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Heroes of Spittlemarch

Goonies in Dyvers II

Goonies in Dyvers II


The group settled in to a bit of routine for a few days. Eli was putting the finishing touches on a homemade bow, Pah was showing off her shooting trickery to the other Dragoons, Uri poured over item creation books in Solen’s lab while Minimonk complied his list of his favorite Uri one-liners, and Irk . . . well, Irk sharpened his axe.

In tavern crawls after hours the group started to hear stories about a core group of the claws – a gang of mercenary adventurers lead by a vicious dwarf named Brottkil.

One morning, things seemed odd. The men were walking around, looking at the heroes a bit oddly, as if they were waiting for something to happen, some reaction to something. No one was quite sure what to make of it. After a while, most of the group was off doing their thing, when Uri shuffled off to the latrine for his morning constitutional, still puzzled by the wide berth the other Dragoons were giving him. He shut himself in, squatted down on the worn pine seat, and looked up idly at the wall. There he saw what the fuss was about. A couplet had been carved into the wood.

Have you heard of the heroes of Spittlemarch
A short band of Rogues with no spines

Uri was incensed, to say the least.

He raced back to the lab, grabbed a sheet of parchment and a bit of charcoal, and raced back to the latrine. He took a rubbing of the carving to show the others, then took out a dagger and scratched it out, gouging up the wood something fierce.

Meanwhile, the rest of the party was trying to find out more about what was going on in and around the Dragon Temple. A day of investigating allowed them to gather a great deal of information. The dragon priests had bought or seized a great deal of land around their existing temple -- small temples and shops in the area were driven out of business and then the land bought from creditors. A huge construction project was underway on the site -- every mason, carpenter, and laborer in the city had been hired away from other jobs, most making double their usual daily salary. The construction site was confused and chaotic to the outside observer -- it seemed like everything was going up at once.

Using a hat of disguise, Pah was able to sneak into the site and steal a plan from a dwarven architect. The goonies slunk back to the Dragoon barracks to try to see what was going on.

Conferring with Solen and Nikolai, they looked over the map. Solen was aghast at the audacity of the plan. The Dragon Priests were building a walled city within Dyvers. Dragon City would have it's own barracks, it's own mercantile and tavern district, a stableyard big enough to handle a great deal of livestock (much more than seemed necessary to mount all of the claws garrisoned there) and a much larger temple complex. But more than that, there was a huge section of the walled area -- an area with even thicker, taller walls than those that separated Dragon City from Dyvers. And the notation on the map for that area read simply "Nursery."

Within the Nursery were the plans for a great tower -- something the remembered having seen the first four levels of already from outside the walls. That tower looked like it would house the leaders of the cult the tallest building in Dyvers, and a more commanding presence than even the Magister's palace.

Solen was furious, and panicked, and he started to race about, composing three or four letters at once. The party slipped back out of the lab. It was getting on towards evening, and they weren't sure what their next move would be.

Uri remembered the bit of verse from the latrine wall, and showed his rubbing to the rest of the group. They were a bit disturbed, but didn't know what to make of it. Then Olaf came back to the barracks from one of the nearby taverns, white as a sheet.

He approached the Goonies. "You had better get down to thy Slaked Throat. "

"Why?" asked Eli.

"Just go."

So they went. There was a performer at the tavern -- a bard of mediocre talent. the crowd was lively but a bit edgy once the party entered. Then, someone towards the front, who hadn't seen the Goonies come in, begged the bard to sing "it" one more time. So the bard began to sing.


Have you heard of the heroes of Spittlemarch
A short band of rogues with no spine
They kill peasants in the fields for their breakfast
slaughter children in their beds when they dine
The dwarf is a burly whoreson called Geezer.
Breadless and old, he can't walk a straight line
A hobbit with guns called Thunderpants
who farts great green clouds when she dines
An elf with a bow they call Cherrypicker
He'll fight from a distance, but up close he'll surrender and whine
And the little wizard, a peck called Bugboy
He crals on his belly to find the roaches on which he dines
Those are the heroes of spittle march
A short band of rogues with no spine.


