric’s face bears a deep scowl.

Though Dahlia is a good tracker, there are too many different sets of prints to ascertain anything near the city. As the group moves further away from it, heading south, the group chooses a burnt area and Dahlia examines the ground intently again. Here, between the thinner tracks and the evidence of damage, she is able at last to find a trail. Our heroes follow it for a time as the sun descends towards the western horizon. Shortly after dark, still trying to follow the tracks, Dahlia admits that she needs more light, and the party sets camp.

The night is pleasant and warm. The party sets watching, hoping to see any troubles caused by the Tydonians in the surrounding fields.

Instead, deep in the night, there is a strange howling in the distance. On watch, Cara shivers. It’s a haunting sound.

The howl comes again, noticeably closer.

“Hey guys!” Cara begins waking the others, and everyone scrambles into weary consciousness. The howl sounds in the night again.

Weapons rasp from sheaths. Otis casts a light spell on a stone. Kyle slings it into the distance, and it arcs down on the ground about 50’ away. Unfortunately, it reveals nothing.

Another eerie howl.

Then the creatures bound in on our heroes: two things that at first resemble hounds, but as they rush through the lit area the strange, porcupine-like quills all over their bodies are revealed. Kyle gives a wordless cry and slings another stone, which smashes into the first of the beasts. The creature just keeps coming, and both howl again. This time, however, Cara’s voice cuts across them as she begins singing.

The creatures reach the party in a blindingly-fast instant, and tear into Jorgen and Dahlia with staggering intensity. Both of them bite savagely, and both Jorgen and Dahlia are badly injured. Dahlia steps back and casts cat’s grace on herself, while her badger leaps forward to the attack. Jorgen, too, melees with the monster, though he is badly bleeding. He twists away as the hound-thing shakes and its spines threaten to pierce his lunging arm.

Kyle, meanwhile, is exploring his new arcane skills. First he moves to a safe distance, near his master Otis; then he casts mage armor. Otis nods encouragingly, then says, “This is what you should do next!” He casts a magic missile at one of the monsters. A moment later Kyle emulates him, and though he only gets one missile to Otis’ two, the combination is enough to take the hideous monster down! Jorgen and the badger, meanwhile, are dueling the remaining thing. Both Hrar and the sheriff manage to land solid blows, and a second magic missile spell from Otis causes it to yelp in pain. Soon it withdraws, and Dahlia casts calm animals on her raging badger.

The party stares at the corpse. “What is that thing?” wonders Dahlia.

“It was disgusting,” opines Otis. “With all those spines, or quills.”

“It was dangerous,” Jorgen comments. “They almost killed me when they charged us.”

The party considers skinning the beast. When they examine its hide, they are shocked to find a brand on it.

“It might be too hard to skin this thing, but we can certainly take that in order to find out who these things belong to,” sheriff Jorgen muses.

“We thould thow it to the baron,” states Sir Cedric.

The group decides to move while the trail is hot, despite the fact that it is dark. They put on armor and ready weapons and torches. Dahlia leads the party back along the trail of the beasts. They follow deep into the night, traveling over a mile, before they come into a secluded area surrounded by trees and find signs of... something. What appears to be some kind of an altar of mixed horse and goat bones is near the smothered remains of a fire. A Kamendan banner serves as the altar cloth.

“Many tracks,” Dahlia breathes. After a few moments she leads the party further along. “After they left the fire, they went this way,” she says. “There were a dozen or more of them.”

“They must be some kind of cult,” Cara murmurs.

“They are traitors.” Jorgen’s voice is flat.

After almost an hour, Dahlia’s face falls. “They split up!” she exclaims. “Into... it looks like four different groups.”

“Pick one and let’s follow,” suggests Jorgen.

But she can keep to the trail only so long, as it heads back towards the city and to thicker tracks. Frustrated in their pursuit, our heroes are nonetheless able to conclude that the cultists probably went back into the city.

“Look, a fire!” exclaims Kyle.

The party turns. In the night they indeed see what appears to be a fire: a large one, a bonfire even. Even though it doesn’t really look like burning fields, our heroes decide to investigate it. It is very late; they are very tired.

The fire turns out to be a party of peasants celebrating the birth of a new child. Our heroes (especially Cedric) celebrate with the peasant farther. The farmers invite the group to rest around the fire, and our heroes gladly accept. Despite their fatigue, our heroes still wisely set watches.

Deep, deep in the night, the Tydonians begin burning some wheat.

Next Time: Our heroes battle a group of Tydonians!

