ForceUser's Vietnamese Adventures Story Hour! (finis)
- Thread starter ForceUser
- Start date
Rune
Once A Fool
Wow. I just got around to reading this and I have to say, as far as I'm concerned, this story is tied with Black Omega's for best OA Story Hour out there (here)!
I'm impressed!
Also, I just want to say that you write excellent combats. Although I used a similar line about stirges in one of my own stories
Anyway, keep up the excellent work.
And please include some eunich sorcerors. They're really under-used.
P.S. Monkeys are funny.
I'm impressed!
Also, I just want to say that you write excellent combats. Although I used a similar line about stirges in one of my own stories
Anyway, keep up the excellent work.
And please include some eunich sorcerors. They're really under-used.
P.S. Monkeys are funny.
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Sammael99
First Post
Way to go !
I have only read parts of the first session, and I'm hooked already. Bravo, as we say in my part of the world...
I'm keeping the rest for later, since my two favourite story hours are on hiatus or slow-going right now. I do believe I have a third favourite now...
I have only read parts of the first session, and I'm hooked already. Bravo, as we say in my part of the world...
I'm keeping the rest for later, since my two favourite story hours are on hiatus or slow-going right now. I do believe I have a third favourite now...
Sammael99
First Post
ForceUser said:
Isn't that a great opportunity to pick up a new language ? After all, it's only one skill point next time you level up as a GM !
Incidentally, that is more or less how I picked up English. I only had rudiments when I discovered basic D&D in 83. Only the red box basic set existed at the time, so all from then on was in English. I had to make do with a dictionary and a lot of interpretation. I remember the faces of my successive English teachers when I'd use words like "crimson", "hauberk", etc.
ForceUser
Explorer
Session Three, Part Three
TERRIFIED, TRAN whirled his horse around to meet the simian army that closed upon the huddled group. His right hand gripped his ivory-handled kiem sweatily as he struggled to control his mount with his left. The horse surged against the reins, maddened with fear at the heady scent of blood. Struggling, Tran faced the path they had hacked through the jungle and goggled in disbelief.
Monkeys swarmed down from the trees like roaches. Little dark forms flickered through the high branches and across the low trunks to the muddy undergrowth. All around the adventurers, hundreds of cat-sized doucs and langurs converged, hurling feces and screeches with unheard-of fury. The sorcerer’s Hand protected themselves from the barrage of excrement as best they could, and Vinh strode across the path to make a stand against the closest group of primates. Woo stood opposite the horses from him, balancing on the balls of his feet, jiann in hand.
Hien stepped forward and cast a spell. Warm green energy splashed away from him like water, and he raised his voice and spoke to a nearby trio of agitated monkeys. “Little ones, what’s wrong?” he began.
“Hate hate HATE hateHATEHATEHATE!!!” they screeched at him shrilly. Taken aback, Hien stammered for a moment. “Die die DIE die dieDIIIIIEEE!!!” they continued. One stood erect and hurled waste at the shaman, hopped, and then charged. Like water from a breaking dam, the rest followed, shouting primal threats of death and pain in their monkey-tongue.
The horde hopped, ran, and leapt toward the party in twos and threes. Vinh slew two as they tried to dart past his guard, and Hien brained another with his club, taking a bite on his forearm in the process. A golden-and-black douc darted up Lei’s leg to snap at his thigh, and Tam pressed his back against the horses, fending the frenzied animals off with his staff. Mai whirled and gutted one mid-leap, then dashed forward and skewered a red-tailed langur through the spine, pinning it to the earth. It writhed on the end of her blade before dying. Hysterical, Tran closed his eyes and slashed his longsword wildly, managing to sever the legs of a black-and-gray douc that had leapt for him. On his side of the fight, Woo calmly decapitated one, two, three monkeys. His jiann sang as it whistled through the air.
In a crazed tide of fur and fangs, the monkey horde pressed on, scoring more bites on Hien and Tran. Enough! though Tam. Stepping aside to let a brown langur savage his horse’s flank, he raised his arms and began to chant. He pointed at a particularly thick group of primates charging at the party, and a skull-sized ball of sickly green fire coalesced among them, pulsing like a dying heart.
