Gospog
First Post
This is my first attempt at a Story Hour, so please give me some feedback here.
That being said, I cannot reccomend the Dying Earth RPG highly enough. I hope you have as much fun reading my story hour as I had running the game.
Thanks for reading.
____________________________________________________
Roots
A Tale of the Dying Earth
Dramatis Personae:
Turlo: Turlo used to be apprenticed to a Magician, before he realized that being an apprentice is hard work. Hard work is something Turlo tries very hard to avoid, so he decided to seek his fortune abroad in the dying earth.
Wisk: Wisk is a cut-throat of the lowest order. He would sell you his mother for five terces, and, if required, count you back your change in groats. Wisk was "unjustly" accused of some foul deed in Almery and has taken to the road to escape undeserved retribution.
Bork: Bork was a lumberjack, but tired of the physical demands of the job. He decided travel in the larger world outside the forest would only lead to a fatter purse and days of leisure. He has few possessions that have not yet been stolen from him and is becoming increasingly wary of big cities.
Babetta: Babetta is a dabbler in the arcane arts but has learned all she knows from ancient texts and the bifurcate carvings of the pillars of Nalb. She is traveling with the intent of increasing both her magical knowledge and her purse. So far, neither increases with notable rapidity.
Scene One: Durske
Rain drizzles down into muddy streets. The clouds look full enough to pour down rain, but like everyone else in the Dying Earth, they do not see the point in expending so much effort. A few ramshackle buildings lean against the wind; their windows are bored spectators, observing a scene of filth and squalor. Garbage is dumped into the streets, where gangs of unfortunate wretches fight for the spoils it may yield. Welcome to Burske.
Wisk casts a wary eye around the room as he enters the Starlight, the only inn in Burske. The bartender, a man of several decades and a unique odor, nods to him with a sour grimace. Wisk contemplates putting his health at risk by ordering a drink, but clutches his thin purse reflexively. He has but five terces, and a carriage ticket out of Burske costs six. He must not only avoid needless expense, but also find a way to increase his supply of terces, and soon. Like any sane man, Wisk wants very badly to be out of Burske.
Wisk spies a table in the corner. Three men are sitting down to gamble, and a fourth seat remains open. Being careful that his bootless feet do not tread on anything dangerous on the floor of the inn, he approaches the table.
WISK
“Gentlemen, my name is Wisk. I am from out of town, but I prevail upon your kindness, and the avarice of your purses, to allow me to join you for a game of chance or two.”
The men agree, their names are Phonoraj, Uthral and Buthander. Phonoraj produces an old pack of cards and proceeds to teach all assembled a game called Funeral Swirl. By an astounding turn of fate, Wisk walks away with the entire pot, a sum of 25 terces. Added to his five, he now has a fat purse of 30 terces. He leaves the inn.
Wisk feels exposed with so much wealth, standing on the only main road in town. He ducks down an alley, and pauses to take stock of his winnings and plan his best course of action. A familiar voice rings out.
“There he is!”
Buthander (who is quite large) and Uthral and approaching him from the other end of the alley. They each carry a wooden table leg in their hand. Wisk turns and takes to his heels, promptly falling flat on his face. The two thugs drag him from the ground, slamming him into a nearby wall.
“We know you cheated! Because we were cheating too, and you still beat us!”
The pair of losers are maddened with rage and sudden poverty. They raise their impromptu clubs high.
At that very moment, Bork Babetta and Turlo are traversing the alley. They are bickering because hesitation on Bork’s part caused them a share of the last pile of garbage to be flung out of a second story window. They have been trying to get out of Burske for three weeks and are completely destitute. Babetta sees Wisk, and the fix he is in, and her eyes light up with potential profit.
BABETTA
“Gentlemen! As a traveler from afar, ignorant of your customs, I thought it best to watch quietly a few moments, lest in error I commit a solecism. However, even in my native land, it seems rude to threaten the well-being of another man in such a way, and I assume he is to be robbed as well?”
The thugs turn as one and are clearly surprised to see three strangers addressing them. One of them a striking female (Babetta) and one of them quite large and holding an axe (Bork).
