In Hextor's Name (Completed 22 Oct 2004)

[arwink]

Zalich's Journal, Entry Seven

When the trauma's of the ruined monastery began, I wondered if there could be anything more frightening than the half-orcs that had accompanied my fellow survivor to the sure. Between the worship of nature's fury and the devotion to the discipline of Hextor, it seemed as though no other member of our small group could surpass their imposing sense of danger and bloodshed.

I'm not afraid to admit that I was wrong.

As Troilan scampered from the doors, squealing about the suddenly moving statues, Brodnak drew his great sword and leapt forward. He screamed like a wild animal, specks of spittle flying from his mouth. For a moment I thought he'd uttered some war-cry I wasn't familiar with, but the incoherent ranting continued as he hammered into the statue with a blow that would drop any ordinary man. I have seen men fight for their lives before, but nothing prepared me for the unceasing savagery of the warriors attack.


The foolishness of our actions in exploring further is only highlighted by the fact that only Kull and Troilan leapt forth to aid the barbarian in his hand-to-hand struggle with the statues. The animated creatures were impervious to most of our weapons, and Kull had to drop his shield and most of his defences to even stand a chance of punching through the statues hardened surface.

I did emerge from the stairwell with my rolling pin clenched in my hands, but the strength of a halfling is meaningless against a living statue and the only other weapon I had available, flasks of acid I kept handy in case of scrag attacks, would likely do little beyond burning my new comrades. It was a gruesome fight to watch, with mortal flesh being bruised and battered by fists of stone, but soon the savagery of Brodnak and Kull won out. Their claims of victory were heartfelt, but the reality of their wounds was hard to ignore.

The locked doors were attacked once again by Troilan's lockpicks, and this time her skill was enough to beat the mechanism. The room beyond was plain, filled with what remained of an Abbot's chamber. More importantly, when we peered through the door it was the first chance I'd had to notice the storm had abated during the turmoil of the fight with the statues. We were free of the ruined monastery as soon as we dared explore further.

It will never surprise me the narrow focus that the tall folk have when they set their mind to it. While I was still marvelling at the sky clearing above us, they set their mind to looting the ruined chamber as thoroughly as they could. They turned up a small amount of treasure, as well as a cloak of elven make. The quality of the workmanship was unmistakable to the trained eye, and it was quickly taken by Troilan as an aid to her scouting and stealth. There was some stitching along the hem that identified the cloak as a gift from the elves to someone important, but none of my comrades thought this detail important enough to pursue. It would appear that adventurers embrace the laws of salvage with more gusto than the common sailor. Not until the last of the loot had been distributed and the speculation of its value finished did they notice that the path to freedom was now open to us once more.

Tall-folk. Sometimes you have to wonder at their priorities. Where they thought we'd spend our new-found wealth if we died in the ruins is beyond me.Still, this wasn't enough to dishearten me. The storm was over, and on the morrow we would search for some sign of civilisation or transport that would return us to civilisation. Then I would be free of adventurers and their foolishness, ready to sign on to a new ship with a new destination of the horizon.

Of course if I'd known that our discovery of a boat and escape from the island would lead us to the town of Saltmarsh, I'd likely have burned the vessel before the others found it and take my chances with the corpses in the monastery for the next few months until help came.

If nothing else, the dead would have shown more common sense.

 

[Lela]

You know, I'm starting to wonder exactly what items and cash Zalich got. It seems convieniently left out. . .

 

[arwink]

From memory, Zalich got some cash. A couple of hundred gold all up, and he looked suitably bewildered when people handed it over.

on the whole, however, he didn't really notice items unless they were magic or interesting, and the elven cloak was both

 

[Lela]

From memory, Zalich got some cash. A couple of hundred gold all up, and he looked suitably bewildered when people handed it over.

on the whole, however, he didn't really notice items unless they were magic or interesting, and the elven cloak was both

LOL

 

[arwink]

Zalich's Journal, Entry Eight

What needs to be said about Saltmarsh that one could understand my retelling of what came next? How does one speak of a town that has earned such disbelief and irritation with its attitudes and general ineptness? I'm not sure that I can convey such things correctly, but I will try.

At first the place seemed a godsend. After three days trapped by the storm, and several more spent repairing an ageing boat near the monastery to enable our escape from the isle we were stranded on, any sign of civilisation was welcome. As we trudged along the trail that lead into town we marvelled at the site of clustered buildings, shepherds tending flocks and the marvellous sight of modern docks with fishing boats clustered. Despite the rain that seemed to soak us through to the very skin, Saltmarsh was a welcome stop-over in our journey back to civilisation.

