drnuncheon
Explorer
DiFier said:
If anyone does recognize them, they get a special no-prize, and my deepest sympathies for what's going on at that place now.
J
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drnuncheon's Freeport Story Hour - Book II: Inheritance
- Thread starter drnuncheon
- Start date
If anyone does recognize them, they get a special no-prize, and my deepest sympathies for what's going on at that place now.
J
Drusilia Nailo
First Post
Re: Session Thirteen, Part Four: The Voice of a God
You think? Attacking the heroes, and then keeping their magical weapons close by? A bad idea? Naaaaah.
drnuncheon said:
You think? Attacking the heroes, and then keeping their magical weapons close by? A bad idea? Naaaaah.
drnuncheon
Explorer
I have been lax...
Fortunately my wife has not.
Update tomorrow. For now, go read the new thread...
Drusilia Naïlo: Making of a Watchman
Fortunately my wife has not.
Update tomorrow. For now, go read the new thread...
Drusilia Naïlo: Making of a Watchman
drnuncheon
Explorer
Session Thirteen, Part Five: The Storm God's Wrath
The prisoners exploded forth from the hatch. All around, the sailors hesitated, looking to their captain for guidance.
A harsh voice cut the air. "Idiots! It was only a spell! Malsvirthrae!" At his word and gesture, a cloud of billowing green settled over the hatch. The sound of bodies falling from the ladder, choking and retching, was almost obscured by the clash of weapons on deck. Only one more figure emerged, carrying a huge blade, the gas clinging to the spikes on his armor as if it did not want to let go.
The captain shifted his blade uncertainly. "This one thinks he knows the voice of a god when he hears it, brother!" Then the elf-woman was upon him, and his ineffectual parry was knocked aside by her cutlass.
The captain stumbled backwards, blood staining the shoulder of his finery, and Dru was ready to press her advantage when a leather thong snaked around her blade and yanked it from her grasp. She turned to see the leather-clad priestess coiling her whip for another strike.
Through the narrow slit in the helmet, Di'Fier could see Volodya desperately trying to hold off a group of marines, but the horse-trainer's life had not been one of combat, and he dropped under one of their blades. No time for that now, he thought. We've got to get rid of their spellcasters or we're all dead. His blade whistling through the air, he stepped forward, opening a thin red line along the woman's side.
Beside him, Dru had the same idea. Ignoring the captain - and taking a wound to the side for her trouble - Dru had dived for the machete, grabbing it from her roll and coming up to attack the priestess - who wasn't there. She followed Di'Fier's gaze, up...the woman had risen into the air, lashed now by the winds and rain but safe from the uprising. How dare she?
"Sventarcaniss!" Di'Fier's spell reached out towards the cleric, trying to pick apart the delicate bonds of magic that held her aloft, but she had woven them too tightly for his spell to breach. It dissipated, ineffective, as seething black bolts slammed into him from the hand of the captain's brother, sending him staggering a step back. He shook his head to clear it and took stock of the situation.
Jethis had joined the fray, fighting against his former crewmen. Blood ran from his scalp, but Shesara was beside him with a cutlass. Benares was pressing the captain, trying to get past to his demon-worshiping brother. Dru had managed to slip past the little man's guarding rapier to harry the wizard, but as he watched, a bolt of light burned into her back from the priestess hanging above the deck even as green viscid globs slammed into her from the front. There was only one thing to do.
So he charged.
Above him, the winds howled, as sailors clung deserately to their perches, trying vainly to furl the sails before the inevitable happened - a tear, running across the fabric. The heavy canvas slapped at of the sailors, sending him plummeting to the deck below. Knives were drawn as his companions tried to cut the sail loose. The mast shrieked in protest at the winds.
Di'Fier's first clumsy swing missed the captain by a mile. The heavy, unfamiliar armor, the tossing of the ship, the slickness of the deck...he nearly pitched head-first into the cabins. Somehow, the captain's blade found an opening in the armor, and he vaugely wondered why he had even bothered to don it. Sliding to one knee, he brought the blade up and around, forcing the little man to back away - there was no way he could parry it with his slender rapier.
Di'Fier cursed the helmet, hardly able to see from the visor. He reached up and ripped it from his head, sending it skittering across the deck. The cold rain beat at his face, but he could see the robed form fall before Dru's withering assault. He swung his own blade into the air and moved forward, letting the familiar patterns of his training move his arms. The captain could only dodge, his return thrusts skittering off of the plate that protected Di'Fier's chest. Thye mage stepped forward, slamming the blade down onto his foe, feeling the collarbone shatter even though the mail held.
Then the rolling of the sea and the blood on deck betrayed him, and he fell sprawling on the wood. Above him, the captain struggled forward with a bloody grimace, raising his good arm to strike his helpless foe...until a foot of heavy steel passed halfway through his neck.