“My good lady, you have the details of the situation askew. My friend and I are taking nothing that does not already belong to us. Our good friend and confidante here was simply holding on to a certain sum for us until such a time as we saw fit to reclaim it. Such a time is upon us.”
BABETTA
“It would seem that as I have only helped to speed along the execution of your transaction, you should perhaps leave compensation of some kind, in consideration of my efforts?”
The thugs take a second look at the armed group of strangers and drop Wisk. “We humbly take your leave”.
The thugs place their clubs at Babetta’s feet, like an offering, and run for their lives out of the alley.
WISK
“That was timely intervention, I thank you.”
BABETTA
“Your thanks are well received. But, pardoning my boldness, I would receive more. Without doubt, we just saved your life. I would say that such an act puts you in my debt, if not that of the group. Coming to a quick calculation, I realize that you owe me the sum of six terces, enough for a carriage ticket out of town.”
WISK
“In all candor, I was just robbed by those men and am bereft of wealth.”
Babetta takes a close look at Wisk, but does not see the purse hidden under his robes. She does, however, notice his lack of shoes.
TURLO
“Where are you bound, stranger? We ourselves could think of no better course than one that leads out of Burske, but lack the funds to make such a wish a reality.”
WISK
“And you are..?”
BORK
“A dishonest mendicant! Such is a fair description of Turlo, who would blame me for our lack of wealth!”
TURLO
The concept is jejune. Good Wisk, my associates and I are well known at the carriage house. We have attempted to obtain transit for some three weeks now without success. We would be glad to lead you there.”
WISK
“I graciously accept your offer of guidance.”
TURLO
“That being the case, why allow us to lead you to the carriage house, if you are bereft of coin?”
WISK
“The question is shrouded in technicality. I advise we be off to the carriage house before those churls return with like-minded thugs, or more menacing implements of theft.”
BORK (to Wisk)
“Do you care to proceed me, or walk discreetly to the rear?”
Bork is carrying a large axe, and the entire group decide to walk discreetly to the rear of him. In a very short time, they are upon the carriage house. The rain has stopped, and a morbid wine-colored sun has broken through the clouds.
At the carriage house, they meet Smeadhe, a short, fat man with comically large mustaches and fur-covered pants. Smeadhe is crying loudly with his face turned to the sky. His carriage is gone, and he has no idea where.
“There are no tracks on the ground to indicate a departure. It is as if the sky itself has swallowed my carriage.”
In desperation, Smeadhe offers to take the PCs anywhere they like if they can return his carriage to him.
They agree.
Wisk examines the ground closely, noting gouges in the wet earth.
WISK
See here. The angle of these gouges indicates a departure by air, to the north. We shall set our course by such evidence.
TURLO
The direction none can contest, but there are no tracks to follow. Are you proposing the carriage flew out of here?”
WISK
“The question of locomotion becomes intriguing. Still, if we stand here and partake in verbal discourse, the sun may well go out before we know the truth of things. Barring further evidence, we head north."
The group reluctantly follows Wisk, who quickly prompts Bork to walk in the lead when the groups’ path takes them in to the woods north of Burske. Bork complies, and soon finds the spoor of a pelgrane, dropped form a great height. Wisk convinces Bork to lend him his axe, and pokes around the feces, looking for further clues. Finding nothing, he hands a non-plussed Bork his axe and the group continues north.
An hour’s walk later, they come upon the body of a horse. Something has eaten half of the horse, and recently. Disturbed, but resolute, they press on northward. Their progress brings them to yet another half-eaten horse, as well as a second pile of pelgrane offal. Bork is studying this second pile with intense interest, when he looks up and sees a singular sight. In a clearing in the woods, a tower composed of solid emerald rises into the dimming sky. Their northerly path would take them directly to the tower. Furtive growling can be heard from the top of the tower, which is out of sight.
Scene Two: The Emerald Manse
Wasting no time, the group approaches the tower. Wisk suggests forcing entry, but Babetta points out that this would be a breach of etiquette, and held in poor esteem by the master of this strange tower. Thus justified, she knocks on the large wooden door before them.