As the bard began a second reprise, Irk pushed his way towards the bar. Over the sound of most of the tavern singing along, Irk ordered a small barrel of beer. Once it came, he hefted it once, testing the weight and balance. Then he threw it at the Bard.

The barrel smashed into the bard, crushing his lute and knocking him against the back wall in a pool of beer and sprung barrel staves. While the crowd looked on in shock, and the bard tried to regain his feet, Irk bounded onto the stage, snatching up a footstool in one hand, and began to pummel the soggy bard with it.

The tavern cleared pretty quickly. And it was only a matter of moments before the sound of the calls for the city watch could be heard. So the other Goonies dragged Irk off the bard and dragged the two of them off into the night, looking for a new, quiet place, where they could question him.

Uri, who had stayed behind at the barracks to try to help Solen and do some more research, discovered the entire lyrics of the song carved into the latrine wall. Convinced that there was trouble coming, he raced off to the tavern, looking for the rest of the goonies. But his search took a lot longer than he expected, because the tavern group had skittered off to hiding with the bard.

The bard told them an interesting story, once they sat him down in a dark alley for questioning. He had been hired -- for a huge fee -- to sing and play that song by a human male, wearing the colors of the claws of the dragon under a heavy cloak. he knew nothing more, had though it a prank more than anything else, but clearly had not expected the sort of theater critics the goonies (by which we mean Irk) turned out to be.

Uri failed to find the others, and returned to the barracks after a while. there he made a terrible discovery. Under the cover of night, with none of the goonies and only a few dragoons around, the Barracks area had been raided. Two night watchmen were dead. And the door to Solen's laboratory stood open.

Uri peeked inside the lab. There, on the floor, was Solen's body, a grey-black blade still thrust into his back. He was dead -- had been dead long enough to be a bit cold already.

That alarm went up. Uri ran about, barking orders and the last few Dragoons in the compound, trying to call back the others from their night revels.

Hearing the alarms as they headed back towards the barracks, the other goonies picked up the pace, racing back as fast as their stunty legs could carry them. There they found Uri, Pavel and the just-awakened and still groggy Nikolai trying to sort out what to do next.

Uri saw the rest of the group approaching. He told them the outlines of the story. "Solen's dead.

Irk shrugged with bravado he didn't quite feel. "We've been dead before."

The party examined the scene as best they could. It was pretty clear that there had been two attackers, both very skilled, and that they had come at Solen from two sides, by surprise. The most obvious clue was a dagger that the killers had left behind in Solen’s back. The Goonies took turns examining the dagger, looking for something distinctive about the long, thin, grey-steel blade. Then Eli got an idea, grabbed the dagger and ran outside into the dawn. When the early morning sunlight hit the blade it turned to dust in an instant.

“Drow?” asked Uri.

Eli nodded. Each remembered a time, a few months ago, after their victory at Spittlemarch, when Solen had used a magical water basin of scrying that had shown them Anathe, making his way through the underdark, with a Drow escort. It appeared that Anathe had brought his new allies into Dyvers with him.

Plans were made. Pavel prepared Soeln’s body for travel, and left in the early morning hours to try to find a cleric outside the city that would raise Solen, carrying a fortune in the Goonie’s financial reserves to pay for the service. At the same time, the Goonies themselves took up positions where they could watch the Dragonpriest compound, trying to figure out what was going on, and where the Drow assassins might behind.

Using her hat of disguise, Pah snuck into the construction site and managed to make off with one of the master plans for the construction site. The place was huge, and had a lot of different areas – a huge barracks area for the claws, the already complete temple, a small shopping and tavern district labeled Dragontown, and in one corner, designed to have thicker walls than the rest of the compound, there would be a area labeled the nursery. Positioned in the middle of the nursery there was a plan for a great tower – it would be the tallest building in the city when it was completed. At the moment it was only four stories tall, still quite an impressive building.

