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Heroes of Spittlemarch
- Thread starter Radiating Gnome
- Start date
Radiating Gnome
Adventurer
Rune said:
It's coming, it's coming.
-rg
Radiating Gnome
Adventurer
We're the Goonies!
We’re the Goonies
It didn’t take long – there was still dank, acrid smoke from the burned Ogre Mage in the air, when the Baron started trying to convince the party to leave town. He made it clear that he was in an awkward place – he arranged a quick feast in their honor, which was a meager celebration at best, and was pointedly not attended by the Baron’s family. Apparently the Baroness, broken jaw and all, was refusing to be in the presence of the party, especially “that homicidal dwarf”, and insisted that the Baron execute the party. The baron just thanked the party for saving his city, then asked them to leave and never return. And he hoped they would understand.
Pah kept asking for a bath. "I feel dirty."
Uri smirked. "That kind of dirty don't wash off."
Pah glowered at Uri.
While eating in the uncomfortable quiet of the feast, the party had a small delivery – a messenger arrived with a note from Solen, who begged that they wrap things up and make their way to Dyvers as soon as possible. He had tracked down those who had stolen the pistols and things had become complicated. He needed them there right away.
So they set out, and made their way without incident to Dyvers, this time passing through the city gates without incident. Finding the inn where Solen had indicated he could be found, they waited until he returned at the end of the day. He was pleased to see them. But he quickly got down to business.
The situation was complicated. It turned out that the two men who had stolen Pah’s old pistols from her room were in the employ of the Magister of Dyvers herself, and had delivered the weapons to her before Solen could catch up with them. She was preparing to deliver the powder and weapons to her court alchemist, who would try to reverse-engineer them, when Solen arrived and tried to recover the items. He explained that he had never intended for his gunpowder to fall into the hands of a kingdom – any kingdom – and shift the balance of power in the lands.
The Magister was not about to return the powder to Solen, but did see the value in having it’s creator on hand to make the powder for her. After days and nights of negotiation and debate, Solen and the Magister hammered out an agreement. Solen would oversee the creation of a unit of 20 soldiers who would be trained to use Solen’s black powder weapons. The would be provided with special uniforms, be attached to the Dyvers Free Army, and be called the Dyvers Dragoons.
Solen described a very complex political situation – the Magister’s council of advisors was in turmoil, and the Dragon Cult was growing in power and influence, even though Sear’s resources were no longer at their disposal. The high priest of the Dragon Cult in Dyvers now held a position on the council. Solen saw this as a dubious sign. The heroes agreed.
Solen, stalling desperately as the members of the elite unit were selected from the DFA, managed to hold back four positions for the Heroes of Spittlemarch. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could have held onto those positions, so he was glad to have the party arrive when they did.
The group was not exactly thrilled.
“I don’t want to wear anything with a dragon on it,” said Pah. (the tabards that made up the Dragoon’s uniforms were purple with a dragon head silhouette).
“We’re called the what?” asked Uri.
“The Dyvers Dragoons.”
Pah had a sudden flash. “We’re the goonies!” No one shared her excitement.
Without much further discussion, Solen gathered his things and led the group to the barracks that had been appropriated for the Dragoons. On the way he explained the basics of the unit. There were sixteen others in the unit, led by a Captain Nikolai and Lieutenant Alexi. The two officers had been training already and were overseeing the training of the rest of the men. There was a group of four practicing shooting and loading as the party entered the compound.
Solen introduced the party to Nikolai, the captain of the Dragoons, who was training the other soldiers. Nikolai was clearly not impressed with the group, and made it clear that he was not happy that these four . . . irregulars . . . were occupying a position in the Dragoons that could have been use by proper soldiers.
Solen showed the heroes to their part of the barracks, and let them get settled in for a few minutes. Pah spent her time trying to accessorize her uniform tabard – a knot here, a tuck here, a bit of jewelry there – anything to make it look a bit prettied. She did her best, but was still frustrated with the uniform. The others shuffled around a bit, while Minimonk complained about not being a member of the dragoons (no space had been held for him, he Solen did not know Uri had picked up a follower).
Solen organized a big dinner to welcome the heroes into the dragoons and let everyone get to know each other. It was a stiff affair, something that made Irk very uncomfortable, and the Captain’s distain finally got to him. Before long the two were squaring off in the training ground for a fistfight.
It was a pretty brutal slugfest, but the dwarf’s stony build saw him through, an eventually Nikolai was stretched out on the ground. Some of the men, excited to have the heroes of Spittlemarch in their unit cheered a little, but most were uncomfortable with the whole situation.
The executive officer, Lieutenant Alexei, pulled the heroes aside and had a talk with them in the kitchen over a few beers. They had a long talk, and figured out a few things: Things would be a little rocky with the Captain, after having beat him up in front of the men; Alexei was a devotee of the Dragon Cult, as were unnamed members of the unit but not Nikolai, and that while the heroes played their cards close to their chests, they might have more to worry about from Alexei than from Nikolai. Alexei was of the opinion that the gunpowder should be used more widely.
After a few too many with Alexei, the group shuffled to their bunks and sacked out.
Next time: And now for something a bit unusual
We’re the Goonies
It didn’t take long – there was still dank, acrid smoke from the burned Ogre Mage in the air, when the Baron started trying to convince the party to leave town. He made it clear that he was in an awkward place – he arranged a quick feast in their honor, which was a meager celebration at best, and was pointedly not attended by the Baron’s family. Apparently the Baroness, broken jaw and all, was refusing to be in the presence of the party, especially “that homicidal dwarf”, and insisted that the Baron execute the party. The baron just thanked the party for saving his city, then asked them to leave and never return. And he hoped they would understand.
Pah kept asking for a bath. "I feel dirty."
Uri smirked. "That kind of dirty don't wash off."
Pah glowered at Uri.
While eating in the uncomfortable quiet of the feast, the party had a small delivery – a messenger arrived with a note from Solen, who begged that they wrap things up and make their way to Dyvers as soon as possible. He had tracked down those who had stolen the pistols and things had become complicated. He needed them there right away.
So they set out, and made their way without incident to Dyvers, this time passing through the city gates without incident. Finding the inn where Solen had indicated he could be found, they waited until he returned at the end of the day. He was pleased to see them. But he quickly got down to business.
The situation was complicated. It turned out that the two men who had stolen Pah’s old pistols from her room were in the employ of the Magister of Dyvers herself, and had delivered the weapons to her before Solen could catch up with them. She was preparing to deliver the powder and weapons to her court alchemist, who would try to reverse-engineer them, when Solen arrived and tried to recover the items. He explained that he had never intended for his gunpowder to fall into the hands of a kingdom – any kingdom – and shift the balance of power in the lands.
The Magister was not about to return the powder to Solen, but did see the value in having it’s creator on hand to make the powder for her. After days and nights of negotiation and debate, Solen and the Magister hammered out an agreement. Solen would oversee the creation of a unit of 20 soldiers who would be trained to use Solen’s black powder weapons. The would be provided with special uniforms, be attached to the Dyvers Free Army, and be called the Dyvers Dragoons.
Solen described a very complex political situation – the Magister’s council of advisors was in turmoil, and the Dragon Cult was growing in power and influence, even though Sear’s resources were no longer at their disposal. The high priest of the Dragon Cult in Dyvers now held a position on the council. Solen saw this as a dubious sign. The heroes agreed.
Solen, stalling desperately as the members of the elite unit were selected from the DFA, managed to hold back four positions for the Heroes of Spittlemarch. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could have held onto those positions, so he was glad to have the party arrive when they did.
The group was not exactly thrilled.
“I don’t want to wear anything with a dragon on it,” said Pah. (the tabards that made up the Dragoon’s uniforms were purple with a dragon head silhouette).