Someone, or something, immediately opens the door. His shape is that of a man, but several of his features are in odd places. Most glaring is an eye that rests a generous distance up his forehead. Hair is missing from his head in clumps, and his back bears a permanent stoop.
“Welcome to the emerald manse of Imandolo, please come in.”
Imandolo’s manse is impressive. Almost everything is made of emerald. Strange vials of powder hang from wire sconces set into the wall. Occasionally, one of these vials erupts into a spray of rainbow-colored dust. The servant who answered the door is Lob, whom Imandolo has grown in a vat of his own design.
Lob brings the PCs into a large reception area, where a man in a silk jacket of scintillating green greets them with a smile.
“Hello friends. Please come in. What brings you to the Emerald Manse of Imandolo? Am I the happy recipient of a casual visit, or should I steel my complex mind to the intricacies of business?”
TURLO
“Business”
Babetta
“Oh, magnanimous Imandolo, we come before you seeking employment.”
IMANDOLO
“I must be frank, I am not seeking to employ at this moment. But an issue has arisen that could benefit from the attention of worthies such as yourselves. Come, to the roof of my tower.”
On the roof of the tower, the PCs are immediately startled by the presence of a pelgrane! The pelgrane is standing next to a strange assortment of items. The stolen carriage is there, without horses, as well as a coffin, complete with dead body! Next to the coffin is a wicker basket full of mis-matched clothes. The basket has been poorly treated, and is in rough shape.
Imandolo will move quickly to calm PCs spooked by the Pelgrane. He will flourish a silver bracelet on his arm, and point to a silver collar around the neck of the Pelgrane.
IMANDOLO
“You see before you a Pelgrane, indeed. Seeing this magical bracelet and collar may lead you to believe that the beast is under my control. You would be correct in your beliefs, as this is indeed the case!”
“My Pelgrane has been absconding with items to appease me form some time now. Of course, he is slow of mind, and brings me the most paltry amusements. I have forbid him from taking humans back to me, or from slaying persons in sport while on my errands. I suspect this vexes him somewhat.”
At this, the Pelgrane hisses horribly at the sorcerer.
“I will feast on your entrails in a manner most time-consuming, wizard.”
BABETTA
“As fate would have it, we have taken more than a passing interest in your carriage. Tell us more of the issue that has arisen to vex the mighty Imandolo, and perhaps we can reach a compromise that will be mutually agreeable.”
IMANDOLO
“A cult dedicated to Yoreb the Jowled lives in the woods yonder. They are monotonous in their rituals and devotions, but not unbearable, even by virtue of their proximity to my tower. However, their very presence encourages a band of Deodands to roam the area, preying on the cultists with unapparelled ease. They are cunning enough to never kill all of the cultists, and let their numbers replenish before stalking them anew.”
“The predations of the Deodands makes travel for my colleagues and associates bothersome in this locale. The Deodands flee me whenever I set foot outside the tower. They evade constructs sent out to eradicate them. If the cult left the area, however, the Deodands would soon follow suit.”
“The cult convenes in these woods because of a certain ancient boboka tree. The tree is said to have grown gnarled and bent and resembles in no small manner Yoreb the Jowled himself. If this tree were to…disappear, the cultists would leave, the Deodands shortly after.”
“I cannot destroy the tree, my culpability would be unavoidable, and I have no desire for unescescary confrontation with the cultists. But if a third party, comprised of unknowns, were to eradicate the effigy of Yoreb, and flee the area…I could hardly be called to account for it.”
While Imandolo is talking, Wist sneaks over to the pile of odd clothes. He discreetly withdraws two mis-matched boots and hides them under his cloak.
Imandolo and Babetta have come to an agreement. When the PCs return from destroying the tree, the carriage will be waiting for them at the base of the tower. Wist, boots clutched tightly to his body, is the first to leave the roof.
Turlo garners some strange looks when he asks Imandolo for the corpse that is esting in the coffin. Imandolo gives him the dead body without argument, and Turlo drags it downstairs, following Wist.
The tree, it turns out, is a mere twenty minutes’ walk from the manse of Imandolo. The PCs set out immediately, Wist stopping only once outside the manse to put on his newly acquired footwear.