Sometimes, we become enthused for the most idiotic of things, and after days of deprivation even stagnant water will appeal to a thirsty man. Had we been in more alert and cognitive state of mind, I'm sure we would have seen Saltmarsh for what it was - a backwater town clinging to the edge of a loathsome swamp, filled to the brim with ungrateful fools to stupid to realise that life was better elsewhere. I think Kull, at least, may have noted something akin to that as we approached as I heard him sniffing about the lack of defences and town guard, but even he seemed relatively pleased to see human beings once more (in a threatening and angry kind of way. Kull is a harsh man, or Orc if you will, but I'm sure there's a pleasant and decent man beneath the surface regardless of his abrasiveness).

Even with our expectations so badly warped by isolation, we might have paid more attention to the omens of ill luck that surrounded the town. The rain didn't stop for as long as we stayed there, and my first action upon stepping onto the slick town paths was to slip and damage my shoulder badly enough that I would spend the next week bedridden. Spells would be beyond my abilities, at least the ability to cast with any reliability, which is always a bad sign for a wizard no matter what his stature and skill. Of course, I failed to see this for the omen it was, instead rejoicing through my pain when I realised I would be spared any further contact with my companions from the shipwreck. "At last," I thought to myself as I convalesced in a room rented from the local inn, "I'll let myself heal, perfectly safe from the expectation of further adventure, and when I'm well I'll hire onto a passing ship and escape the fools forever."

My incapacitation didn't over-ride years of training, though, and while I recovered I spent a great deal of time expanding on the sudden awareness of my own skills that had awakened while I was in the monastery. I mastered the use of at least two new spells, one that would allow me to channel a shock of raw energy through my very touch and another that raised a shield of magical energy to protect me from foes.

When I was sure I'd mastered the long forgotten techniques taught to me by my master, I moved on to the task of scribing scroll after scroll. While there was little need for such items on the ship's I'd been travelling on previously, the shipwreck had taught me to be prepared for all eventualities - never again would I be without the power to defend myself should such an event happen again.

In the spare pages of my spellbook I even went so far as to jot notes of new spells I'd prepare to master, trying to bend the techniques I had memorised to their utmost, as well as exploring some way of melding the heating magic of my cantrips to a mundane kettle. All of this was beyond my current skills, but the tingling sense of anticipation at mastering new knowledge set me planning for things I had long ignored. At some point during my recovery, it occurred to me that my adventures had awakened a sudden desire to learn more about my spells and powers - the simple life of a cook and alchemist wouldn't satisfy as much as it once had.

Perhaps this is why, after my arm had healed and I was free to explore the town once more, I set out to find Kull, Brodnack, Troilan and the others and offered to help them in the mission they'd adopted. They seemed please to see me, and even went so far as to hand over some spellbooks they'd recovered from evil wizards they'd battled over the past week.

"There are smugglers in yonder hills," Kull explained (although I render his speech more prosaic here than it is in real life, in an effort to represent the inner man rather than the gruff exterior). The others were enthused with the plan of returning to some ruined house and flushing out the rest of the sea-scourge they'd discovered, but Brodnack disappeared with a strumpet he'd somehow taken a fancy too. There was a look of idiotic love in the young man's eyes, and I knew the heartache that he was destined to feel in the near future.

A life on the sea teaches you such things, you understand. With so many of us taking to the waves to avoid the memories of the lost or unrequited, you soon find the signs of trouble easy to spot. We would not see Brodnack for several days, by which time he had a lighter purse and a taint of civilisation in his innocent barbarian worldview.

 

[Capellan]

I think Kull, at least, may have noted something akin to that as we approached as I heard him sniffing about the lack of defences and town guard, but even he seemed relatively pleased to see human beings once more (in a threatening and angry kind of way. Kull is a harsh man, or Orc if you will, but I'm sure there's a pleasant and decent man beneath the surface regardless of his abrasiveness)

Kull certainly sees himself as being a decent person. Pleasant is taking thng litle too far, however

"There are smugglers in yonder hills," Kull explained

I believe my wording was actually "There are smugglers in the ruins: we're going to kill them."

 

[Lela]

I believe my wording was actually "There are smugglers in the ruins: we're going to kill them."

A lot. You're going to kill them a lot.

 

[Joshua Randall]

Or as (contact) would put it:

You're going to kill the Eric's Grandma out of them.

 

[arwink]

Zalich's Journey, Entry Nine

The smugglers hide-out turned out to be an abandoned building not far from the town, on a bluff overlooking the sea. Experience led me to guess that there would be caves below, at see level, as it would make getting good in and out of the area easier and less noticeable than carting them up and down a cliff face.