“We’re called the what?” asked Uri.
“The Dyvers Dragoons.”
Pah had a sudden flash. “We’re the goonies!” No one shared her excitement.
Without much further discussion, Solen gathered his things and led the group to the barracks that had been appropriated for the Dragoons. On the way he explained the basics of the unit. There were sixteen others in the unit, led by a Captain Nikolai and Lieutenant Alexi. The two officers had been training already and were overseeing the training of the rest of the men. There was a group of four practicing shooting and loading as the party entered the compound.
Solen introduced the party to Nikolai, the captain of the Dragoons, who was training the other soldiers. Nikolai was clearly not impressed with the group, and made it clear that he was not happy that these four . . . irregulars . . . were occupying a position in the Dragoons that could have been use by proper soldiers.
Solen showed the heroes to their part of the barracks, and let them get settled in for a few minutes. Pah spent her time trying to accessorize her uniform tabard – a knot here, a tuck here, a bit of jewelry there – anything to make it look a bit prettied. She did her best, but was still frustrated with the uniform. The others shuffled around a bit, while Minimonk complained about not being a member of the dragoons (no space had been held for him, he Solen did not know Uri had picked up a follower).
Solen organized a big dinner to welcome the heroes into the dragoons and let everyone get to know each other. It was a stiff affair, something that made Irk very uncomfortable, and the Captain’s distain finally got to him. Before long the two were squaring off in the training ground for a fistfight.
It was a pretty brutal slugfest, but the dwarf’s stony build saw him through, an eventually Nikolai was stretched out on the ground. Some of the men, excited to have the heroes of Spittlemarch in their unit cheered a little, but most were uncomfortable with the whole situation.
The executive officer, Lieutenant Alexei, pulled the heroes aside and had a talk with them in the kitchen over a few beers. They had a long talk, and figured out a few things: Things would be a little rocky with the Captain, after having beat him up in front of the men; Alexei was a devotee of the Dragon Cult, as were unnamed members of the unit but not Nikolai, and that while the heroes played their cards close to their chests, they might have more to worry about from Alexei than from Nikolai. Alexei was of the opinion that the gunpowder should be used more widely.
After a few too many with Alexei, the group shuffled to their bunks and sacked out.
Next time: And now for something a bit unusual
Pop culture references from contemporary TV to 80's child-star comedies, jewel-bedecked military uniforms, having a smack-down with your commanding officer, and a pocketful of Nazi war secrets, and now we're in for something a little unusual? 
Monty Python would be proud.
jason
Monty Python would be proud.
jason
Radiating Gnome
Adventurer
Something unusual
Yeah, things do get a little unconventional, and it's going to get worse.
What I meant by unusual this time around is that for the next couple of game sessions I'm not going to be the DM. Eli's player wanted to try DMing a session, which (as you'll see when I post it) is going to stretch out into two sessions.
For those two sessions I'll be playing a PC, and narrating from his point of view. Then, perhaps, I'll take that PC and make him the NPC narrator of these heroes, or something like that. I don't know. I still have a few weeks to decide what I'll do with that.
-rg
Yeah, things do get a little unconventional, and it's going to get worse.
What I meant by unusual this time around is that for the next couple of game sessions I'm not going to be the DM. Eli's player wanted to try DMing a session, which (as you'll see when I post it) is going to stretch out into two sessions.
For those two sessions I'll be playing a PC, and narrating from his point of view. Then, perhaps, I'll take that PC and make him the NPC narrator of these heroes, or something like that. I don't know. I still have a few weeks to decide what I'll do with that.
-rg
Radiating Gnome
Adventurer
A shift in narrative style
(Eli’s player asked to take over and run an adventure for the Heroes of Spittlemarch game. I created a character who will take over the narration from his point of view. Eli is off training with his mentors in the Order of the Shooting Star, and is not available for this adventure.)
My name is Pavel. I’m a itinerant brother in the service of Ehlonna, and I am currently attached to the newest elite military unit in Dyvers, the Dyvers Dragoons. We’re a small company, just 20 soldiers and then some support personnel.
I was excited to join the Dragoons – such an elite unit, selected from all the free armies, you know the slots in this unit were prized highly, even if some don’t trust the gnome’s invention as a weapon. So far it seems to be quite powerful.
The Dragoons are a hardy bunch – at least, the 16 of us who are regular army. Solen, the gnome, insisted loudly for weeks that we had to hold four positions in the unit for the original four who inspired the unit – the ones that awful tavern song was about, the ‘heroes’ of Spittlemarch. Some heroes.
Captain Nikolai is a good man – gruff, certainly, and hard on the men. He’s burning through the powder like mad, training the men to shoot and reload, shoot and reload. I can’t seem to wash away the acrid smell of the powder – it clings to my hair and clothes. My ears are ringing, too. The guns a quite loud, but I suspect that the noise is part of their power – it would be very intimidating to be faced with the full unit of dragoons firing at will.
Then Solen brought in his friends. And the trouble started. There were actually five of them, although Solen was not aware, apparently, that a young halfling monk had started tagging along with the group. That one, called Minimonk, is now one of the camp followers.
The toughest, and most apparently useful of the Spittlemarch crowd is Irk, the dwarf. He did something I’ve never seen done before – picked a fight with Nikolai and won. That’s going to make things interesting. I don’t know how the Captain will respond to the challenge to his command.
Then there’s the Elf – a good shot with a bow, and pretty light on his feet, but quiet. He’s gone off on his own again – training, meditating, something like that.
The only one of the four to actually use firearms is Pah, a halfling scout. She has a pair of small pistols that Solen made special for her, and she’s very good with them. She’s the one they call the Thunderer, and she doesn’t let anyone forget that there are songs written about her. I hope she’s as good in a fight as she’d have us believe.
The group’s spellslinger is another halfling, one named Uri. His cohort Minimonk never leaves his side, and seems to be there mostly to laugh at all of Uri’s jokes. I don’t know how this motley crew pulled off some of the things they’ve done – especially without a cleric around.
The group may be effective in their own way, but it looks like there’s going to be trouble – they’re too much free spirits, too irregular for Nikolai’s kind of army. Nikolai’s second in command, a cretin named Alexei, has been very chummy with the group since Irk pounded the snot out of Nikolai, which doesn’t bode well, either. Perhaps he things that’s the road to command. But that would be bad news. I fear.
You see, Alexei has been seen around with some of the local Dragonpriests. I don’t know how involved he is, but I don’t like those scaly bastards one bit, and if he’s getting into bed with them, I’d hate to see him in command of the Dragoons. But the amazing thing is that Alexei is so chummy with the heroes, too – and not afraid to talk about the dragon faith with them. Can it really be that he hasn’t heard the stories about these four, about what they did to Eldgrim, how they thwarted the plans of the great wyrm Sear, about how they killed that SOB Anathe? Either he’s not too bright, or he’s up to something.
Anyway, I decided to get to know the heroes a bit better. After all, I’m not exactly a regular myself. We were sitting around a tavern having a quiet drink, talking about some of the specifics of their adventuring style. I found that conversations with the troupe went something like this.
Uri: I’m funny.
Minimonk: Heh heh, yeah, you’re funny.
Pah: You know, I’m a legend. There’s a song about me and everything.
Irk: (drinks)
Eli: (appears to meditate in the corner)
Uri: I mean it. Really damn funny.
Pah: You’re only funny ‘cause I set you up.
Uri: Think what you like, honey.
Minimonk: he he he
Irk: (drinks)
Eli: (peeks with one eye to guide his hand as he takes a sip of white wine, then returns to meditating).
Uri: I’m funnier than you.
Pah: (looks at him with an arched eyebrow)
Uri: Really.
