the Jester
Legend
Brain said:Don't let Nara hear that. I don't think she'd like being mistaken for Naomi.
Wow! I just shoved my entire leg and torso in my mouth!
As Brain pointed out, I misstated the situation slightly. My bad!
-
The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Of Sound Mind the Halfling Way
- Thread starter the Jester
- Start date
Wow! I just shoved my entire leg and torso in my mouth!
As Brain pointed out, I misstated the situation slightly. My bad!
hippiejediz
First Post
Oops! Let's not confuse the fat chick with the hot chick.
the Jester
Legend
hippiejediz said:Oops! Let's not confuse the fat chick with the hot chick.
Although you have to admit, hot as you are, she's fatter than you are hot.
hippiejediz
First Post
the Jester said:
Yeah, no contest.
the Jester
Legend
Return to Strogass
8/13/372 O.L.G., 3:30 p.m., at sea north of Strogass
From the crow’s nest one of the sailors cried, “Land ho!”
On deck, Beau and Nara exchang a glance. Strogass. It has to be. They were due.
Soon- hopefully- with luck, and apparently with cornbread, they would find the Promised Land at last.
Our heroes gather in the Captain’s cabin, filling the small room to bursting. Captain Tarth winces and sighs, then gestures to a large set of sea charts pinned up on the wall. “We should be just about here,” she growls, her finger stabbing out at the northern port city of Lox Pentor. “We can put in for resupply here, though who knows what the situation is. Still, there appears to be some maritime and fishing traffic, so things can’t be too awful bad.”
“I wonder what’s going on on Strogass,” muses Naomi. “It seems like it’s been forever since I was there.”
“It’s hard to be sure, what with the Lord Obliviax stuff,” Federico whines. There is a general grumbling chorus of agreement.
“But hopefully we’ll find the Promised Land soon!” Ari exclaims, and everyone’s hearts lighten.
It is nearly dusk by the time the Promised Land ties up along the piers of Lox Pentor. Our heroes get off the ship and onto land for the first time in- has it been weeks? It certainly seems like it. Walking on solid ground again, Naomi lets out a deep sigh. Although she certainly took the cook for a ride or two across dinner’s ingredients, the trip was mostly a boring expanse of time punctuated by the occasional worthy moment (such as when the party finally taught Tron to poop off the edge of the deck rather than in their cabins). She is itching for something different. “We should find somewhere good to eat,” she suggests.
The party end up at a fancy restaurant called Lambs. Naomi uses her metamorphose liquids spell to change a bucket of water into chocolate syrup, and Beau immediately pours everyone a shot of it. Meanwhile our heroes are served an exotic frozen creamy treat the likes of which they have never before seen or heard. Ari asks for the secret and is denied, and when several of our heroes press to meet the chef, they are denied as well.
“He’s got to be a halfling,” Nara remarks.
Naomi waves the waiter over and asks for shredded coconut. He sniffs and proclaims that they do not serve it.
“I’m never eating here again!” Naomi belches.
“We can’t get it fresh,” the waiter sniffs. “We serve only the finest ingredients.”
She gives him a measuring look. “Oh,” she says, her tone more respectful. “Well, I guess I can understand that...” After a contemplative moment, she inquires about breakfast.
The waiter gives her a polite smile. “We,” he declares, “have over 20 different ways of preparing bacon.”
That is the moment when all resistance breaks on our heroes’ part.
“Where’s the nearest inn?” demands Naomi.
“Right across the street, madam,” replies the waiter.
“Excellent!” proclaims Naomi. “I have to use the crapper.”
They spend over 1200 gp on dinner that night, and vow to spend much, much more tomorrow. When they leave, Ari steals some spices, but nobody seems to notice- or care.
***
9/1/372 O.L.G., 9 a.m., Lamb’s in Lox Pentor
Breakfast is all our heroes could have asked for and more. It is unbelievable, and only increases our heroes’ desire to meet the chef. Could it be a Bakeswell, or better yet, a Flapjacks?*
“It would be creepy if the chef was a human or something,” Ari says with an uncomfortable chuckle.
“I wonder where that Tron guy is,” Beau says.
“We’re probably better off not knowing,” Ari answers wryly.
“Strange that he’d miss breakfast, though,” Nara nods.
“He’s probably off getting high on crahk,” Ari sighs.
Although Ari is correct that the most likely thing that Tron would be doing is smoking crakh at this point, in fact Tron is trying to score crahk. And instead of scoring crahk, Tron is getting ripped off to the tune of 200 gp, then getting angry, attacking some thugs and ultimately being knocked unconscious by one of the neighborhood’s more notable citizens, who took offense at Tron’s abuse of the grocer’s tomatoes.
Regardless, breakfast is fantastic.
“We’ll meet again for lunch, right, buddies?” asks Erasmuz. “This place is great!”
Our heroes can all get behind that, so there is quick agreement, and then the party disperses throughout Lox Pentor to take care of various individual concerns and needs. Some of them simply buy a thing or two; others take a bit more active part. Rock gets into an unarmed cage fight with an elf called the Sissy- who casts spells in the fight! Rock still manages to beat the Sissy into unconsciousness, but it’s not nearly the one-sided fight that he had expected.
When it’s time for lunch, a fellow that most of our heroes hadn’t expected shows up. He’s a human, and Erasmuz greets him warmly. Apparently, the two of them had become acquainted earlier in the day.
“My name is Surly,” the fellow says, “and I might have something you’d be interested in.”
“Oh yeah?” asks Ari. “What’s that?”
“A map,” the human replies, “to a set of lost halfling ruins. Actually, they were a lost race of halflings, too, called the jerren.”
Naomi cocks her head. “Really,” she says, clearly interested. “I’ve heard of these jerren. Go on, I’m intrigued.”