The monkeys twisted as though set aflame, then fled back into the trees, howling with dismay. Tam concentrated, and the ghost light swooped across the battlefield, scattering monkeys like leaves in the wind. By the third pass, none remained close enough to threaten the adventurers. Despite that, the animals seethed beyond the edge of the spell’s range, alternately charging and retreating, charging and retreating. The noise of their frustrated calls continued, but thankfully lessened at this distance.
Breathing through his mouth, Woo asked Tam, “How long can you keep that up?”
“As long as is needed,” the wu jen replied. He dipped the ghost light low, then soared the figment high, encircling the group within a protective patrol. The others could not look at it directly for more than a moment; when they did so, the gruesome, incorporeal heart caused them to quail involuntarily. Who is this man, to command a nightmare? thought Woo. For his part, Tam’s eyes never left his macabre illusion.
On his horse, Tran leaned over and vomited.
“We go on,” declared Lei. He grabbed his machete and returned to the task of clearing the way ahead. Tam walked behind slowly, concentrating on maintaining his spell. The others, cloaked in grim expressions, focused on watching the monkey army that flanked them. From the trees, the monkeys kept pace with the group and watched back, spitting and howling in hatred.
The day crept on into dusk, dusk gave way to dark, and still the strange procession continued through the gloomy jungle, soon lit only by a lonely, spiraling green light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The adventurers broke through the tree line as dawn’s light burst across the horizon. They had spent the night slowly carving their way out of an unfamiliar jungle, hounded by evil monkeys, and fighting off skirmishes that stole past the wizard’s barrier of terror. Some time after the moon had set, however, the monkeys had abruptly and inexplicably dispersed. Not trusting this respite, then party had moved on, and Tam had maintained his vigil. Now exhausted, they gazed across the hard-won valley before them, squinting in the dazzle captured in the morning dew.
Phau Dong valley curved like a deep bowl and appeared to be dotted with small shrubs and copses of stunted trees. From southwest to northeast ran a glittering mountain stream that wound its way within a mile of the jungle’s edge. The trail they had followed all this while, more easily seen in the grasses beyond the forest, bisected the stream at this near point and connected to a sturdy wooden bridge. Beyond the bridge lay a sleepy thorp, nothing more than a collection of six oblong huts. Cook-fires billowed from four of them. Among the huts, the party could discern villagers walking about, and a large pen directly east of the community sat packed with livestock. Consulting their map, they determined that the thorp had to be Kim Phe, the nearer of the two villages depicted in the drawing. Cautiously, they began to plod down the path.
Dying summer flowers welcomed them with fragrant pollens and thorny stems as they wended their way toward the bridge. Storm clouds drifted across half the sky, sending gentle mountain breezes that smelled of rain. Fiery skies shone through the clouds, promising a brilliant day, but the early sun still cast long shadows across the valley.
As they approached the structure, Vinh spied figures waiting for them midway across. Four men, one of who carried a strung bow and a quiver of arrows. One of the men waved as they continued, and Vinh waved back. The other group waited patiently as the party closed, and newcomers and natives sized each other up. The man with the bow was by far the youngest; he appeared fit and strong as any of the sorcerer’s minions, and wore tanned leathers over cotton clothes. His face was young and broad, his head shaved in the common way young men wear their hair, and stuffed in his belt was a long, cruel dagger. Instead of sandals, he wore closed-toe boots. Beside him stood a shorter, middle-aged man wearing a simple peasant smock and carrying a carved staff with the head of a ram. He and the younger man looked similar enough that the party could conclude they were immediate family. The other two men were elderly, with balding head and wispy white beards. They squinted at the group sullenly.
The middle-aged man, obviously the leader, smiled cautiously and spoke. “Welcome to Kim Phe. I am Trinh Xang Duc, and this is my son Trinh Huu Lap, and the elders Lanh So Hong and Lanh Li Quan. We are gladdened that more have won through the jungle. You have the look of fighters. Are you from Te Han?”
“Yes,” replied Woo, “We have come to investigate the disappearance of a tax collector called Nat Hung.”
The elders looked at one another. “He is here with us,” said Duc, “unfortunately, his experience in the jungle has driven him mad.” The party looked relieved then frustrated.
“He rode here with the taxes of several other villages outside the valley,” said Lei, “Is that money here?”