The others explained that the smugglers had been using an illusionist to create the pretence that the house was haunted, a task which likely would have worked on anyone except the dauntless fools who call themselves adventurers and live only to risk the gift of life. Their previous foray had cleared much of the upper levels, and some caves below, but it had also garnered Kull some followers in the form of two zombies that he'd left guarding the building.

There is nothing that can describe the feeling that comes when you realise an ally is willing to use the dead for his own ends. I raised some concerns, which Kull dismissed with the argument that he hadn't been the one who animated them, but I confess that I still felt uneasy. Pragmatism is one thing, but the desecration of the soul is a serious offence and should not be written off with slick arguments and justifications.

It was decided that the upper levels should be explored first, although they proved to be relatively clear. There was a bound and naked traveller in one of the rooms the adventurers had failed to clear on their last trip, but his story was dubious and he seemed intimidated by the wandering corpses that accompanied us. He tried time and again to convince us that he was a traveller, waylaid by the householders, but his demeanour screamed smuggler and we were reluctant to arm him. Without proof, we couldn't slay him out of hand, so eventually we ran him off and told him to head towards the nearest city if he wanted to live.

The floor of many of the upper levels were weakened with age, making it perilous for my more heavily armoured companions to tread the boards - something that was discovered when Kull and his heavy banded armour took a brief dive through a weak patch of floor.

I was nominated to explore due to my light weight, but I took the added precaution of casting a spider climb and avoiding the decayed floor altogether. We found the location where the smugglers signalled their fellows for pickup, as well as a room that contained a giant spider web, but both of these were insignificant challenges compared to the ancient buildings attic.

We explored this level with reluctance, and almost paid for our curiosity with our life. Stirges nested there, bloodsucking insects of unusual size. They stole a great deal of blood from many of my fellows, and nearly killed me when I was struck by a long proboscis, but the advantage of having suicidal companions who revel in combat is that ordinarily threatening creatures are considered minor inconveniences. They were slain quickly, and a small chest full of minor magic was uncovered. Potions mostly, as well as a few obscure items that we would have to identify later.

(One of these was a Feather token, the innovation of the Wizard Quaal, that would turn into a whip of great power that could animate and attack on its own. When we split this equipment later, it was decided that the feather token should be mine due to my lack of skill with a blade. I am not one to argue with such logic, even if I dislike the presumption that I would continue to aid them once the smugglers were defeated. I have a hatred for those who use the sea to prey on others, but common adventuring is beyond my skill or my desires.)

On the whole, it took less than an hour or two to clear the upper levels, and despite both myself and a one or two of the others suffering from a lack of blood, Kull pushed for us to continue our exploration of the caves below the manor. It was a plan devoid of common sense, but the smugglers plans and habits were known to us and we were working on a short frame of time, so there was some logic in it despite it's lunacy. With more courage than brains, we headed below.

 

[arwink]

Zalich's Journal, Entry Ten

It turns out that my companions had done a fairly thorough job on the sea caves on their last visit to the area. They claimed that a smuggler had fled down here, and that this is what we were chasing, but the only danger we found was a room full of green slime that was easily avoiding with a little common sense. Of course, common sense is not the greatest asset of this motley band, and the druid was badly wounded by slime-burns by the time the threat had been dealt with.

More intriguing was a underground dock that we found at the base of the caves, obviously the place where the smugglers had been loading and unloading their belongings. There was even a small boat left behind - obviously the craft used to transport goods from a larger vessel.

The others pronounced the Saltmarsh side of the smugglers operation crushed with this, and we returned to town. I find the choice of language interesting - Kull is obviously having an effect on those around him. In either case, they had done something worthy and worthwhile to aid the town, and they spoke of commandeering the smugglers larger vessel as the second part of their plan, so I figured I would continue to aid them for a short while at least.

There were few boats passing through Saltmarsh I could sign on to (something which is of no great surprise now that I have spent some time in the place), and it feels good to try my skills against such sea-scourge as smugglers once more. My years against the Silver-Arrow are some of the best I remember, and the possibility of continuing the crews work is always appealing.

We knew that the smuggling operation would have the larger ship arrive at full moon, and that the signal needed to be given from one of the upstairs rooms of the house, so a plan for assault was drawn up. The village offered some aid - a pair of warriors who collected taxes and virtually doubled as the town guard - but they were land-folk and likely to be of little use on the rolling deck of a ship. We decided that they would be used as a distraction, a method of boxing the ship in should we fail and the smugglers try to escape.

We had a few days to prepare, and the town priest offered some aid in healing the wounds given to us by stirges and green slime, so we took it. Planning, waiting, and pleading with the warrior Brodnak to leave the comforts of the harlot he was still ensconced with took up the bulk of our time until the night of the full moon came.