 

[the Jester]

Once more a character update:

Otis- wizard 3
Kyle- rogue 3/wizard 1
Cur- ranger 2/fighter 1
Sir Cedric- knight 3/priest 1
Dahlia- druid 4
Cara- bard 4
"Goer"- fighter 3
Jorgen- fighter 2/rogue 2 (? or maybe it's f2/r1)

 

[the Jester]

INTERLUDE

A few days before our heroes meet the Tydonians, Cur (who the astute reader may have noticed is not with the others) is sitting in the Broken Talon (the half-orc bar that Goer showed him). Ironically, the bartender, Durkon, is a tough-looking human.

Cur is sitting there, nursing a drink, when he notices someone looking at him. He shoots the fellow a glance, and after a moment the half-orc approaches. He’s dressed in farmer’s clothes, with a straw hat on.

“You aren’t from around here,” hazards the farmer.

“Nope. Whitewater.”

“Oh?” The farmer seems puzzled.

“Upstream,” Cur clarifies.

“Oh.” The light goes on in the farmer’s brain.

The two strike up a conversation. The farmer’s name is Zerg, and after Cur buys him an ale he asks what Cur does. Cur replies that he is a deputy and a rat catcher. Zerg wonders if there’s any money in that, and Cur confides that he also adventures somewhat. He buys another drink for Zerg.

“The truth is,” Zerg sighs, “I have a lovely daughter- finest half-orc lass you’ve ever seen! And oh boy, can she cook! And baking... mmm! I’m looking to, well, find someone to take care of her. She’s a big girl now; she needs a husband.”

“I see....”

Zerg stretches and takes another gulp of his drink. “Matter of fact, I have something... special... for her dowry, too. An old orcish thing; not really sure what it is, even, too be honest. Maybe you’d like to come see my beautiful Zerga?”

“Certainly!”

And the thoughts of beautiful half-orcish thighs dancing through Cur’s head blind him to all the clues- especially the untended fields of Zerg the “farmer”- until it is too late. He notices neither the occasional sly look Zerg shoots him, nor the other half-orc’s increasingly nervous manner as they approach his farm, nor the aforementioned fallow, untended fields. When Zerg directs him into the barn, Cur goes gladly.

It isn’t until something in the loft stirs and wings its way out to him that he at last senses the danger he is in.

Jaw agape, Cur can only stare as the tiny white dragon breathes a cone of ice cold at him. He snaps out of it and turns, just in time to hear the slam of the barn door. And the snick of a lock.

Cur howls in dismay as the dragon bears down on him.

END INTERLUDE

 

[Seance]

Sucks For Cur!!!

 

[the Jester]

Sucks For Cur!!!

Sigh... he failed ALL the Sense Motive checks, but made the Spot check to spot the fallow, untended fields- which he then ignored.

Then rolled lots of 1's for damage...

 

[the Jester]

“Hsst! Wake up!”

“Huh?” Sir Cedric mumbles. “What ith happening?” He sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“Tydonians!” Goer murmurs. “In the fields! I heard them.”

Sir Cedric pulls himself up. “Quickly, thquire! My armor!” Goer immediately begins strapping his armor on.” The others are already drawing laces tight, strapping blades on and otherwise making ready. Otis scowls into the darkness.

“I don’t see them,” he remarks tensely.

Kyle suggests, “Master, perhaps if you were to cast a spell of light onto a stone, I could sling it in their direction. That might reveal them!”

Otis nods, and in a moment the plan is carried out; but where the stone lands, no Tydonians are revealed. “They must be further back,” Dahlia states.

Then a light streaks in from the darkness- a little bead of glowing red- into the midst of our heroes. It takes but a moment to reach them, traveling at incredible speed, and then it detonates in a roar of flames. Sir Cedric catches the blast squarely, giving a shout of pain, while Otis manages to stumble away from the worst of it. Kyle throws himself flat below the fireball and manages to avoid even being singed!

Off in the fields, another light is becoming visible: a fire starting to crackle in the wheat.

Dahlia grits her teeth and mumbles to herself. Suddenly eldritch green fire outlines a pair of soldiers near the burning wheat. “There they are!” she cries. “Get them!”

Sir Cedric springs into the saddle and kicks his heels into Thunderpuss. The rest of the party begins running forward, and Cara- whose pregnant belly is beginning to distend- starts to sing to instill her companions with confidence. Meanwhile, Dahlia continues to murmur, waving her hands around. She seems to be almost in a trance. The plants near the glowing soldiers begin twisting about, grabbing them around the ankles. Wheat stalks begin twining around their arms, entangling them.

Otis fires off a pair of magic missiles, but he has misjudged the distance: the Tydonians are out of range. With a frown he begins hurrying forward reluctantly.

The thundering of hooves announces the arrival of the Tydonian knight, moving with lance cradled in his elbow to charge Sir Cedric. The two rush together in a blur and a clang of steel, and when they part the Tydonian is badly wounded.* Meanwhile missiles are starting to whiz by- arrows and stones from our heroes, several finding their mark. The Tydonian men-at-arms begin to fall.