“No, he arrived with nothing. My son found him on the south slope, and through the raving he discerned that Hung’s horse fled into the jungle while he escaped the monkey-spirits that attacked him.” The younger man, Lap, nodded.
“Of course,” replied Lei, sardonically.
Woo asked, “What do you know of these monkey spirits?”
The elders warded themselves with the sign of the evil eye. Duc sighed and faced Woo. “They are slaves to the will of their mistress, and she hates all life but that she controls. Her name is unknown to us, though we do know that she once lived in Phet Lo with a husband. She is a formidable spirit-talker, twisted by communion with terrible powers, and we all live under her curse. The curse of the Monkey Woman.”
“Great,” said Vinh.
TERRIFIED, TRAN whirled his horse around to meet the simian army that closed upon the huddled group. His right hand gripped his ivory-handled kiem sweatily as he struggled to control his mount with his left. The horse surged against the reins, maddened with fear at the heady scent of blood. Struggling, Tran faced the path they had hacked through the jungle and goggled in disbelief.
Monkeys swarmed down from the trees like roaches. Little dark forms flickered through the high branches and across the low trunks to the muddy undergrowth. All around the adventurers, hundreds of cat-sized doucs and langurs converged, hurling feces and screeches with unheard-of fury. The sorcerer’s Hand protected themselves from the barrage of excrement as best they could, and Vinh strode across the path to make a stand against the closest group of primates. Woo stood opposite the horses from him, balancing on the balls of his feet, jiann in hand.
Hien stepped forward and cast a spell. Warm green energy splashed away from him like water, and he raised his voice and spoke to a nearby trio of agitated monkeys. “Little ones, what’s wrong?” he began.
“Hate hate HATE hateHATEHATEHATE!!!” they screeched at him shrilly. Taken aback, Hien stammered for a moment. “Die die DIE die dieDIIIIIEEE!!!” they continued. One stood erect and hurled waste at the shaman, hopped, and then charged. Like water from a breaking dam, the rest followed, shouting primal threats of death and pain in their monkey-tongue.
The horde hopped, ran, and leapt toward the party in twos and threes. Vinh slew two as they tried to dart past his guard, and Hien brained another with his club, taking a bite on his forearm in the process. A golden-and-black douc darted up Lei’s leg to snap at his thigh, and Tam pressed his back against the horses, fending the frenzied animals off with his staff. Mai whirled and gutted one mid-leap, then dashed forward and skewered a red-tailed langur through the spine, pinning it to the earth. It writhed on the end of her blade before dying. Hysterical, Tran closed his eyes and slashed his longsword wildly, managing to sever the legs of a black-and-gray douc that had leapt for him. On his side of the fight, Woo calmly decapitated one, two, three monkeys. His jiann sang as it whistled through the air.
In a crazed tide of fur and fangs, the monkey horde pressed on, scoring more bites on Hien and Tran. Enough! though Tam. Stepping aside to let a brown langur savage his horse’s flank, he raised his arms and began to chant. He pointed at a particularly thick group of primates charging at the party, and a skull-sized ball of sickly green fire coalesced among them, pulsing like a dying heart.
The monkeys twisted as though set aflame, then fled back into the trees, howling with dismay. Tam concentrated, and the ghost light swooped across the battlefield, scattering monkeys like leaves in the wind. By the third pass, none remained close enough to threaten the adventurers. Despite that, the animals seethed beyond the edge of the spell’s range, alternately charging and retreating, charging and retreating. The noise of their frustrated calls continued, but thankfully lessened at this distance.
Breathing through his mouth, Woo asked Tam, “How long can you keep that up?”
“As long as is needed,” the wu jen replied. He dipped the ghost light low, then soared the figment high, encircling the group within a protective patrol. The others could not look at it directly for more than a moment; when they did so, the gruesome, incorporeal heart caused them to quail involuntarily. Who is this man, to command a nightmare? thought Woo. For his part, Tam’s eyes never left his macabre illusion.
On his horse, Tran leaned over and vomited.
“We go on,” declared Lei. He grabbed his machete and returned to the task of clearing the way ahead. Tam walked behind slowly, concentrating on maintaining his spell. The others, cloaked in grim expressions, focused on watching the monkey army that flanked them. From the trees, the monkeys kept pace with the group and watched back, spitting and howling in hatred.