That being said, I cannot reccomend the Dying Earth RPG highly enough. I hope you have as much fun reading my story hour as I had running the game.
Thanks for reading.
____________________________________________________
Roots
A Tale of the Dying Earth
Dramatis Personae:
Turlo: Turlo used to be apprenticed to a Magician, before he realized that being an apprentice is hard work. Hard work is something Turlo tries very hard to avoid, so he decided to seek his fortune abroad in the dying earth.
Wisk: Wisk is a cut-throat of the lowest order. He would sell you his mother for five terces, and, if required, count you back your change in groats. Wisk was "unjustly" accused of some foul deed in Almery and has taken to the road to escape undeserved retribution.
Bork: Bork was a lumberjack, but tired of the physical demands of the job. He decided travel in the larger world outside the forest would only lead to a fatter purse and days of leisure. He has few possessions that have not yet been stolen from him and is becoming increasingly wary of big cities.
Babetta: Babetta is a dabbler in the arcane arts but has learned all she knows from ancient texts and the bifurcate carvings of the pillars of Nalb. She is traveling with the intent of increasing both her magical knowledge and her purse. So far, neither increases with notable rapidity.
Scene One: Durske
Rain drizzles down into muddy streets. The clouds look full enough to pour down rain, but like everyone else in the Dying Earth, they do not see the point in expending so much effort. A few ramshackle buildings lean against the wind; their windows are bored spectators, observing a scene of filth and squalor. Garbage is dumped into the streets, where gangs of unfortunate wretches fight for the spoils it may yield. Welcome to Burske.
Wisk casts a wary eye around the room as he enters the Starlight, the only inn in Burske. The bartender, a man of several decades and a unique odor, nods to him with a sour grimace. Wisk contemplates putting his health at risk by ordering a drink, but clutches his thin purse reflexively. He has but five terces, and a carriage ticket out of Burske costs six. He must not only avoid needless expense, but also find a way to increase his supply of terces, and soon. Like any sane man, Wisk wants very badly to be out of Burske.
Wisk spies a table in the corner. Three men are sitting down to gamble, and a fourth seat remains open. Being careful that his bootless feet do not tread on anything dangerous on the floor of the inn, he approaches the table.
WISK
“Gentlemen, my name is Wisk. I am from out of town, but I prevail upon your kindness, and the avarice of your purses, to allow me to join you for a game of chance or two.”
The men agree, their names are Phonoraj, Uthral and Buthander. Phonoraj produces an old pack of cards and proceeds to teach all assembled a game called Funeral Swirl. By an astounding turn of fate, Wisk walks away with the entire pot, a sum of 25 terces. Added to his five, he now has a fat purse of 30 terces. He leaves the inn.
Wisk feels exposed with so much wealth, standing on the only main road in town. He ducks down an alley, and pauses to take stock of his winnings and plan his best course of action. A familiar voice rings out.
“There he is!”
Buthander (who is quite large) and Uthral and approaching him from the other end of the alley. They each carry a wooden table leg in their hand. Wisk turns and takes to his heels, promptly falling flat on his face. The two thugs drag him from the ground, slamming him into a nearby wall.
“We know you cheated! Because we were cheating too, and you still beat us!”
The pair of losers are maddened with rage and sudden poverty. They raise their impromptu clubs high.
At that very moment, Bork Babetta and Turlo are traversing the alley. They are bickering because hesitation on Bork’s part caused them a share of the last pile of garbage to be flung out of a second story window. They have been trying to get out of Burske for three weeks and are completely destitute. Babetta sees Wisk, and the fix he is in, and her eyes light up with potential profit.
BABETTA
“Gentlemen! As a traveler from afar, ignorant of your customs, I thought it best to watch quietly a few moments, lest in error I commit a solecism. However, even in my native land, it seems rude to threaten the well-being of another man in such a way, and I assume he is to be robbed as well?”
The thugs turn as one and are clearly surprised to see three strangers addressing them. One of them a striking female (Babetta) and one of them quite large and holding an axe (Bork).