While this investigation was going on, Irk was off on another project. He had borrowed some pen and parchment from Pavel, and had been composing his own doggerel, which he then paid a handful of other bards to sing all around the city. Here is a sample:

The claws are sneaky, no-neck goons
they kill at night by the light of the moon;
they're a danger to all good Dyvers Folk,
They'd choose heir own other for a poke
They come to build a secret town
to tear tradition, the old ways, down
Assassins, cowards, at odds with law
to all that's good -- anath . . . ema

A bit of poking around, gathering information in the drinking holes frequented by the construction workers and soldiers in the area revealed some interesting information. To begin with, they heard that Anathe, Eldgrim, and several Claws (including Brottkill’s team) had left on the morning tide for parts unknown. And the heard that Anathe had already been using the tower for his residence and offices, over the objection of some of the local leaders of the faith. And one drunken guard talked about shadowy figures moving around the Tower after dark. That was enough to get the party interesting enough to investigate the tower after dark.

And so, they girded their loins and hit the outer walls after dark. Of course, scaling walls isn’t much of a challenge for most of the Goonies anymore . With two cloaks of arachnia, and a set of slippers of spider climb, most of the party was able to get up the wall with very little difficulty. Irk was actually strong enough to carry Minimonk and Pah up (Halflings fit into big pockets for Irk.)

Once in the nursery area, they found themselves in a garden under construction. The ground was freshly plowed, there were plans and trees waiting to be put into the ground, and the area was deathly quiet.

They made their way to the tower, and decided to scale the outside of the building and work their way in from the top, once again taking advantage of the spider climb abilities at their disposal.

Once they hit the roof, though, things got ugly fast. It turned out that they had not been as unobserved crossing the nursery grounds as they thought, and a pair of Drow assassins were waiting for them on the top level.

The two drow assassins gave the party a healthy bit of exercise, first knocking Pah out with bolts from hand crossbows coated with sleeping poison. They managed to aggravate the party before escaping to the lower levels. The group took control of the top level of the tower, and then made their way down into the lower levels after the drow.

The battle picked up again in the lower levels as the drow struck from hiding again and again, working to find flanking positions and take advantage of their sneak attacks. In the end, though they took a beating, they managed to defeat the drow assassins and get a quick look around. They found a chamber that looked like someone had been living in it and using it as a sort of bedroom/office. On a table they found several letters. (I’ll post the letters as separate posts).

With the letters and other look they could carry away, they managed to escape over the walls again and return to the Dragoon compound. Once there they found that the Dragoons that were left (only 8 and Nikolai, there was no sign of Alexei and four Dragoons that had been sent out into the taverns to gather a little information for the party) had moved their belongings onto the ship (the Mystery Machine, according to the freshly painted stern) and were peeking over the gunwales with their muskets, looking like armed yet terrified gophers. They were relieved to hear that the drow assassins were dead, but they were not willing to leave the ship.

And that left the party, without Solen, and Pavel, to try to figure out what their next move would be.
 
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The first stolen Letter

Anathe, my white son-

Eldgrim brings this letter with him – I can no longer keep him in the Underdark with me. He is restless and angry, and speaks of nothing but finding those who hurt him.

When he heard that you had reached Dyvers and found them there, and with their little gnome and a new unit of soldiers to support them, he would listen to reason no longer.

He will want revenge, but I fear that if he is as imprudent as he is likely to be, he will only get himself killed, or make trouble for the dragonfaith in Dyvers. You must keep a tight leash on him.

Your trip sounds like a good idea – take Eldgrim with you – the activity will do him some good, and it would be best to keep him out of Dyvers.

Yes, I know of Ashardalon – she was an ancient wyrm when I was a mere kit. Now, if she yet lives, she will sleep like mountains. But where there is one dragon there may be more, and I agree that this expedition sounds like a good risk, for the opportunity to bring back another powerful ally.

But be careful. The Others will let us play our games for a while, but eventually they will rise and take an interest in our machinations. You would think that the Others would enjoy the worship as we do, that the would support us. But instead they wait, biding their time, so they can act only when they know they can control the outcome. That is why we must never appear to weaken. Be strong, let the faith grow, but not too fast. And, foster parent to my seventh clutch, be a good mother dragon.

Sear
 

The Second Letter

My Loyal Anathe-

I was gratified to hear of your return to Dyvers – we had heard of the debacle in Spittlemarch and thought to never hear from you again. But you have survived, and with new allies as well, that is good news.