"I wouldn't have made a good slave anyway," Dru informed the captain, prying her rapier from his lifeless fingers.
Flashes of lightning:
The mast shatters. The broken end slams into the deck like a battering ram, splintering wood and shaking the entire ship, flinging crewmen into the roiling sea where they areswallowed without a trace. The stays give way, and the great log pitches overboard into the storm itself.
In the bilges, chest-deep in brine. The mercenaries labor at the pumps, trying desperately to keep ahead of the incoming water, and curse as they see it is not enough.
The prow of the ship. An elven woman clings tightly to the stays of the foremast. Her eyes search for anything - a respite from the storm, a scrap of land, anything but the churning waves.
Belowdecks. Men search frantically for anything that will float, carrying it up to join the makeshift raft that is assembling above them.
Above, two gnomes, a halfling, and an old woman sit trembling in the ship's boat as the raft grows around them. It is the first sea voyage for any of them - and, they fear, the last.
The ship lurches, shudders like a living thing wounded, grinding against something below the surface.
A wave crashes over the deck, sweeping it clean of raft and men.
Waves toss the raft as the ill-made knots holding it together begin to disintegrate. More bodies are hauled on-board. One points to something ahead.
A lone figure struggles with the ship's tiller until he sees that the raft is gone. He commends his soul to his god and waits for the inevitable.
The ship's boat hits sand. Sad remnants of the raft, still tied to it, bob uncertainly in the shallow water.
- end of session thirteen -
The prisoners exploded forth from the hatch. All around, the sailors hesitated, looking to their captain for guidance.
A harsh voice cut the air. "Idiots! It was only a spell! Malsvirthrae!" At his word and gesture, a cloud of billowing green settled over the hatch. The sound of bodies falling from the ladder, choking and retching, was almost obscured by the clash of weapons on deck. Only one more figure emerged, carrying a huge blade, the gas clinging to the spikes on his armor as if it did not want to let go.
The captain shifted his blade uncertainly. "This one thinks he knows the voice of a god when he hears it, brother!" Then the elf-woman was upon him, and his ineffectual parry was knocked aside by her cutlass.
The captain stumbled backwards, blood staining the shoulder of his finery, and Dru was ready to press her advantage when a leather thong snaked around her blade and yanked it from her grasp. She turned to see the leather-clad priestess coiling her whip for another strike.
Through the narrow slit in the helmet, Di'Fier could see Volodya desperately trying to hold off a group of marines, but the horse-trainer's life had not been one of combat, and he dropped under one of their blades. No time for that now, he thought. We've got to get rid of their spellcasters or we're all dead. His blade whistling through the air, he stepped forward, opening a thin red line along the woman's side.
Beside him, Dru had the same idea. Ignoring the captain - and taking a wound to the side for her trouble - Dru had dived for the machete, grabbing it from her roll and coming up to attack the priestess - who wasn't there. She followed Di'Fier's gaze, up...the woman had risen into the air, lashed now by the winds and rain but safe from the uprising. How dare she?
"Sventarcaniss!" Di'Fier's spell reached out towards the cleric, trying to pick apart the delicate bonds of magic that held her aloft, but she had woven them too tightly for his spell to breach. It dissipated, ineffective, as seething black bolts slammed into him from the hand of the captain's brother, sending him staggering a step back. He shook his head to clear it and took stock of the situation.
Jethis had joined the fray, fighting against his former crewmen. Blood ran from his scalp, but Shesara was beside him with a cutlass. Benares was pressing the captain, trying to get past to his demon-worshiping brother. Dru had managed to slip past the little man's guarding rapier to harry the wizard, but as he watched, a bolt of light burned into her back from the priestess hanging above the deck even as green viscid globs slammed into her from the front. There was only one thing to do.
So he charged.
Above him, the winds howled, as sailors clung deserately to their perches, trying vainly to furl the sails before the inevitable happened - a tear, running across the fabric. The heavy canvas slapped at of the sailors, sending him plummeting to the deck below. Knives were drawn as his companions tried to cut the sail loose. The mast shrieked in protest at the winds.
Di'Fier's first clumsy swing missed the captain by a mile. The heavy, unfamiliar armor, the tossing of the ship, the slickness of the deck...he nearly pitched head-first into the cabins. Somehow, the captain's blade found an opening in the armor, and he vaugely wondered why he had even bothered to don it. Sliding to one knee, he brought the blade up and around, forcing the little man to back away - there was no way he could parry it with his slender rapier.