Minimonk: Really.
Irk: (drinks)
Eli: (nibbles at a bit of dried fruit)
Uri: Are you saying you don’t think I’m funny? Because I am.
And on like that. I’m sure there’s something I’m not seeing here. They are not what I expected of the heroes of Spittlemarch.
So, anyway, one night I was sitting around having a quiet drink with the dwarf and the three halflings – Eli was off doing some secret elf training thing – and things got interesting. It started with a dwarf named Warf, who rolled a whole keg over to our table and wanted us to drink with him. Even those of us who were trying to drink sparingly at most wound up getting drunk – perhaps the beer was laced with something, I don’t know. Anyway, we work up chained in a drunk tank. Mind you, I’ve served with the Dyvers Free army for most of my adult life, this was not my first time in a drunk tank, but I thought I had left those years behind long ago.
The cell stank of hops, as we lot of chained slobs sweat out the beer from the night before. It struck me odd that they’d locked Pah, a young female halfling, in the cell with the men. Perhaps they hadn’t noticed she was female (although, the cuts and adjustments she’s made to her uniform tabard to reveal and emphasize her cleavage should have been a dead giveaway.)
At any rate, while we were waking up and trying to get our bearings, a dark-clad rogue snuck into the jail and subdued the guards. Apparently there was going to be some sort of jail break – and one that seemed supremely ill-informed. After all, we had been informed by the guards that we would be released at noon, so there was precious little reason to risk becoming bigger criminals by trying to escape, or allowing someone else to try to break us out. But the rogueish fellow insisted that we had to get out now, that he had come to rescue the drunken dwarf named Worf, and would take us too, all back to his ship so we could escape.
Well, I can say quite proudly, that none of us were having any. We weren’t getting on any ships, we weren’t going to be busted out of jail, and it seemed like the biggest danger we, as members in good standing of one of the most elite military units in the city would come from trying to escape with this little nutter. So we said no. And as we were chained to the dwarf, that made taking the dwarf out that much harder.
The breakout artist got jumpy. He started to babble something about not having time for this, needing to get away before THEY got here, and that sort of stuff. At the time, it seemed pretty convenient, and we sat right there, even after he insisted on picking the lock to our cell and opening the door.
The debate went on a bit, and things started to get a little hairy. Pah was trying to pick the locks on our chains so we could get a little more mobility if things got interesting. Irk and Uri were arguing with the rogue, playing tug of war with him and his two henchmen over Worf. Irk finally got fed up with debate and started throwing punches. Then the back wall of the jail blew up.
Just exploded, rocks and plaster blown all over the place, and a great big hole where there had been a wall before. The Rogue ran. Worf finally woke up, and found himself free of the chains (thanks to the breakout artist).
I turned to face the hole in the wall, and found that we were being attacked from that side, too, this time by a half-dozen huge Hippo-headed humanoids with some sortof axe-gun thing and very dim looks in their eyes. I turned to face them, to cover the other two halflings, and told them to run.
I had recovered my weapons and holy symbol, and felt ready to face just about anything. I had a moment to get a few spells cast, most importantly a fire shield, and then I drew Thorn, my longsword, and stepped up to meet the Hippomen. Fire shield flickering around me, I called out to the Hippos. “By the power vested in me by the City of Dyvers, I command you to stand down.”
My cellmates were clearly impressed.
Pah jerked a finger in my direction. “Lookit him.”
Irk said, “He’s sparkly.”
Uri said, “I’m really gonna hate to see that guy die.”
Then everyone jumped into action.
Worf took off running, and Irk and Pah were right behind him.
While Irk and Pah managed to chase down Worf, arguing with him along the way and finally convincing him that the best way to prove that he was really on our side was to come back and help fight the Hippomen, I stood my ground in the midst of a terrifying hail of blows. I was protected by the fire shield, so every time they landed a blow they suffered terrible burns from being so close. I was forced to focus on continuing to call on the powers of Ehlonna to heal me of those wounds each round, so I was only able to take a few swings with Thorn, but the it was enough that the Hippomen were dimwitted enough to continue to break themselves against my fire shield, eventually killing themselves in a desperate attempt to kill me. I killed 4 that way. The other two gave up on me and raced past me to try to take the two halflings, but they ran out into the street, where they met the other three – Irk, Pah, and Worf, returning to help, finally. I came up behind the pursuing Hippomen, in time to help the group finish the last two in short order and try to get our bearings.
We were regrouping – checking out the Hippoman bodies and trying to get a sense of what we were up against. None of us were very satisfied with the answers we were getting from Worf, who kept babbling something about getting to a ship and getting out of there before more of them (he called them Grifs, I think) turned up. He seemed to think they were more than we could handle. And perhaps he was right, but running off into the unknown rather than running back to our barracks and the cover provided by the rest of our unit seemed like a terrible idea. He kept insisting, arguing that we needed to listen, we needed to come with him, and then – suddenly – more of the hippomen, the grifs, appeared – many more of them this time, and we were forced to run. I had no more fire shields and only a little healing left, and didn’t feel like facing another onslaught like the one I had to finish the first four I killed. While we were trying to evade the Grifs a large barrel-thing was lowered to the street below – some sort of flying device, a magical ship of great power, I’m certain – hovered above us. Worf jumped right in and beckoned to us. We followed, reluctantly. I would much rather have been back in the barracks with the stink of gunpowder and more of Solen’s damn waffles for dinner that cooped up in that barrel, being pulled up to Ehlonna-knows-what by people dim enough to hire an alcoholic dwarf.
And I wondered. Here I am, dragged off into the unknown without a plan, without even the soldier’s comfortable sense that his superior officers have a plan and he only needs to worry about doing his job. Is this what it’s really like to be an adventurer? Jump feet first into every sticky situation and then improvise your way out? No wonder so few adventurers survive to a ripe old age. Perhaps I had misjudged this crew – looking at them, they were not what I would want with me on a formal field of battle, but perhaps they were much more suited to this sort of work, the improvisation, the chaos of their adventures and challenges. Heroes like this, I imagine, are at their best when the plan goes to hell, when all seems lost, and I wondered for a few moments whether I could hold my own with this group.
Uri looked up at me. “You killed a lot of them down there. That spell kicks ass. And you’re a cleric?”
I nodded. Maybe we had a lot to teach each other.
(Eli’s player asked to take over and run an adventure for the Heroes of Spittlemarch game. I created a character who will take over the narration from his point of view. Eli is off training with his mentors in the Order of the Shooting Star, and is not available for this adventure.)
My name is Pavel. I’m a itinerant brother in the service of Ehlonna, and I am currently attached to the newest elite military unit in Dyvers, the Dyvers Dragoons. We’re a small company, just 20 soldiers and then some support personnel.
I was excited to join the Dragoons – such an elite unit, selected from all the free armies, you know the slots in this unit were prized highly, even if some don’t trust the gnome’s invention as a weapon. So far it seems to be quite powerful.
The Dragoons are a hardy bunch – at least, the 16 of us who are regular army. Solen, the gnome, insisted loudly for weeks that we had to hold four positions in the unit for the original four who inspired the unit – the ones that awful tavern song was about, the ‘heroes’ of Spittlemarch. Some heroes.
Captain Nikolai is a good man – gruff, certainly, and hard on the men. He’s burning through the powder like mad, training the men to shoot and reload, shoot and reload. I can’t seem to wash away the acrid smell of the powder – it clings to my hair and clothes. My ears are ringing, too. The guns a quite loud, but I suspect that the noise is part of their power – it would be very intimidating to be faced with the full unit of dragoons firing at will.
Then Solen brought in his friends. And the trouble started. There were actually five of them, although Solen was not aware, apparently, that a young halfling monk had started tagging along with the group. That one, called Minimonk, is now one of the camp followers.