I understand that the faith is growing in Dyvers – by leaps and bounds. Of course, that is good news. Of course, we are much freer here to worship as we see fit, but I can only imagine how difficult it is to build a temple system in a nation that is working against your faith, overtly or covertly. I agree, it may soon be time for some big changes in Dyvers. Gather your forces, your resources. And if need be, you know you may call on me.

The band of meddlers you mentioned – the ones from the tale, the song – I know nothing more than what is in the stories about them. You should take care, though. They have popular support, clearly, and are resourceful, cunning, gifted opponents. Move against them carefully – divide and conquer, ambush, only strike when you can be assured a victory. Strike their allies and supporters. Avoid a toe-to-toe battle unless you have a great advantage over them.

With that in mind, I am sending you some friends. A band of troubleshooters, mercenaries I have used before. Their leader is a dwarf, Brottkill. He and his companions are making their way to Dyvers as you read this, and should arrived within a few days, a week at most. Were I you, I would make them Claws. That would give them a lot of freedom and credibility in the city.

But what you need most right now is allies. In my studies recently I have discovered some ancient mentions of another temple site of the old Dragon faith. The site, the stories go, is inhabited by a great wyrm named Ashardalon. He may still be there, or perhaps his descendents. You should put together an expedition, go to the temple site and see if you can win yourself more Dragon allies. Sear’s support is key, but while she is still trapped in the underdark she can do little more than finance your efforts. And Eldgrim, even though he is her son and has great gifts, he is no strategist, and it sounds like he is a bit unhinged after being trapped in the rockfall when the Spittlemarch crowd dropped a mountain on him. Perhaps he should not have been brought back.

You need dragons. Your plans are bold, but you will need the power of several old wyrms behind you to make it work. I hope you can find some.

Good luck. Trust Brottkill.

-Sentagon
 

The Third Letter

Sear-

Eldgrim arrived yesterday, and you are right, he has not improved since our long march with the Drow. I’m not entirely sure he does not blame me, somehow, for what happened to him.

The short folk have returned to Dyvers again – this time with a flying ship of some sort, telling wild stories about a trip to the moon to steal some fleece . . . the taverns are abuzz again, so much that I keep to my room as much as possible.

The training goes well. The Claws are already making patrols of the city, which will help our image, as we move on to the next phase of our construction in the city. Your gifts will buy us the greatest temple complex this city has ever seen – a city within the city, -- and the new seat of our power in the region. Thank you for your generosity.

As for the quest for Ashadalon, or her resting place, preparations are --


(RG -- The letter ended there, incomplete.)
 
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Just wanted to say that I really enjoy your story hour. I just randomly picked it up yesterday, and I find that the blend of adventure and off-the-wall OOC comments (like the reference to the Mystery Machine) is just right for my tastes.

Then I noticed that you didn't have any other posters commenting on such a fun story hour, so I registered just so I could make a post.

Keep up the good work!
 

RG-
An interesting tale; I just spent the better part of a very slow Friday at work reading it. A nice mix of action and humor. The whole Enterprise bit seemed a bit over-the-top but otherwise I appreciated your spirited telling of your group's exploits.

Game on,
Lazybones
 

Roll With It

Thanks for your comments, both of you. It's nice to know someone besides the players is reading this once in a while.

Lazybones, you're right to notice the tone shift in the enterprise stuff. One of the players took over running the game for those sessions, and there was a definite shift in tone -- can you tell he reads a lot of Terry Prachet?

Anyway, when I took over the game again it seemed like it would be more fun to absorb that material, rather than pretend it never happened. And now that the new Dungeon/Polyhedron has come out, with updated Spelljammer D20 rules, that's even easier to manage. Heaven forbid I should have to make any adaptions myself . . .

I hope you keep reading, and even more, I hope you still enjoy reading this story hour.

-rg
 

The Goon Show takes it on the Road

The Goon Show takes it on the Road

The heroes gathered on the deck of the Mystery Machine to lick their wounds and read through their booty. They’d taken quite a beating from the pair of drow assassins, although it could have been a lot worse. Pah, who had slept through the entire battle after succumbing to Drow poison in the opening exchange of missile fire, was sore from being carried around under Irk’s arm, and itching for a little more action – especially since she wanted to try out a new sword they had taken from the Drow – oddly enough, a sword that was not of drow manufacture, so it had not turned to dust in the morning sunlight.