“My good lady, you have the details of the situation askew. My friend and I are taking nothing that does not already belong to us. Our good friend and confidante here was simply holding on to a certain sum for us until such a time as we saw fit to reclaim it. Such a time is upon us.”
BABETTA
“It would seem that as I have only helped to speed along the execution of your transaction, you should perhaps leave compensation of some kind, in consideration of my efforts?”
The thugs take a second look at the armed group of strangers and drop Wisk. “We humbly take your leave”.
The thugs place their clubs at Babetta’s feet, like an offering, and run for their lives out of the alley.
WISK
“That was timely intervention, I thank you.”
BABETTA
“Your thanks are well received. But, pardoning my boldness, I would receive more. Without doubt, we just saved your life. I would say that such an act puts you in my debt, if not that of the group. Coming to a quick calculation, I realize that you owe me the sum of six terces, enough for a carriage ticket out of town.”
WISK
“In all candor, I was just robbed by those men and am bereft of wealth.”
Babetta takes a close look at Wisk, but does not see the purse hidden under his robes. She does, however, notice his lack of shoes.
TURLO
“Where are you bound, stranger? We ourselves could think of no better course than one that leads out of Burske, but lack the funds to make such a wish a reality.”
WISK
“And you are..?”
BORK
“A dishonest mendicant! Such is a fair description of Turlo, who would blame me for our lack of wealth!”
TURLO
The concept is jejune. Good Wisk, my associates and I are well known at the carriage house. We have attempted to obtain transit for some three weeks now without success. We would be glad to lead you there.”
WISK
“I graciously accept your offer of guidance.”
TURLO
“That being the case, why allow us to lead you to the carriage house, if you are bereft of coin?”
WISK
“The question is shrouded in technicality. I advise we be off to the carriage house before those churls return with like-minded thugs, or more menacing implements of theft.”
BORK (to Wisk)
“Do you care to proceed me, or walk discreetly to the rear?”
Bork is carrying a large axe, and the entire group decide to walk discreetly to the rear of him. In a very short time, they are upon the carriage house. The rain has stopped, and a morbid wine-colored sun has broken through the clouds.
At the carriage house, they meet Smeadhe, a short, fat man with comically large mustaches and fur-covered pants. Smeadhe is crying loudly with his face turned to the sky. His carriage is gone, and he has no idea where.
“There are no tracks on the ground to indicate a departure. It is as if the sky itself has swallowed my carriage.”
In desperation, Smeadhe offers to take the PCs anywhere they like if they can return his carriage to him.
They agree.
Wisk examines the ground closely, noting gouges in the wet earth.
WISK
See here. The angle of these gouges indicates a departure by air, to the north. We shall set our course by such evidence.
TURLO
The direction none can contest, but there are no tracks to follow. Are you proposing the carriage flew out of here?”
WISK
“The question of locomotion becomes intriguing. Still, if we stand here and partake in verbal discourse, the sun may well go out before we know the truth of things. Barring further evidence, we head north."
The group reluctantly follows Wisk, who quickly prompts Bork to walk in the lead when the groups’ path takes them in to the woods north of Burske. Bork complies, and soon finds the spoor of a pelgrane, dropped form a great height. Wisk convinces Bork to lend him his axe, and pokes around the feces, looking for further clues. Finding nothing, he hands a non-plussed Bork his axe and the group continues north.
An hour’s walk later, they come upon the body of a horse. Something has eaten half of the horse, and recently. Disturbed, but resolute, they press on northward. Their progress brings them to yet another half-eaten horse, as well as a second pile of pelgrane offal. Bork is studying this second pile with intense interest, when he looks up and sees a singular sight. In a clearing in the woods, a tower composed of solid emerald rises into the dimming sky. Their northerly path would take them directly to the tower. Furtive growling can be heard from the top of the tower, which is out of sight.
Scene Two: The Emerald Manse
Wasting no time, the group approaches the tower. Wisk suggests forcing entry, but Babetta points out that this would be a breach of etiquette, and held in poor esteem by the master of this strange tower. Thus justified, she knocks on the large wooden door before them.