The toughest, and most apparently useful of the Spittlemarch crowd is Irk, the dwarf. He did something I’ve never seen done before – picked a fight with Nikolai and won. That’s going to make things interesting. I don’t know how the Captain will respond to the challenge to his command.
Then there’s the Elf – a good shot with a bow, and pretty light on his feet, but quiet. He’s gone off on his own again – training, meditating, something like that.
The only one of the four to actually use firearms is Pah, a halfling scout. She has a pair of small pistols that Solen made special for her, and she’s very good with them. She’s the one they call the Thunderer, and she doesn’t let anyone forget that there are songs written about her. I hope she’s as good in a fight as she’d have us believe.
The group’s spellslinger is another halfling, one named Uri. His cohort Minimonk never leaves his side, and seems to be there mostly to laugh at all of Uri’s jokes. I don’t know how this motley crew pulled off some of the things they’ve done – especially without a cleric around.
The group may be effective in their own way, but it looks like there’s going to be trouble – they’re too much free spirits, too irregular for Nikolai’s kind of army. Nikolai’s second in command, a cretin named Alexei, has been very chummy with the group since Irk pounded the snot out of Nikolai, which doesn’t bode well, either. Perhaps he things that’s the road to command. But that would be bad news. I fear.
You see, Alexei has been seen around with some of the local Dragonpriests. I don’t know how involved he is, but I don’t like those scaly bastards one bit, and if he’s getting into bed with them, I’d hate to see him in command of the Dragoons. But the amazing thing is that Alexei is so chummy with the heroes, too – and not afraid to talk about the dragon faith with them. Can it really be that he hasn’t heard the stories about these four, about what they did to Eldgrim, how they thwarted the plans of the great wyrm Sear, about how they killed that SOB Anathe? Either he’s not too bright, or he’s up to something.
Anyway, I decided to get to know the heroes a bit better. After all, I’m not exactly a regular myself. We were sitting around a tavern having a quiet drink, talking about some of the specifics of their adventuring style. I found that conversations with the troupe went something like this.
Uri: I’m funny.
Minimonk: Heh heh, yeah, you’re funny.
Pah: You know, I’m a legend. There’s a song about me and everything.
Irk: (drinks)
Eli: (appears to meditate in the corner)
Uri: I mean it. Really damn funny.
Pah: You’re only funny ‘cause I set you up.
Uri: Think what you like, honey.
Minimonk: he he he
Irk: (drinks)
Eli: (peeks with one eye to guide his hand as he takes a sip of white wine, then returns to meditating).
Uri: I’m funnier than you.
Pah: (looks at him with an arched eyebrow)
Uri: Really.
Minimonk: Really.
Irk: (drinks)
Eli: (nibbles at a bit of dried fruit)
Uri: Are you saying you don’t think I’m funny? Because I am.
And on like that. I’m sure there’s something I’m not seeing here. They are not what I expected of the heroes of Spittlemarch.
So, anyway, one night I was sitting around having a quiet drink with the dwarf and the three halflings – Eli was off doing some secret elf training thing – and things got interesting. It started with a dwarf named Warf, who rolled a whole keg over to our table and wanted us to drink with him. Even those of us who were trying to drink sparingly at most wound up getting drunk – perhaps the beer was laced with something, I don’t know. Anyway, we work up chained in a drunk tank. Mind you, I’ve served with the Dyvers Free army for most of my adult life, this was not my first time in a drunk tank, but I thought I had left those years behind long ago.
The cell stank of hops, as we lot of chained slobs sweat out the beer from the night before. It struck me odd that they’d locked Pah, a young female halfling, in the cell with the men. Perhaps they hadn’t noticed she was female (although, the cuts and adjustments she’s made to her uniform tabard to reveal and emphasize her cleavage should have been a dead giveaway.)
At any rate, while we were waking up and trying to get our bearings, a dark-clad rogue snuck into the jail and subdued the guards. Apparently there was going to be some sort of jail break – and one that seemed supremely ill-informed. After all, we had been informed by the guards that we would be released at noon, so there was precious little reason to risk becoming bigger criminals by trying to escape, or allowing someone else to try to break us out. But the rogueish fellow insisted that we had to get out now, that he had come to rescue the drunken dwarf named Worf, and would take us too, all back to his ship so we could escape.
Well, I can say quite proudly, that none of us were having any. We weren’t getting on any ships, we weren’t going to be busted out of jail, and it seemed like the biggest danger we, as members in good standing of one of the most elite military units in the city would come from trying to escape with this little nutter. So we said no. And as we were chained to the dwarf, that made taking the dwarf out that much harder.
The breakout artist got jumpy. He started to babble something about not having time for this, needing to get away before THEY got here, and that sort of stuff. At the time, it seemed pretty convenient, and we sat right there, even after he insisted on picking the lock to our cell and opening the door.
The debate went on a bit, and things started to get a little hairy. Pah was trying to pick the locks on our chains so we could get a little more mobility if things got interesting. Irk and Uri were arguing with the rogue, playing tug of war with him and his two henchmen over Worf. Irk finally got fed up with debate and started throwing punches. Then the back wall of the jail blew up.
Just exploded, rocks and plaster blown all over the place, and a great big hole where there had been a wall before. The Rogue ran. Worf finally woke up, and found himself free of the chains (thanks to the breakout artist).
I turned to face the hole in the wall, and found that we were being attacked from that side, too, this time by a half-dozen huge Hippo-headed humanoids with some sortof axe-gun thing and very dim looks in their eyes. I turned to face them, to cover the other two halflings, and told them to run.
I had recovered my weapons and holy symbol, and felt ready to face just about anything. I had a moment to get a few spells cast, most importantly a fire shield, and then I drew Thorn, my longsword, and stepped up to meet the Hippomen. Fire shield flickering around me, I called out to the Hippos. “By the power vested in me by the City of Dyvers, I command you to stand down.”
My cellmates were clearly impressed.
Pah jerked a finger in my direction. “Lookit him.”
Irk said, “He’s sparkly.”
Uri said, “I’m really gonna hate to see that guy die.”
Then everyone jumped into action.
Worf took off running, and Irk and Pah were right behind him.
While Irk and Pah managed to chase down Worf, arguing with him along the way and finally convincing him that the best way to prove that he was really on our side was to come back and help fight the Hippomen, I stood my ground in the midst of a terrifying hail of blows. I was protected by the fire shield, so every time they landed a blow they suffered terrible burns from being so close. I was forced to focus on continuing to call on the powers of Ehlonna to heal me of those wounds each round, so I was only able to take a few swings with Thorn, but the it was enough that the Hippomen were dimwitted enough to continue to break themselves against my fire shield, eventually killing themselves in a desperate attempt to kill me. I killed 4 that way. The other two gave up on me and raced past me to try to take the two halflings, but they ran out into the street, where they met the other three – Irk, Pah, and Worf, returning to help, finally. I came up behind the pursuing Hippomen, in time to help the group finish the last two in short order and try to get our bearings.
We were regrouping – checking out the Hippoman bodies and trying to get a sense of what we were up against. None of us were very satisfied with the answers we were getting from Worf, who kept babbling something about getting to a ship and getting out of there before more of them (he called them Grifs, I think) turned up. He seemed to think they were more than we could handle. And perhaps he was right, but running off into the unknown rather than running back to our barracks and the cover provided by the rest of our unit seemed like a terrible idea. He kept insisting, arguing that we needed to listen, we needed to come with him, and then – suddenly – more of the hippomen, the grifs, appeared – many more of them this time, and we were forced to run. I had no more fire shields and only a little healing left, and didn’t feel like facing another onslaught like the one I had to finish the first four I killed. While we were trying to evade the Grifs a large barrel-thing was lowered to the street below – some sort of flying device, a magical ship of great power, I’m certain – hovered above us. Worf jumped right in and beckoned to us. We followed, reluctantly. I would much rather have been back in the barracks with the stink of gunpowder and more of Solen’s damn waffles for dinner that cooped up in that barrel, being pulled up to Ehlonna-knows-what by people dim enough to hire an alcoholic dwarf.