The group read through the letters a couple of times, passing them, around and reading over each other’s shoulders. Meanwhile Nikolai was drinking himself blind, Alexei was no where to be found, and the last seven Dragoons clutched their muskets and refused to do more than peek over the gunwales of the ship when they thought they heard something passing.

While the debate was going on, they heard some movement and voices from down below the ship, in the compound where the Dragoons had trained earlier. Looking over the gunwales they saw a cluster of men in the uniform of the Claws of the Dragon. The leader, an officer and clearly a dragonpriest cleric (wearing blue-colored plate armor), looked up at the odd sight of a ship parked on dry land, in the middle of a city, and the faces peering out of it at him.

“Is this the barracks of the Dyvers Dragoons?” asked the officer.

“No.” shouted Irk.

“Yes,” shouted Pah.

Eli groaned and sat back out of sight, stringing his bow.

The officer introduced himself as Captain Thorvald of the Claws of the Dragon, official city watch of Dyvers and special investigator. “I understand there was a murder here the other night, we have come to investigate it.”

“Hey, we’re the city watch, too,” said Pah.

“We’re investigating the Murder,” said Irk.

“He’s only mostly dead” said Eli.

Thorvald looked a bit confused, with the three of them shouting down different things at him. He considered for a moment, then started again. “I have a charter signed by the Magister which gives me the authority to investigate murders within city walls."

"We have on too!" said Pah. Then she turned to the others. "We do have one, don't we?"

They all shrugged.

Thorvald was obviously getting impatient. "Is this the victim's lab? I understand he was found dead in his lab, I would like to investigate it. "

Irk, a little nearsighted like most dwarves, decided to get a closer look, and hopped down the gangplank to face the Claws. Pah and Eli followed him down.

Thorvald was unimpressed. Perhaps it was the sight of the other dragoons, peeking sheepishly over the gunwales of the ship behind the trio of short folk standing in front of him.

Thorvald held out his charter. "Here are my credentials."

Eli grinned. "We don’t need no stinking --

And Irk moved, quick as a snake, grabbing Thorvald's extended wrist and puling him into a grapple. Pah and Eli whipped out bow and pistols to cover the other Claws as Irk used his favorite rhetorical techniques to convince Thorvald that he should have stayed in bed that morning.

The Claw sergeant, a grizzled veteran, tried to talk his way out of the situation first, while Irk wrestled with the cleric, grinding his face into the ground and taking a few shots with elbows and knees when the opportunities presented themselves.

"Let him up."

Irk drove a thumb into the cleric's ribs. "No way."

Pah and Eli surveyed Thorvald's retainers, who were itching to move. Finally, the Sergeant couldn't take the tension anymore. "Git em!" he yelled, and sprang forward at Pah.

Pah's pistols went off. Irk's bow twanged. The Claws surged forward, a few dropping, but the rest closing, trying to drive Pah and Eli back so others could try to pull Irk off the Cleric. Irk, meanwhile, shrugged off their hands and continued to pummel the struggling cleric into unconsciousness, bashing the poor man's forehead into the ground repeatedly.

Eli managed to drop several of the Claw soldiers that tried to close on him and irk, while Pah emptied her pistols at the sergeant, who managed to avoid serious injury from them.

Nikolai, swaying a bit, bellowed down from the deck above that everyone should freeze, but no one did. He ordered the dragoons to fire, and an ineffective volley of gunfire flew overhead.

The Sergeant, hoping to get the cleric up and into the fight to even the odds a little with divine magic, turned his attention away from Pah and gave Irk a quick poke with his double-bladed sword. Irk looked up from his full nelson grip and scowled. "yer next, sonny," which he punctuated by driving the cleric's forehead into the ground again. With a crunch the cleric finally went limp, and Irk stood to face the sergeant. At that moment Pah stepped up behind the man and lightly touched his inner thigh with the flat of her new shortsword. "That's enough honey."

The sergeant, feeling the cold steel a little too close to his favorite set of genitals, dropped his sword and surrendered. Eli covered that last couple of Claw solders, who dropped their swords and moved slowly to try to help their fallen comrades.