Cedric, from his position, can see that a pair of Tydonians are flanking some kind of wooden box in a cart. One of them shouts in Tydonian, a language a few of our heroes understand: “Now! Get them!” Suddenly a volley of magic missiles shoots into Cedric, coming out of the box! He gives a cry of pain as the knight swings in for another pass at him, and they meet again in a clash of weapons and hooves and a spray of blood!

Otis raises an eyebrow and fires another volley of his own magic missiles at the soldier who yelled, dropping him in a single spell. Satisfied, he nods to himself. The momentum of the battle has clearly turned against the Tydonians as Thunderpuss lashes out and knocks the enemy knight unconscious, and in only a few more seconds they surrender. Dahlia, meanwhile, has turned her attention to the burning wheat and manages to put it out with a series of create waters.

“Tydonian scum!” barks Cara, slapping one of them.

Our heroes disarm the survivors and bind them. Sir Cedric applies some first aid to the knight, who he recognizes as Sir Guisome the Sickly of Tydonia, and wonders what a knight’s ransom will be. I can claim it for father and I, he thinks in delight.

Meanwhile, Jorgen intervenes as Cara continues to abuse the prisoners. “There’s no need for that,” he insists, and eventually- reluctantly- she gives way.

“These scum attacked our town and burned my house!” she spits. “Just don’t try anything!” she warns the prisoners.

“What about the box?” Kyle asks. “We should open it!”

“Why? We know what’s in there- a wizard,” Jorgen points out.

Meanwhile, Otis has begun searching the dead and the captives.

“Well, are we sure?” wonders Kyle. “And why would he be in a box?” Turning to the box, the apprentice wizard softly calls out, “Hello? Is there anybody in there?” He starts to reach for the latch.

“Hold on a second, I’m not so sure about that,” Dahlia says quickly.

“Listen to this!” Otis announces. He is holding a note that he found on the knight. Everyone turns to him. “Meet our friends in the graveyard on 7/16. They will have a few interesting items for you in trade for the elf. They serve our cause.”

Everyone’s eyes turns to the box.

“No,” Kyle breathes. “An elf?”

“We should open it,” Dahlia declares at once.

“Hello?” Kyle calls again, this time in Elven. “Is there anyone in there? Hello?” he cocks his head to listen, but all he hears is breathing and a faint whimper. Wide-eyed, he turns to the others. “We’ve got to open it!”

“All right,” Jorgen agrees reluctantly. “Go ahead.”

Slowly Kyle’s hands work the latch. “We’re opening the box,” he says again in Elven. “We’re friends.” Then he swings the lid open.

Within the box is a strange, slight figure- almost gaunt. It matches the descriptions of elves in all the stories almost exactly: tapered, pointed ears; large almond-shaped eyes; pale skin.

Except, that is, for the stumps where his arms and legs have been hacked off.

Next Time: What do our heroes do with the elf? What happened to Cur? And what about the wedding of Sir Cedric and Cara Reed?

 

[the Jester]

The limbless elf is almost completely unresponsive. Kyle christens him “Shakexill”, which is Elven for “box”. Sir Cedric simply starts calling him “Mr. Box”.

The party, after some debate, elects to take the boxed-up elf with them to Kamenda City after resting the rest of the night to confer with the baron about what to do with him. Along with their three human captives the group marches back to the city, and within it, to the citadel. They secure an audience with the baron and his two primary advisors, Sir Galadon and Sir Harth. Turning over the prisoners, they reveal the elf.

“It’s terrible, what they’ve done to him,” Kyle says. His voice drips sorrow. He strokes the elf’s brow gently. The elf only trembles, his eyes glazed.

“They were using him as a weapon,” declares Jorgen. “It also looks like they were going to trade him for... something.” He shows the baron and his advisors the note that was on the captured knight. They read it grimly.

“On the appointed date, we thall attempt to trap the mithcreantth in the themetery,” Sir Cedric states.

“You have just enough time,” states the baron. “Your father has summoned you back to Whitewater for your marriage.”

“Our marriage!” squeals Cara, delighted that it is happening at last. Her pregnancy is showing; she wants things to be dignified. She wants it to be perfect.

“But the themetery meeting-“ Sir Cedric protests.

“You will have just enough time to go and return,” the baron intones in his stately voice. “I have made a boat ready to take you upriver to Whitewater this afternoon. They shall wait on your return, which must be most quick if you are to be back in time for the cemetery meeting.”

“Do you know of anyone who could heal him?” asks Dahlia, returning to the subject of the elf.

“Your best hope would be to seek out the cathedral,” Sir Galadon answers. “But even the high priestess may not be able to do what you seek.”

Indeed, upon taking the elf to the cathedral, Sir Galadon’s prediction proves accurate. None of the priests can restore the elf’s limbs.