And I wondered. Here I am, dragged off into the unknown without a plan, without even the soldier’s comfortable sense that his superior officers have a plan and he only needs to worry about doing his job. Is this what it’s really like to be an adventurer? Jump feet first into every sticky situation and then improvise your way out? No wonder so few adventurers survive to a ripe old age. Perhaps I had misjudged this crew – looking at them, they were not what I would want with me on a formal field of battle, but perhaps they were much more suited to this sort of work, the improvisation, the chaos of their adventures and challenges. Heroes like this, I imagine, are at their best when the plan goes to hell, when all seems lost, and I wondered for a few moments whether I could hold my own with this group.
Uri looked up at me. “You killed a lot of them down there. That spell kicks ass. And you’re a cleric?”
I nodded. Maybe we had a lot to teach each other.
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Radiating Gnome
Adventurer
Pavel’s Journal, Part II (aka Something a little different)
Pavel’s Journal, Part II
We were whisked up into the sky – a terrifying thing, let me tell you – in this odd airship. By and large we were too distracted being angry with Worf and the others who had gotten us into this predicament to notice Dyvers getting smaller and smaller beneath us.
We were, however, introduced to the rest of the crew. There was a captain named Jimbo. Other officers, whose duties I was never clear about, named Jordi, Weasley and perhaps more. There was a Golem named Tiktok. And the leader of the little troupe? A maimed human named Commodore Pike, a legless, bearded lunatic who was carried about in some sort of chair, but a metal chair with 8 articulated, moving legs that walked him around, rather than the more normal, static four legs. Oh, and the name of the ship? Enterprise, of all things.
Having finally met the man (half-man? Demi-man? Manlette?) responsible for the whole show, we started demanding a few things, first and foremost that we be dropped off, back on solid ground, and released. Naturally it wasn’t going to be that easy.
“But I need you,” Pike said. “I hired Worf, but he seems a bit too unsteady, a bit of a drunk. But I must complete my quest, and you are the only ones who can help me. Besides, I like you.”
“Oh,” said Eli. “Everyone starts out liking us.”
When Pike continued to carp about Worf being unreliable, Eli pointed out, “you know, you don’t look very smart, complaining about him being a drunk when you’re paying him in beer.”
Minimonk sniggered.
Pah asked, “What’s in it for us?”
Irk added, “Is there gold? We never get any gold.”
It became clear that we weren’t going to be taken home until we helped him with his quest. And, being an adventurous lot, they started asking what the quest might be. It turned out that Pike was after something called the Golden Fleece. So, yes Irk, there would be gold, of a sort. And it wasn’t even on our world – there’s a heady concept. We had all been so focused on the debate that we had not noticed that the ship had continued to climb, until not only Dyvers, but the world itself appeared to be small enough to carry in my hand. And we grew closer to another planet, perhaps a moon. And that was apparently the place where we would find the Golden Fleece.
I was convinced that I was dreaming. Some terrible, spoiled horsemeat-induced dream. But the moon kept getting bigger. I was terrified.
While I was trying to get my bearings, Pike went on to jabber about a spider temple of some sort, an evil place that we could raid and loot, but I don’t recall the specific details.
I had to look away, to distract myself. I wandered up to the Afterdeck, where the wheel was being manned by a gnome. When I expressed some interest in how the ship was navigated through air and between worlds. The gnome offered me a seat behind the great wheel, and I took it.
The Wheel felt smooth in my hands, but I was startled by an very unusual sensation, feeling that the wheel was somehow draining energy from me. I found I was able to direct the ship’s movement mentally while I held the wheel. It was easy, almost intuitive, but it drained away all of the spells I had memorized for the day, leaving me feeling quite uncomfortable. I scowled at the gnome, weighing the possibility of tossing him overboard, but decided against it. It was good to know that I could steer the great airship if necessary. I only hoped that losing the spells was temporary.
As we had some time in transit ahead of us, we decided to stake out some space for ourselves and get some rest. We slept in shifts through the night, fitfully, and when morning came I was relieved to pray and find my spells restored.
The ship had made great progress while we slept, and was flying above the surface of a great sea. Ahead, in the distance, we could see a small Atoll, which turned out to be our target, the island on which we would find the fabled Golden Fleece.
Pah had a new fixation. Both Tiktok and Pike were wearing hats – black stiff hats with wide brims that curled up above the ears – and Pah wanted one of them. Badly. She alternated between asking for it (or just saying she wanted it) and trying to sneak up on Pike or Tiktok and trying to steal it. She was never successful, something that was striking – such a gifted thief, to be completely unable to snitch a simple article of clothing . . . there was something special about those hats. Perhaps that was why Pah was so fixated on them – maybe she had already sensed what I was only able to deduce from her behavior. At any rate, I found myself wishing she would find a way to get her hands on one of those hats.
We landed on dry land on the small Atoll, and joined the major players in the Enterprise’s crew in a trek inland to look for the Golden Fleece. Our band took up the rear, trying to stick together and not be too close to or too far from the lunatics leading us into the jungle.
We were met shortly after entering that jungle by an odd tribe of tropical gnomes. The took us back to their village, held a great feast in our honor, and told us all about their great diety, the Sun God. Then they prepared an offering and we waited in a huge ceremonial clearing for the arrival of their god.
Now, I am a religious man. Every day I feel the power of the touch of my god, Ehlonna. I see her in every leaf, every branch. But I’ve never seen her, the "real" Ehlonna. If a mortal can truly comprehend the presence of a god. I don’t know many of the most devout in this world who have – and this whole goofy short society gets daily visits from their sun god. Obviously I was a little skeptical that this creature would actually be a sun god.
But, at the same time, they see this creature as a sun god – and as I serve Ehlonna specifically in her Sun aspect. I felt a kinship for these people, for their touchingly juvenile ritual, and their pure adoration of the Sun. I found myself waiting among them, feeling like one of them, and looking at the crew of the Enterprise, wondering what I was doing.
Then the sun god arrived. It was a rodent the size of a roadside tavern, covered in glittering, golden fur that seemed to shine with an inner light. Here was the golden fleece, the subject of Pike’s quest, in the body of the gnome’s sun god. The great beast made it’s way into the clearing and started to munch away on the offerings of fruit the gnomes have left.
I stepped forward, using my animal friendship ability to try to make a connection with it, and it was starting to work, but then Pike started shouting for us to attack it, there it was, get the fleece, and so on. When we didn't move fast enough, he cast a charm on Irk, who suddenly started to support the Commodore's position in the debate. And that just wasn't going over well with the rest of the Dragoons.
So we attacked Pike and his men while the gnomes scattered and the sun god fled into the jungle.
We concentrated our attacks on Pike and Tiktok, who started emitting a blinding cloud of smoke almost as soon as the combat began. .
I wasn’t going to let that stand any longer than I could. I decided to give him a bit of a hot seat, casting heat metal on his chair and warning him that unless he released Irk “you are going to fry in your own ass carriage.” I thought it was pretty clever, but minimonk, plinking away with his crossbow nearby, didn’t snicker. Maybe he only laughs at Uri’s jokes.
Anyway, the fight shuffled on, Tiktok trying to protect his master, Pike trying to escape, the other Enterprisers not being very effective, Irk trying to break up the fight before someone got hurt, and our band trying to put big holes in the ever-fleeing Pike. In the end, Tiktok fell trying to protect his master, while Pike escaped into the jungle. I’d spent most of my spells again, the party wasn’t too badly hurt (although Irk was still a bit muddled).