In a few moments the group administered enough first aid to make sure than none of the claws that Eli had shot would actually die - - Eli went so far as to provide a couple of healing potions to the wounded guardsmen. The sergeant managed to get the mangled Cleric Thorvald upright again, slumped over his shoulder, and the troop began to shuffle for the exit.

Irk brushed some dust off his Dragoon tabard. "Hey, I thought you wanted to see the Lab?"

Thorvald, barely conscious, peered out through one swollen eyelid at Irk, then they turned and left.

As the Claws limped away, the heroes saw that there was another figure standing in the open gate to the Dragoon compound. A young man, dressed in the uniform of a paid messenger, and holding a small rolled piece of parchment.

The boy told them he had a message to deliver to Solen. Once they convinced the boy that they were Solen's seconds (after rejecting the next of kin argument) they sent the boy on his way and read the message. It was from a person named Tivitha, the master librarian of the Dyvers Library in the university quarter, and one of the members of the Magister's council, and she demanded that Solen drop everything and come to see her in the library immediately.

The trio decided to go in Solen's stead. Nikolai was not excited about letting them go, although he had never been able to exert any authority over the heroes, so he was hesitant to try to do so now. He was also powerfully drunk.

Pah yelled at him, telling him to get his men up and do something about securing the compound, and then the group headed off to go see Tivitha.
# # #

Entering the library, Pah quickly spotted several figures who did not seem to belong there, despite their apparent interest in the books on the shelves. They were men in armor, badly concealed in cloaks, and all in position to see the entrance. Pah tucked her thumbs into her belt near her pistols and walked over to one of them. "Hiya honey."

"Hello," he said, in a deep voice, pretending deep interest in the book he was holding.

"Do you want to tell me where Tivitha is?"

"You mean the head librarian? In her office, I imagine."

"You want to take me there?"

The man looked at her, hard. "And who are you?"

"I'm Pah. I'm a friend of Solen's."

"And the others?"

"Them too."

The guard looked around, made eye contact with a couple of other figures in the area, and then shrugged. " All right, lets go. "

The guard lead them up several flights of stairs, to the upper stacks of the library, which were reserved for special patrons and Library personnel. There were many more guards along the way, to whom their escort nodded as they passed. Then they entered a reading room, where a middle-aged human woman sat reading a large tome and studying some maps.

"Master Tivitha," he said. "These are friends of Solen."

Tivitha looked up. "Friends of. And where is Solen himself?"

"Dead." said Pah.

"Mostly dead." said Eli.

Tivitha was taken aback. "I see. And you are his champions? The ones they call the heroes of Spittlemarch, I presume?"

Pah nodded. "We have our own song. Have you heard it?"

In a few moments the party explained the situation with Solen's absence -- and his hopeful return in the near future -- and Tivitha nodded. "I hope he can return shortly. But we need to act now, and it was about you that we wanted to talk to Solen, so we can speak directly to you."


"We?" asked Irk.

At that moment Magister Larissa, stepped out of the shadows, where no one had seen her before. "We, yes. We must be very careful, for the Dragonpriests have spies everywhere. And their power grows every day."

The Magister and librarian were aware of some things -- like the recent arrival of Anathe, and his more recent departure on an important mission. And his new allies, Brottkill and his goons. They were not aware of Solen's death, nor of how close the Drow were to priest's actions, but they were not at all surprised. Comparing notes and the letters that the party had recovered from the tower with the information that the librarian and Magister had, they were able to put together a fairly complete picture of what Anathe was up to. He was traveling to the Bandit kingdoms -- now occupied by the empire of Iuz, to go to the great rift, where there was a great spire, an abandoned temple to an ancient dragon faith, that was rumored to be the home of the great wyrm Ashardalon. Anathe was trying to find more dragon allies there.

It would be a long trip for Anathe, and a difficult one. He would be able to cross the Nyr Dyv without too much difficulty, but once he was in the bandit kingdom he would not be able to travel openly as a dragonpriest. Iuz and his evil empire had no use for religions other than the worship of Iuz as a god, even if the faith were evil. So Anathe would have to have some allies there, and would have to travel without the power of the Dragon Faith behind him.

It was the Magister’s idea that the Dragoons take the Mystery Machine and try to stop Anathe, and put a stop to his mission, get to his target before him and neutralize it if possible.