Someone, or something, immediately opens the door. His shape is that of a man, but several of his features are in odd places. Most glaring is an eye that rests a generous distance up his forehead. Hair is missing from his head in clumps, and his back bears a permanent stoop.
“Welcome to the emerald manse of Imandolo, please come in.”
Imandolo’s manse is impressive. Almost everything is made of emerald. Strange vials of powder hang from wire sconces set into the wall. Occasionally, one of these vials erupts into a spray of rainbow-colored dust. The servant who answered the door is Lob, whom Imandolo has grown in a vat of his own design.
Lob brings the PCs into a large reception area, where a man in a silk jacket of scintillating green greets them with a smile.
“Hello friends. Please come in. What brings you to the Emerald Manse of Imandolo? Am I the happy recipient of a casual visit, or should I steel my complex mind to the intricacies of business?”
TURLO
“Business”
Babetta
“Oh, magnanimous Imandolo, we come before you seeking employment.”
IMANDOLO
“I must be frank, I am not seeking to employ at this moment. But an issue has arisen that could benefit from the attention of worthies such as yourselves. Come, to the roof of my tower.”
On the roof of the tower, the PCs are immediately startled by the presence of a pelgrane! The pelgrane is standing next to a strange assortment of items. The stolen carriage is there, without horses, as well as a coffin, complete with dead body! Next to the coffin is a wicker basket full of mis-matched clothes. The basket has been poorly treated, and is in rough shape.
Imandolo will move quickly to calm PCs spooked by the Pelgrane. He will flourish a silver bracelet on his arm, and point to a silver collar around the neck of the Pelgrane.
IMANDOLO
“You see before you a Pelgrane, indeed. Seeing this magical bracelet and collar may lead you to believe that the beast is under my control. You would be correct in your beliefs, as this is indeed the case!”
“My Pelgrane has been absconding with items to appease me form some time now. Of course, he is slow of mind, and brings me the most paltry amusements. I have forbid him from taking humans back to me, or from slaying persons in sport while on my errands. I suspect this vexes him somewhat.”
At this, the Pelgrane hisses horribly at the sorcerer.
“I will feast on your entrails in a manner most time-consuming, wizard.”
BABETTA
“As fate would have it, we have taken more than a passing interest in your carriage. Tell us more of the issue that has arisen to vex the mighty Imandolo, and perhaps we can reach a compromise that will be mutually agreeable.”
IMANDOLO
“A cult dedicated to Yoreb the Jowled lives in the woods yonder. They are monotonous in their rituals and devotions, but not unbearable, even by virtue of their proximity to my tower. However, their very presence encourages a band of Deodands to roam the area, preying on the cultists with unapparelled ease. They are cunning enough to never kill all of the cultists, and let their numbers replenish before stalking them anew.”
“The predations of the Deodands makes travel for my colleagues and associates bothersome in this locale. The Deodands flee me whenever I set foot outside the tower. They evade constructs sent out to eradicate them. If the cult left the area, however, the Deodands would soon follow suit.”
“The cult convenes in these woods because of a certain ancient boboka tree. The tree is said to have grown gnarled and bent and resembles in no small manner Yoreb the Jowled himself. If this tree were to…disappear, the cultists would leave, the Deodands shortly after.”
“I cannot destroy the tree, my culpability would be unavoidable, and I have no desire for unescescary confrontation with the cultists. But if a third party, comprised of unknowns, were to eradicate the effigy of Yoreb, and flee the area…I could hardly be called to account for it.”
While Imandolo is talking, Wist sneaks over to the pile of odd clothes. He discreetly withdraws two mis-matched boots and hides them under his cloak.
Imandolo and Babetta have come to an agreement. When the PCs return from destroying the tree, the carriage will be waiting for them at the base of the tower. Wist, boots clutched tightly to his body, is the first to leave the roof.
Turlo garners some strange looks when he asks Imandolo for the corpse that is esting in the coffin. Imandolo gives him the dead body without argument, and Turlo drags it downstairs, following Wist.
The tree, it turns out, is a mere twenty minutes’ walk from the manse of Imandolo. The PCs set out immediately, Wist stopping only once outside the manse to put on his newly acquired footwear.