The good news? Pah got Tiktok’s hat. And what a hat it was. When she pulled it off Tiktok’s body an illusion faced, and we saw him for what he was – yet another warrior, no golem at all, and Pah managed to figure out how to use the hat – a magic hat of disguise – in a few minutes.
The gnomes had scattered, as had the sun god. Pike was gone, as were the other survivors of his landing party. But we knew one thing. We were not in a footrace to get back to the Enterprise first, before we were marooned on this . . . place.
More next time . . .
Pavel’s Journal, Part II
We were whisked up into the sky – a terrifying thing, let me tell you – in this odd airship. By and large we were too distracted being angry with Worf and the others who had gotten us into this predicament to notice Dyvers getting smaller and smaller beneath us.
We were, however, introduced to the rest of the crew. There was a captain named Jimbo. Other officers, whose duties I was never clear about, named Jordi, Weasley and perhaps more. There was a Golem named Tiktok. And the leader of the little troupe? A maimed human named Commodore Pike, a legless, bearded lunatic who was carried about in some sort of chair, but a metal chair with 8 articulated, moving legs that walked him around, rather than the more normal, static four legs. Oh, and the name of the ship? Enterprise, of all things.
Having finally met the man (half-man? Demi-man? Manlette?) responsible for the whole show, we started demanding a few things, first and foremost that we be dropped off, back on solid ground, and released. Naturally it wasn’t going to be that easy.
“But I need you,” Pike said. “I hired Worf, but he seems a bit too unsteady, a bit of a drunk. But I must complete my quest, and you are the only ones who can help me. Besides, I like you.”
“Oh,” said Eli. “Everyone starts out liking us.”
When Pike continued to carp about Worf being unreliable, Eli pointed out, “you know, you don’t look very smart, complaining about him being a drunk when you’re paying him in beer.”
Minimonk sniggered.
Pah asked, “What’s in it for us?”
Irk added, “Is there gold? We never get any gold.”
It became clear that we weren’t going to be taken home until we helped him with his quest. And, being an adventurous lot, they started asking what the quest might be. It turned out that Pike was after something called the Golden Fleece. So, yes Irk, there would be gold, of a sort. And it wasn’t even on our world – there’s a heady concept. We had all been so focused on the debate that we had not noticed that the ship had continued to climb, until not only Dyvers, but the world itself appeared to be small enough to carry in my hand. And we grew closer to another planet, perhaps a moon. And that was apparently the place where we would find the Golden Fleece.
I was convinced that I was dreaming. Some terrible, spoiled horsemeat-induced dream. But the moon kept getting bigger. I was terrified.
While I was trying to get my bearings, Pike went on to jabber about a spider temple of some sort, an evil place that we could raid and loot, but I don’t recall the specific details.
I had to look away, to distract myself. I wandered up to the Afterdeck, where the wheel was being manned by a gnome. When I expressed some interest in how the ship was navigated through air and between worlds. The gnome offered me a seat behind the great wheel, and I took it.
The Wheel felt smooth in my hands, but I was startled by an very unusual sensation, feeling that the wheel was somehow draining energy from me. I found I was able to direct the ship’s movement mentally while I held the wheel. It was easy, almost intuitive, but it drained away all of the spells I had memorized for the day, leaving me feeling quite uncomfortable. I scowled at the gnome, weighing the possibility of tossing him overboard, but decided against it. It was good to know that I could steer the great airship if necessary. I only hoped that losing the spells was temporary.
As we had some time in transit ahead of us, we decided to stake out some space for ourselves and get some rest. We slept in shifts through the night, fitfully, and when morning came I was relieved to pray and find my spells restored.
The ship had made great progress while we slept, and was flying above the surface of a great sea. Ahead, in the distance, we could see a small Atoll, which turned out to be our target, the island on which we would find the fabled Golden Fleece.
Pah had a new fixation. Both Tiktok and Pike were wearing hats – black stiff hats with wide brims that curled up above the ears – and Pah wanted one of them. Badly. She alternated between asking for it (or just saying she wanted it) and trying to sneak up on Pike or Tiktok and trying to steal it. She was never successful, something that was striking – such a gifted thief, to be completely unable to snitch a simple article of clothing . . . there was something special about those hats. Perhaps that was why Pah was so fixated on them – maybe she had already sensed what I was only able to deduce from her behavior. At any rate, I found myself wishing she would find a way to get her hands on one of those hats.
We landed on dry land on the small Atoll, and joined the major players in the Enterprise’s crew in a trek inland to look for the Golden Fleece. Our band took up the rear, trying to stick together and not be too close to or too far from the lunatics leading us into the jungle.
We were met shortly after entering that jungle by an odd tribe of tropical gnomes. The took us back to their village, held a great feast in our honor, and told us all about their great diety, the Sun God. Then they prepared an offering and we waited in a huge ceremonial clearing for the arrival of their god.
Now, I am a religious man. Every day I feel the power of the touch of my god, Ehlonna. I see her in every leaf, every branch. But I’ve never seen her, the "real" Ehlonna. If a mortal can truly comprehend the presence of a god. I don’t know many of the most devout in this world who have – and this whole goofy short society gets daily visits from their sun god. Obviously I was a little skeptical that this creature would actually be a sun god.
But, at the same time, they see this creature as a sun god – and as I serve Ehlonna specifically in her Sun aspect. I felt a kinship for these people, for their touchingly juvenile ritual, and their pure adoration of the Sun. I found myself waiting among them, feeling like one of them, and looking at the crew of the Enterprise, wondering what I was doing.
Then the sun god arrived. It was a rodent the size of a roadside tavern, covered in glittering, golden fur that seemed to shine with an inner light. Here was the golden fleece, the subject of Pike’s quest, in the body of the gnome’s sun god. The great beast made it’s way into the clearing and started to munch away on the offerings of fruit the gnomes have left.
I stepped forward, using my animal friendship ability to try to make a connection with it, and it was starting to work, but then Pike started shouting for us to attack it, there it was, get the fleece, and so on. When we didn't move fast enough, he cast a charm on Irk, who suddenly started to support the Commodore's position in the debate. And that just wasn't going over well with the rest of the Dragoons.
So we attacked Pike and his men while the gnomes scattered and the sun god fled into the jungle.
We concentrated our attacks on Pike and Tiktok, who started emitting a blinding cloud of smoke almost as soon as the combat began. .
I wasn’t going to let that stand any longer than I could. I decided to give him a bit of a hot seat, casting heat metal on his chair and warning him that unless he released Irk “you are going to fry in your own ass carriage.” I thought it was pretty clever, but minimonk, plinking away with his crossbow nearby, didn’t snicker. Maybe he only laughs at Uri’s jokes.
Anyway, the fight shuffled on, Tiktok trying to protect his master, Pike trying to escape, the other Enterprisers not being very effective, Irk trying to break up the fight before someone got hurt, and our band trying to put big holes in the ever-fleeing Pike. In the end, Tiktok fell trying to protect his master, while Pike escaped into the jungle. I’d spent most of my spells again, the party wasn’t too badly hurt (although Irk was still a bit muddled).
The good news? Pah got Tiktok’s hat. And what a hat it was. When she pulled it off Tiktok’s body an illusion faced, and we saw him for what he was – yet another warrior, no golem at all, and Pah managed to figure out how to use the hat – a magic hat of disguise – in a few minutes.
The gnomes had scattered, as had the sun god. Pike was gone, as were the other survivors of his landing party. But we knew one thing. We were not in a footrace to get back to the Enterprise first, before we were marooned on this . . . place.