Irk was game, and the others didn’t take any real convincing, either – they were already edging in that direction, anyway, with the clues they had been picking up in the Dragonpriest compound. The Magister was very interested in the maps that Pah had stolen, and spent some time going over them in great detail. Then, finally, it was time to go back to the Dragoon compound and get going after Anathe, who already had a two day lead.


At the compound they found that Nikolai had actually started to get some things done. He’d pulled the last of Solen’s gear and powder into the ship and had supplied the ship for a long journey.

There was another little surprise. Alexei was back, claiming to have spent the night with a barmaid, and that was why he hadn’t been around for so much. The goonies didn’t believe him, and there were a few sharp words spoken. Eli (who had some spellcasting ability as a ranger) took the helm and started to take off, as Irk pressed his debate with Alexei over where he had been and whether he was going on the trip with the rest of the dragoons. Eventually Irk settled the issue in standard Irk fashion, by grabbing him and tossing him over the side of the ship.

Nikolai didn’t argue with Irk’s decision to leave Alexei behind.

The group did some planning, once they were in mid-air. They wanted to give Uri some time to do some item creation while they were on the trip, but at the same time they had only two spellcasters on board, Uri and Eli. Each could take a twelve-hour shift at the helm, but no more, and that meant they would travel several days only half of the day, until Uri was done with his item creation work.

Tivitha had provided good maps of their goal, and although the trip took nearly two weeks, they managed to avoid a lot of trouble by flying high above the ground, out of reach of even most flying creatures. As they neared the rift, deep in the heart of the Bandit Kingdoms, they began to search the area from above for some sign of the temple site they were looking for.

They saw several warbands below them, all very interested in the flying ship. Those that had horses tried to keep up with the pace of the ship, which they were able to do until terrain or fatigue got in the way. At one point a flock of Harpies took an interest in the flying ship, and attacked, but they were driven off fairly easily.

After a few days of searching the Mystery Machine came upon a small camp at the mouth of a deep crevasse. There were about ten humans in and around the camp, but horses for twice that number. Far up the crevasse they could see the top of the tower that they had seen a drawing of in one of Tivitha’s book. The humans on the ground stared up at the ship, and the goonies stared down, until Pah made an important observation. The men all had double bladed swords, the trademark weapon of the Claws of the Dragon, even if they were not in uniform.

Eli steered the ship closer, and the men scattered, running for horses. Pah turned a small keg of powder into a crude bomb and dropped it over the side of the ship trying to disrupt their campsite, but only managed to wound a couple of Claws. Then Uri cast Evard’s Black tentacles, managing to encompass half of the men on the ground and most of the horses. By the time the ship was low enough to allow the party to hit the ground, those five Claws and the mounts had all been strangled to death.

The goonies did manage to shoot down one more escaping claw, and then raced to his side to try to keep him alive for questioning, but they were not up to the task of keeping the gravely wounded human alive without magical help, so he died.

Uri was especially proud of himself – Evard’s Black Tentacles is a nasty spell, and because he and the other Halflings are small creatures the tentacles leave them alone, so he was able to walk through the wriggling forest and check out the corpses of the Claws.

In the baggage left at the campsite they found a little more evidence of whose camp this was, including a truck that included a set of formal white clerical robes that were clearly Anathe's.

Irk relieved himself in the trunk.

Eli found a nearby formation that would hold the ship nearly upright and provide it a bit of cover from the weather. Nikolai, always pragmatic, volunteered to stay behind with the soldiers and protect the ship while the goonies went on ahead to check out the temple complex, catch up to and kill Anathe, Eldgrim, Brottkill, and the others. It sounded so simple, the way he said it.

So the three Halflings, the elf, and the dwarf, started gathering up their dungeon delving gear and getting ready to head off to the temple.

Next time: Why do the locals call it Nightfang Spire?
 
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Story Hour Mirror

Given all the server trouble these pages have been having, I wanted to point out to my small handful of readers that these session story hours are now also being archived on my web site, www.radiatinggnome.com/gaming/

check out the page -- for now it's woefully simple, and static, but it's there, and it won't be slow.
 

Into the Woods

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