Di'Fier cursed the helmet, hardly able to see from the visor. He reached up and ripped it from his head, sending it skittering across the deck. The cold rain beat at his face, but he could see the robed form fall before Dru's withering assault. He swung his own blade into the air and moved forward, letting the familiar patterns of his training move his arms. The captain could only dodge, his return thrusts skittering off of the plate that protected Di'Fier's chest. Thye mage stepped forward, slamming the blade down onto his foe, feeling the collarbone shatter even though the mail held.
Then the rolling of the sea and the blood on deck betrayed him, and he fell sprawling on the wood. Above him, the captain struggled forward with a bloody grimace, raising his good arm to strike his helpless foe...until a foot of heavy steel passed halfway through his neck.
"I wouldn't have made a good slave anyway," Dru informed the captain, prying her rapier from his lifeless fingers.
Flashes of lightning:
The mast shatters. The broken end slams into the deck like a battering ram, splintering wood and shaking the entire ship, flinging crewmen into the roiling sea where they areswallowed without a trace. The stays give way, and the great log pitches overboard into the storm itself.
In the bilges, chest-deep in brine. The mercenaries labor at the pumps, trying desperately to keep ahead of the incoming water, and curse as they see it is not enough.
The prow of the ship. An elven woman clings tightly to the stays of the foremast. Her eyes search for anything - a respite from the storm, a scrap of land, anything but the churning waves.
Belowdecks. Men search frantically for anything that will float, carrying it up to join the makeshift raft that is assembling above them.
Above, two gnomes, a halfling, and an old woman sit trembling in the ship's boat as the raft grows around them. It is the first sea voyage for any of them - and, they fear, the last.
The ship lurches, shudders like a living thing wounded, grinding against something below the surface.
A wave crashes over the deck, sweeping it clean of raft and men.
Waves toss the raft as the ill-made knots holding it together begin to disintegrate. More bodies are hauled on-board. One points to something ahead.
A lone figure struggles with the ship's tiller until he sees that the raft is gone. He commends his soul to his god and waits for the inevitable.
The ship's boat hits sand. Sad remnants of the raft, still tied to it, bob uncertainly in the shallow water.
- end of session thirteen -
Last edited:
drnuncheon
Explorer
Session Fourteen, Part One: Cast Away
Benares' Journal
Day (Night) One - Island Beach
We have escaped from the 'tender mercies' of our enslaving captors, but at what cost? The ship is gone and we are marooned on an unknown island, huddled together under the ship's overturned boat as a makeshift shelter. Two of our number are gone - Kolya, the quiet leatherworker, and Jethis, who I last saw at the tiller of the ship, still trying to bring it over the reef.
Still, it is a welcome relief from being in chains. The rather peculiar agents of our deliverance are known as Dru and Di'Fier - they appear to be Watchmen from the City of Freeport and after seeing the way they handle themselves it is a wonder that Freeport is still the lawless city that it is. One would think they would eventually run short of criminals.
My light is fading so I will resume tomorrow.
Day Two - Island Beach
In the daylight, we have managed to collect some of the flotsam that has washed to shore, or near it, including the captain's chest, which appears to be magical. Dru is trying to open it now, which seems to involve a great deal of kicking and swearing.
We are not a group equipped to handle survival in the wild - of us all, only Unn has more than a passing familiarity with plants, and her expertise is restricted to the cooler latitudes of her homeland. Still, we shall not want for water, if we can find a container - I at least can provide that.
The elven bard has proved herself of uncommon worth as well - indeed, her healing spells are more powerful than my own, which is good news indeed, for my own capabilities in that area are sorely limited.
Dru looked up from the chest at the all-too-familiar sound of Di'Fier drawing his sword. Her own blade slid forth from its scabbard, and she scanned the dunes for what he saw, ignoring the surprised looks of her companions.
There. Heads, bobbing up from behind the dune. Coming this way. But they're not human...they look like...birds? Even as the realization hit her, the creatures charged over the sandy hill with raucous shrieks - birds indeed, taller and more muscular than a man, with cruel hooked beaks and tiny flightless wings. The others dove for their weapons.
Two steps, and Dru was shoving Unn roughly under the boat to join Jim. Hopefully they'll ignore them, she thought, slicing the air to keep one at bay. The others had drawn their weapons - they had managed to keep a couple of the cutlasses, and there were plenty of makeshift clubs about - and Shesara's song buoyed them all, filling them with hope for victory.
The thing ran at her again, and she dodged to the side, letting its momentum bury her rapier deep inside it. The foolish bird staggered back, then came at the astonished Dru again, lashing out at her face and nearly knocking her to the bloody sand.
Di'Fier fell back, crimson running down his arm. He'd wounded the creature, but it had paid him back, and with interest. I wish I had some spells left... The beak snapped at him again, and he barely managed to interpose his sword, beginning a brief tug-of-war.
Something inside of him snapped. "I am not," he roared, "going to lose to a giant chicken!" Wrenching his blade free, he brought it around in a wide arc, severing the head and sending the body to run spasmodically down the beach.