More next time . . .
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Radiating Gnome
Adventurer
Pike’s Peak
Once we had gathered ourselves in back in the clearing, we figured we needed to make our way as quickly as possible back to the Enterprise – we didn’t want to be marooned here, however pleasant the environment was. So, after a few quick taps from my wand of Cure Light Wounds, we took off at a run for the ship.
We reached the beach just in the nick of time. A quartet of gnomes had started to turn the capstan, raising anchor, and the Commodore and his men were shuffling around the decks preparing to make sail. For some reason, they had left a longboat on the shore, an oversight we quickly took advantage of, hustling ourselves and my two war dogs, Toblerone and Cadbury, into the boat while Irk and I took the oars.
We pulled as hard as we could, trying to close the difference between the two ships as quickly as possible. Once Pike and his goons spotted us, the fun started. A few were taking pot shots at us with crossbows, while someone on deck called up a storm to make rowing more difficult – a storm which eventually produced a bolt of lightning – a very odd bolt, one that signed most everyone in the boat – killing Cadbury and nearly killing Toby, who I managed to save with a tap from my wand. But the boat itself took no damage at all.
Still worried that we would not be able to get to the ship before they weighed anchor and left us behind, Uri got into action from the bow of the longboat. He cast a thick web over the foredeck, where the gnomes were working on the capstan, effectively stopping them in their tracks. Then he traded shots with the rest of the crew on deck until the boat was alongside the ship.
Now, boarding a large ship from a longboat is a tricky business – trying to attack up the steep sides of a ship while people are attacking you from above is practically suicide. Of course, this group had it a lot easier than most. Irk, who snatched up his axe, was the first to reach the deck, carrying Uri on his back. He was wearing his slippers of spider slimb, and was able to charge up the side of the ship as if it were firm, level ground. Within seconds he was on deck cleaving his way through the gnomes trying to repel boarders.
Pah managed to reach the deck in a single bound – thanks to that ring of jumping – and began to dart around the deck taking shots of opportunity as they became available.
With the way cleared, Minimonk was also able to scamper up to the deck without difficulty. Which left me, Toby, and Caddy’s corpse in the boat. I knew there was no way I was going to get Caddy up there right away, so she would have to wait until after the battle. I grabbed a rope and tried to haul myself up onto the ship.
I fell the first time – nearly falling into the water, where my armor would have sunk me pretty quickly. I hauled myself back into the longboat, and began trying to climb the side of the ship again, eventually hauling myself up there in time to see the battle in full swing.
Irk was making short work of the commodore’s flunkies, while the halfling trio bounced around and worked on the flanks. Jordi and Weasley, two of Pike’s flunkies, fell quickly. I charged up to the afterdeck, where Pike was trying to make a last stand, in time for the charm that Pike had placed on Irk to make life difficult again – Irk didn’t mind the idea of our attacking Pike’s men, but when we turned our attention to Pike himself, Irk balked at the idea, and did his best to keep us from fighting with him. We had to distract Irk by sending him below hunting for treasure.
Pike himself turned out to be a tough opponent. The legs of his metal chair lashed out at us, as we surrounded him and tried to finish him off with some flanking attacks. He bolted for the lower deck, but Pah lept into the rigging and executed an amazingly acrobatic rope swing down to cut him off (her first level as an acrobat paying off). Once we had him cornered again we managed to finish him off. Pah pulled off his hat as well, revealing that he was some sort of monstrous insect humanoid, not the demi-commodore he looked like. Weird. We rolled his corpse into the water and set about clearing out the rest of the ship.
We found a crew of gnomes hiding down below – perhaps connected with the gnomes that had been helping the Commodore run the ship and try to fight us off. They surrendered to us without a fight. They tried to convince us that they would just drop us off back at our planet, but Pah had decided the ship was her new home, and she wasn’t listening to a bunch of dwarves about it. In the end, the Gnomes were dropped off on the Atoll, where we can only hope they were welcomed into the local tribe. And then I got into the chair again to fly the Enterprise back towards Dyvers.
The navigation was trickier than we thought it would be, but we were able, after a few false starts, to make our way back to Dyvers, where we sailed over the city, flying a makeshift Dragoon flag. We decided to dock the ship in the Dragoon Barracks, rather than landing in the harbor, so the ship would be easier to protect, and we could work on repainting and renaming the ship. For some reason the others were convinced that the wanted to call the ship the Mystery Machine. Whenever the subject came up, Uri started telling Pah she was Velma, not Daphne, but I have no idea what any of that meant (although it did seem to aggravate Pah).
Next time: getting caught up on life in Dyvers.
Once we had gathered ourselves in back in the clearing, we figured we needed to make our way as quickly as possible back to the Enterprise – we didn’t want to be marooned here, however pleasant the environment was. So, after a few quick taps from my wand of Cure Light Wounds, we took off at a run for the ship.
We reached the beach just in the nick of time. A quartet of gnomes had started to turn the capstan, raising anchor, and the Commodore and his men were shuffling around the decks preparing to make sail. For some reason, they had left a longboat on the shore, an oversight we quickly took advantage of, hustling ourselves and my two war dogs, Toblerone and Cadbury, into the boat while Irk and I took the oars.
We pulled as hard as we could, trying to close the difference between the two ships as quickly as possible. Once Pike and his goons spotted us, the fun started. A few were taking pot shots at us with crossbows, while someone on deck called up a storm to make rowing more difficult – a storm which eventually produced a bolt of lightning – a very odd bolt, one that signed most everyone in the boat – killing Cadbury and nearly killing Toby, who I managed to save with a tap from my wand. But the boat itself took no damage at all.
Still worried that we would not be able to get to the ship before they weighed anchor and left us behind, Uri got into action from the bow of the longboat. He cast a thick web over the foredeck, where the gnomes were working on the capstan, effectively stopping them in their tracks. Then he traded shots with the rest of the crew on deck until the boat was alongside the ship.
Now, boarding a large ship from a longboat is a tricky business – trying to attack up the steep sides of a ship while people are attacking you from above is practically suicide. Of course, this group had it a lot easier than most. Irk, who snatched up his axe, was the first to reach the deck, carrying Uri on his back. He was wearing his slippers of spider slimb, and was able to charge up the side of the ship as if it were firm, level ground. Within seconds he was on deck cleaving his way through the gnomes trying to repel boarders.
Pah managed to reach the deck in a single bound – thanks to that ring of jumping – and began to dart around the deck taking shots of opportunity as they became available.
With the way cleared, Minimonk was also able to scamper up to the deck without difficulty. Which left me, Toby, and Caddy’s corpse in the boat. I knew there was no way I was going to get Caddy up there right away, so she would have to wait until after the battle. I grabbed a rope and tried to haul myself up onto the ship.
I fell the first time – nearly falling into the water, where my armor would have sunk me pretty quickly. I hauled myself back into the longboat, and began trying to climb the side of the ship again, eventually hauling myself up there in time to see the battle in full swing.
Irk was making short work of the commodore’s flunkies, while the halfling trio bounced around and worked on the flanks. Jordi and Weasley, two of Pike’s flunkies, fell quickly. I charged up to the afterdeck, where Pike was trying to make a last stand, in time for the charm that Pike had placed on Irk to make life difficult again – Irk didn’t mind the idea of our attacking Pike’s men, but when we turned our attention to Pike himself, Irk balked at the idea, and did his best to keep us from fighting with him. We had to distract Irk by sending him below hunting for treasure.