The day crept on into dusk, dusk gave way to dark, and still the strange procession continued through the gloomy jungle, soon lit only by a lonely, spiraling green light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The adventurers broke through the tree line as dawn’s light burst across the horizon. They had spent the night slowly carving their way out of an unfamiliar jungle, hounded by evil monkeys, and fighting off skirmishes that stole past the wizard’s barrier of terror. Some time after the moon had set, however, the monkeys had abruptly and inexplicably dispersed. Not trusting this respite, then party had moved on, and Tam had maintained his vigil. Now exhausted, they gazed across the hard-won valley before them, squinting in the dazzle captured in the morning dew.
Phau Dong valley curved like a deep bowl and appeared to be dotted with small shrubs and copses of stunted trees. From southwest to northeast ran a glittering mountain stream that wound its way within a mile of the jungle’s edge. The trail they had followed all this while, more easily seen in the grasses beyond the forest, bisected the stream at this near point and connected to a sturdy wooden bridge. Beyond the bridge lay a sleepy thorp, nothing more than a collection of six oblong huts. Cook-fires billowed from four of them. Among the huts, the party could discern villagers walking about, and a large pen directly east of the community sat packed with livestock. Consulting their map, they determined that the thorp had to be Kim Phe, the nearer of the two villages depicted in the drawing. Cautiously, they began to plod down the path.
Dying summer flowers welcomed them with fragrant pollens and thorny stems as they wended their way toward the bridge. Storm clouds drifted across half the sky, sending gentle mountain breezes that smelled of rain. Fiery skies shone through the clouds, promising a brilliant day, but the early sun still cast long shadows across the valley.
As they approached the structure, Vinh spied figures waiting for them midway across. Four men, one of who carried a strung bow and a quiver of arrows. One of the men waved as they continued, and Vinh waved back. The other group waited patiently as the party closed, and newcomers and natives sized each other up. The man with the bow was by far the youngest; he appeared fit and strong as any of the sorcerer’s minions, and wore tanned leathers over cotton clothes. His face was young and broad, his head shaved in the common way young men wear their hair, and stuffed in his belt was a long, cruel dagger. Instead of sandals, he wore closed-toe boots. Beside him stood a shorter, middle-aged man wearing a simple peasant smock and carrying a carved staff with the head of a ram. He and the younger man looked similar enough that the party could conclude they were immediate family. The other two men were elderly, with balding head and wispy white beards. They squinted at the group sullenly.
The middle-aged man, obviously the leader, smiled cautiously and spoke. “Welcome to Kim Phe. I am Trinh Xang Duc, and this is my son Trinh Huu Lap, and the elders Lanh So Hong and Lanh Li Quan. We are gladdened that more have won through the jungle. You have the look of fighters. Are you from Te Han?”
“Yes,” replied Woo, “We have come to investigate the disappearance of a tax collector called Nat Hung.”
The elders looked at one another. “He is here with us,” said Duc, “unfortunately, his experience in the jungle has driven him mad.” The party looked relieved then frustrated.
“He rode here with the taxes of several other villages outside the valley,” said Lei, “Is that money here?”
“No, he arrived with nothing. My son found him on the south slope, and through the raving he discerned that Hung’s horse fled into the jungle while he escaped the monkey-spirits that attacked him.” The younger man, Lap, nodded.
“Of course,” replied Lei, sardonically.
Woo asked, “What do you know of these monkey spirits?”
The elders warded themselves with the sign of the evil eye. Duc sighed and faced Woo. “They are slaves to the will of their mistress, and she hates all life but that she controls. Her name is unknown to us, though we do know that she once lived in Phet Lo with a husband. She is a formidable spirit-talker, twisted by communion with terrible powers, and we all live under her curse. The curse of the Monkey Woman.”
“Great,” said Vinh.
Woo hoo! The curse of the Monkey Woman. Forceuser, this is the best story hour in the forum. The characterization is consistent both with the culture and the story. And the story is great. I'll be stealing your "fix up the inn for the emporer/king" hook for my campaign. Thanks for a great story so far!
Ragboy
Ragboy
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