“What about his mind?” asks Kyle. “The abuse he has suffered has broken his mind. Can you help with that?”

“What about us?” Dahlia asks. “Kyle and I were both touched by some sort of ghost, and I haven’t felt as, uh, sharp since then.”*

“I could,” affirms the priestess, “but you would have to provide the material components. They are fairly expensive- I would need fifty crowns’ worth of diamond to effect the spell.”**

The group agrees that this is at least a worthwhile investment for Dahlia, who seems to gain power from her insight into nature. Kyle demurs for the moment, unable to afford it.

Our heroes return to the Spinning Dice, the inn they are staying at. There is still no sign of Cur Sed Seed, their missing companion.

“Maybe he ran into trouble at the pissblood bar,” Goer speculates, and the party- less Otis, who instead sticks around the Spinning Dice to gamble, and Dahlia, who remains guarding the elf- goes to the Broken Talon to check for clues.*** There, after spreading a few drinks around, Goer- who has gained considerable credibility after his bar fights within the place- ascertains that Cur was last seen leaving with a local seedy character named Zerg. Soon, after greasing a palm or two, he has gained directions to Zerg’s farm on the outskirts of town. The party heads out towards it.

Soon they reach a farm with fallow, untended fields. A large brown-painted barn and an ugly sod hut stand a few dozen feet apart. A half-orc fellow who looks like a farmer is just emerging from the hut. Upon spying our heroes, he stops and stares at them, mouth agape.

“Are you Zerg?” demands Goer.

“Uh- yeah,” admits the half-orc.

“We’re looking for our friend Cur,” Jorgen says.

“Never heard of him,” Zerg lies.

“That’s interesting, since he was last seen in your company.” Jorgen stares hard at the half-orc.

Zerg’s face crumples abruptly. “He’s in the barn,” he groans. “He’s hurt.”

The party turns and strides to the barn. Sir Cedric fixes Zerg with a stern glare. Jorgen opens the door and the group starts inside. The sheriff scans the ground, looking for tracks, and sees the heavy marks of their missing friend- and something else.

A scrabbling sound comes from up above.

“Look out!” shouts Jorgen.

Suddenly the dragon emerges from the loft, launching itself into flight and breathing a blast of frost at him. The sheriff cries out in pain as the chill washes over him and whips out his sword, thrusting at the thing! The blade bites only empty air.

Sir Cedric turns and swings a gauntleted fist at Zerg, and in a flash the half-orc is unconscious on the ground, blood welling from his broken nose. Then he shouts, “Thubdue it!”

The dragon wheels around and retreats up into the loft, and Jorgen immediately rushes to the ladder and begins to climb. As he reaches the top, a flurry of draconian attacks assail him, but he fends off the small dragon and manages to gain the loft. The dragon flies away from him with a hiss, circling near the ceiling, and Jorgen curses.

He pulls out a rope and begins to make a lasso.

The dragon swoops in towards Sir Cedric and he swings, smacking at it with the flat of his bastard sword, but the dragon’s momentum throws him off and he twists his ankle, giving a cry of pain. Then it tears into him with its razor-like claws and teeth.

The lasso falls around the dragon’s neck.

It gives a loud squeal as Jorgen whoops in delight. Then Cedric’s flat swings into its head with a loud thump, and he knocks it cold in a single blow. Everyone cheers! They have subdued a dragon!****

“But what about Cur?” wonders Goer.

“I think I found him,” Jorgen says sadly from the loft. “Or at least what’s left of him.”

“Is there any chance-“ starts Cara, but he cuts her off.

“He’s half-eaten.”

“Clearly, then, we mutht take thith thcoundrel Therg to juthtithe,” Sir Cedric cries.

One of their friends has died. Our heroes have a moment of silence before heading back to meet the others.

***

Otis, meanwhile, cannot believe his luck. He has not just won, he has won big. To the tune of 900 gold pieces! He’s rich enough to seriously consider retiring, but he chuckles to himself as he thinks of the idea. Instead, he will fuel his researches with his gambling. When the others return with their sad news, he’s so high on a cloud of euphoria that he doesn’t even really care.

Then a messenger named Colder arrives from Sir Galadon. “Your boat is ready,” he tells them.

Soon they’re off for the wedding.

Next Time: It’s a nice day for a Whitewater wedding!

*In the haunted house, both Kyle and Dahlia suffered some wisdom drain.

**Remember, this campaign is very low-wealth. 50 gp for a material component is very nearly out of reach for most of our heroes- in fact, it is out of reach for some of them. It’s certainly a major investment for any of them.

***‘Pissblood’ is a slur for half-orcs in the Y272 setting.

****In my ‘main’ Cydra campaign, dragons are exceptionally powerful. They are basically gods. This encounter highlighted yet another thing that is radically different in Y272 from my ‘normal’ campaign’s time.