Pike himself turned out to be a tough opponent. The legs of his metal chair lashed out at us, as we surrounded him and tried to finish him off with some flanking attacks. He bolted for the lower deck, but Pah lept into the rigging and executed an amazingly acrobatic rope swing down to cut him off (her first level as an acrobat paying off). Once we had him cornered again we managed to finish him off. Pah pulled off his hat as well, revealing that he was some sort of monstrous insect humanoid, not the demi-commodore he looked like. Weird. We rolled his corpse into the water and set about clearing out the rest of the ship.
We found a crew of gnomes hiding down below – perhaps connected with the gnomes that had been helping the Commodore run the ship and try to fight us off. They surrendered to us without a fight. They tried to convince us that they would just drop us off back at our planet, but Pah had decided the ship was her new home, and she wasn’t listening to a bunch of dwarves about it. In the end, the Gnomes were dropped off on the Atoll, where we can only hope they were welcomed into the local tribe. And then I got into the chair again to fly the Enterprise back towards Dyvers.
The navigation was trickier than we thought it would be, but we were able, after a few false starts, to make our way back to Dyvers, where we sailed over the city, flying a makeshift Dragoon flag. We decided to dock the ship in the Dragoon Barracks, rather than landing in the harbor, so the ship would be easier to protect, and we could work on repainting and renaming the ship. For some reason the others were convinced that the wanted to call the ship the Mystery Machine. Whenever the subject came up, Uri started telling Pah she was Velma, not Daphne, but I have no idea what any of that meant (although it did seem to aggravate Pah).
Next time: getting caught up on life in Dyvers.
Radiating Gnome
Adventurer
Goonies in Dyvers
(Note: Now that I have returned to the DM chair for our group, and Eli has returned to the ranks of the party, I think I’m going to not use Pavel as a narrator anymore – it worked while I was a player, but now that I’m DM again I think I’ll just go back to a more omniscient point of view)
The commotion caused by the return of the missing Dragoons, at the helm of a flying ship, quickly settled down, as more exciting things were happening in Dyvers. In the heroes’ short absence the Dragon Priests had gained even more political power in the city, and hand managed to force the Magister to approve yet another special unit of guards, this one under the control of the Dragon Priests, and called the Claws of the Dragon. Almost over night there were Claws patrols making their way through the city, meting out crude justice and demonstrating a great deal of power.
Solen, while pleased with the return of the heroes, was especially relieved to see the Enterprise/Mystery Machine – and to absorb it into his plans for the Dragoons. There was some resistance to the idea of making the ship the Dragoon flagship, but in the end Solen and the players agreed that the ship was the property of the players, but that the dragoons could make use of it.
Solen set about making some additions to the ship, including adding great crossbows to the fore- and sterncastles, building a drydock in the barrack’s compound to park the ship in, and putting a store of powder and shot in the ship, ready if they had to make a move at a moment’s notice.
More news trickled in to the Dragoon compound. The claws had a barracks already, their recruits were training, and there was a great deal of construction going on in the temple district – the Dragon Priests, with some recent, huge influx of capital, had bought up a huge area in the temple district, in and around their temple, and were building a huge complex there, having hired every mason, carpenter, and laborer in the city to work on their walls.
There was one other bit of news. A new officer had been seen in and around the Dragonpriest compound – in shining white armor. Anathe was back.
When Irk heard this bit of news he quietly excused himself and disappeared. Knowing what he was probably up to, the rest of the heroes quickly tagged along.
Irk made his way to the Temple district, and found himself standing across a wide square looking at the construction site around the DP temple. He stood there, as the others caught up, and watched as a unit of claws went through a training routine with their weapon of choice, the double-bladed sword.
Shortly after the party arrived and started observing, just as the sun winked over the horizon, Anathe appeared – at the head of a platoon of Claws and some other, slim, robed figures. They were marching towards the docks quarter.
Irk stepped forward. “Hey, Whitey!” he shouted, and turned and bared his stumpy, hairy buttocks at Anathe.
Uri, acting quickly, wrapped an obscuring mist around the party, almost hiding Irk’s ass in time. As Anathe’s form was lost from view in the mist, the party could see him scowl in recognition, but keep moving away.
The others managed to get Irk to return to the Dragoon barracks.
Later they heard rumors that a great ship – with the blood-red sails of the dragonfaith – had sailed into port and unloaded a lot of passengers – soldiers and adventuring types, mostly, all already dressed in the uniform of the Claws, a uniform that had been approved less than a week before. The party took a late night jaunt over to the docks and tried to investigate a little, but got little more than a slightly more detailed description of the arrival of the Dragonship’s passengers. There didn’t seem to be much cargo on the ship, just the soldiers. The Claws that had disembarked were a motley crew – a mix of all races, and even some fairly unusual ones.
They returned to the Barracks and had a few gloomy drinks with Solen.
(Note: Now that I have returned to the DM chair for our group, and Eli has returned to the ranks of the party, I think I’m going to not use Pavel as a narrator anymore – it worked while I was a player, but now that I’m DM again I think I’ll just go back to a more omniscient point of view)
The commotion caused by the return of the missing Dragoons, at the helm of a flying ship, quickly settled down, as more exciting things were happening in Dyvers. In the heroes’ short absence the Dragon Priests had gained even more political power in the city, and hand managed to force the Magister to approve yet another special unit of guards, this one under the control of the Dragon Priests, and called the Claws of the Dragon. Almost over night there were Claws patrols making their way through the city, meting out crude justice and demonstrating a great deal of power.
Solen, while pleased with the return of the heroes, was especially relieved to see the Enterprise/Mystery Machine – and to absorb it into his plans for the Dragoons. There was some resistance to the idea of making the ship the Dragoon flagship, but in the end Solen and the players agreed that the ship was the property of the players, but that the dragoons could make use of it.
Solen set about making some additions to the ship, including adding great crossbows to the fore- and sterncastles, building a drydock in the barrack’s compound to park the ship in, and putting a store of powder and shot in the ship, ready if they had to make a move at a moment’s notice.
More news trickled in to the Dragoon compound. The claws had a barracks already, their recruits were training, and there was a great deal of construction going on in the temple district – the Dragon Priests, with some recent, huge influx of capital, had bought up a huge area in the temple district, in and around their temple, and were building a huge complex there, having hired every mason, carpenter, and laborer in the city to work on their walls.
There was one other bit of news. A new officer had been seen in and around the Dragonpriest compound – in shining white armor. Anathe was back.
When Irk heard this bit of news he quietly excused himself and disappeared. Knowing what he was probably up to, the rest of the heroes quickly tagged along.
Irk made his way to the Temple district, and found himself standing across a wide square looking at the construction site around the DP temple. He stood there, as the others caught up, and watched as a unit of claws went through a training routine with their weapon of choice, the double-bladed sword.
Shortly after the party arrived and started observing, just as the sun winked over the horizon, Anathe appeared – at the head of a platoon of Claws and some other, slim, robed figures. They were marching towards the docks quarter.
Irk stepped forward. “Hey, Whitey!” he shouted, and turned and bared his stumpy, hairy buttocks at Anathe.
Uri, acting quickly, wrapped an obscuring mist around the party, almost hiding Irk’s ass in time. As Anathe’s form was lost from view in the mist, the party could see him scowl in recognition, but keep moving away.
The others managed to get Irk to return to the Dragoon barracks.
Later they heard rumors that a great ship – with the blood-red sails of the dragonfaith – had sailed into port and unloaded a lot of passengers – soldiers and adventuring types, mostly, all already dressed in the uniform of the Claws, a uniform that had been approved less than a week before. The party took a late night jaunt over to the docks and tried to investigate a little, but got little more than a slightly more detailed description of the arrival of the Dragonship’s passengers. There didn’t seem to be much cargo on the ship, just the soldiers. The Claws that had disembarked were a motley crew – a mix of all races, and even some fairly unusual ones.
They returned to the Barracks and had a few gloomy drinks with Solen.
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