He looked around - Dru was pulling her rapier free of another one that twitched on the beach, and the rest of the flock, deciding that discretion was indeed the better part of valor, had taken to the hills, leaving the group of battered survivors behind.
Dru wiped her blade on the feathers. "I bet you were all wondering where lunch was going to come from."
Benares' Journal
Day (Night) One - Island Beach
We have escaped from the 'tender mercies' of our enslaving captors, but at what cost? The ship is gone and we are marooned on an unknown island, huddled together under the ship's overturned boat as a makeshift shelter. Two of our number are gone - Kolya, the quiet leatherworker, and Jethis, who I last saw at the tiller of the ship, still trying to bring it over the reef.
Still, it is a welcome relief from being in chains. The rather peculiar agents of our deliverance are known as Dru and Di'Fier - they appear to be Watchmen from the City of Freeport and after seeing the way they handle themselves it is a wonder that Freeport is still the lawless city that it is. One would think they would eventually run short of criminals.
My light is fading so I will resume tomorrow.
Day Two - Island Beach
In the daylight, we have managed to collect some of the flotsam that has washed to shore, or near it, including the captain's chest, which appears to be magical. Dru is trying to open it now, which seems to involve a great deal of kicking and swearing.
We are not a group equipped to handle survival in the wild - of us all, only Unn has more than a passing familiarity with plants, and her expertise is restricted to the cooler latitudes of her homeland. Still, we shall not want for water, if we can find a container - I at least can provide that.
The elven bard has proved herself of uncommon worth as well - indeed, her healing spells are more powerful than my own, which is good news indeed, for my own capabilities in that area are sorely limited.
Dru looked up from the chest at the all-too-familiar sound of Di'Fier drawing his sword. Her own blade slid forth from its scabbard, and she scanned the dunes for what he saw, ignoring the surprised looks of her companions.
There. Heads, bobbing up from behind the dune. Coming this way. But they're not human...they look like...birds? Even as the realization hit her, the creatures charged over the sandy hill with raucous shrieks - birds indeed, taller and more muscular than a man, with cruel hooked beaks and tiny flightless wings. The others dove for their weapons.
Two steps, and Dru was shoving Unn roughly under the boat to join Jim. Hopefully they'll ignore them, she thought, slicing the air to keep one at bay. The others had drawn their weapons - they had managed to keep a couple of the cutlasses, and there were plenty of makeshift clubs about - and Shesara's song buoyed them all, filling them with hope for victory.
The thing ran at her again, and she dodged to the side, letting its momentum bury her rapier deep inside it. The foolish bird staggered back, then came at the astonished Dru again, lashing out at her face and nearly knocking her to the bloody sand.
Di'Fier fell back, crimson running down his arm. He'd wounded the creature, but it had paid him back, and with interest. I wish I had some spells left... The beak snapped at him again, and he barely managed to interpose his sword, beginning a brief tug-of-war.
Something inside of him snapped. "I am not," he roared, "going to lose to a giant chicken!" Wrenching his blade free, he brought it around in a wide arc, severing the head and sending the body to run spasmodically down the beach.
He looked around - Dru was pulling her rapier free of another one that twitched on the beach, and the rest of the flock, deciding that discretion was indeed the better part of valor, had taken to the hills, leaving the group of battered survivors behind.
Dru wiped her blade on the feathers. "I bet you were all wondering where lunch was going to come from."
drnuncheon
Explorer
DM Notes
I'd like to thank Lazybones (if he still reads!) for reminding me of this classic module with his own Story Hour - although I've done a great deal of customization, the core of the adventure is still there.
For those of you that remember this classic from the Expert Set - they're still on the island, so please, no spoilers! They might not be things I've changed...
The slavers were actually "evil mirror universe" versions of characters from a different campaign, so a big thanks to Ted and Jared for letting me borrow them (and you too Mel, even though I didn't give you a choice) - and Scott, I'll see if we can't get 'Niemelus' in somewhere later. You may get a chance to see the real versions at some point in a different story hour (once dnOSH-OSM wraps up).
J
I'd like to thank Lazybones (if he still reads!) for reminding me of this classic module with his own Story Hour - although I've done a great deal of customization, the core of the adventure is still there.
For those of you that remember this classic from the Expert Set - they're still on the island, so please, no spoilers! They might not be things I've changed...
The slavers were actually "evil mirror universe" versions of characters from a different campaign, so a big thanks to Ted and Jared for letting me borrow them (and you too Mel, even though I didn't give you a choice) - and Scott, I'll see if we can't get 'Niemelus' in somewhere later. You may get a chance to see the real versions at some point in a different story hour (once dnOSH-OSM wraps up).
J