“Yes, the fellow who gave me the map is the one who made it. He’d sailed to these ruins and investigated a little bit.”
“Could you put us in touch with him?” inquires Ari.
“Alas, no, he’s, ahem, permanently out of touch, if you know what I mean.” Surly draws a single finger across his throat. “But I assure you, his word could be trusted! And his chart is quite precise.”
“How far of a journey would it be?” Naomi asks.
“You might say,” Surly replies slowly, “that it is... startlingly close by.”
“Even better,” murmurs Nara.
“Yes, my friends raved about what he found for days. It was mostly incomprehensible to me- weird stuff, cornbread and stuff like that.”
“Cornbread, you say?” Naomi stands up. “How much for the map?”
Next Time: Our heroes begin their investigations of the Sunken Temple of the Jerren!
*The party began as a group of Flapjacks, and still somewhat identifies that way. Of the pcs, I believe only Federico is technically a Flapjacks.
8/13/372 O.L.G., 3:30 p.m., at sea north of Strogass
From the crow’s nest one of the sailors cried, “Land ho!”
On deck, Beau and Nara exchang a glance. Strogass. It has to be. They were due.
Soon- hopefully- with luck, and apparently with cornbread, they would find the Promised Land at last.
Our heroes gather in the Captain’s cabin, filling the small room to bursting. Captain Tarth winces and sighs, then gestures to a large set of sea charts pinned up on the wall. “We should be just about here,” she growls, her finger stabbing out at the northern port city of Lox Pentor. “We can put in for resupply here, though who knows what the situation is. Still, there appears to be some maritime and fishing traffic, so things can’t be too awful bad.”
“I wonder what’s going on on Strogass,” muses Naomi. “It seems like it’s been forever since I was there.”
“It’s hard to be sure, what with the Lord Obliviax stuff,” Federico whines. There is a general grumbling chorus of agreement.
“But hopefully we’ll find the Promised Land soon!” Ari exclaims, and everyone’s hearts lighten.
It is nearly dusk by the time the Promised Land ties up along the piers of Lox Pentor. Our heroes get off the ship and onto land for the first time in- has it been weeks? It certainly seems like it. Walking on solid ground again, Naomi lets out a deep sigh. Although she certainly took the cook for a ride or two across dinner’s ingredients, the trip was mostly a boring expanse of time punctuated by the occasional worthy moment (such as when the party finally taught Tron to poop off the edge of the deck rather than in their cabins). She is itching for something different. “We should find somewhere good to eat,” she suggests.
The party end up at a fancy restaurant called Lambs. Naomi uses her metamorphose liquids spell to change a bucket of water into chocolate syrup, and Beau immediately pours everyone a shot of it. Meanwhile our heroes are served an exotic frozen creamy treat the likes of which they have never before seen or heard. Ari asks for the secret and is denied, and when several of our heroes press to meet the chef, they are denied as well.
“He’s got to be a halfling,” Nara remarks.
Naomi waves the waiter over and asks for shredded coconut. He sniffs and proclaims that they do not serve it.
“I’m never eating here again!” Naomi belches.
“We can’t get it fresh,” the waiter sniffs. “We serve only the finest ingredients.”
She gives him a measuring look. “Oh,” she says, her tone more respectful. “Well, I guess I can understand that...” After a contemplative moment, she inquires about breakfast.
The waiter gives her a polite smile. “We,” he declares, “have over 20 different ways of preparing bacon.”
That is the moment when all resistance breaks on our heroes’ part.
“Where’s the nearest inn?” demands Naomi.
“Right across the street, madam,” replies the waiter.
“Excellent!” proclaims Naomi. “I have to use the crapper.”
They spend over 1200 gp on dinner that night, and vow to spend much, much more tomorrow. When they leave, Ari steals some spices, but nobody seems to notice- or care.
***
9/1/372 O.L.G., 9 a.m., Lamb’s in Lox Pentor
Breakfast is all our heroes could have asked for and more. It is unbelievable, and only increases our heroes’ desire to meet the chef. Could it be a Bakeswell, or better yet, a Flapjacks?*
“It would be creepy if the chef was a human or something,” Ari says with an uncomfortable chuckle.
“I wonder where that Tron guy is,” Beau says.
“We’re probably better off not knowing,” Ari answers wryly.
“Strange that he’d miss breakfast, though,” Nara nods.
“He’s probably off getting high on crahk,” Ari sighs.
Although Ari is correct that the most likely thing that Tron would be doing is smoking crakh at this point, in fact Tron is trying to score crahk. And instead of scoring crahk, Tron is getting ripped off to the tune of 200 gp, then getting angry, attacking some thugs and ultimately being knocked unconscious by one of the neighborhood’s more notable citizens, who took offense at Tron’s abuse of the grocer’s tomatoes.
Regardless, breakfast is fantastic.
“We’ll meet again for lunch, right, buddies?” asks Erasmuz. “This place is great!”
Our heroes can all get behind that, so there is quick agreement, and then the party disperses throughout Lox Pentor to take care of various individual concerns and needs. Some of them simply buy a thing or two; others take a bit more active part. Rock gets into an unarmed cage fight with an elf called the Sissy- who casts spells in the fight! Rock still manages to beat the Sissy into unconsciousness, but it’s not nearly the one-sided fight that he had expected.
When it’s time for lunch, a fellow that most of our heroes hadn’t expected shows up. He’s a human, and Erasmuz greets him warmly. Apparently, the two of them had become acquainted earlier in the day.
“My name is Surly,” the fellow says, “and I might have something you’d be interested in.”
“Oh yeah?” asks Ari. “What’s that?”
“A map,” the human replies, “to a set of lost halfling ruins. Actually, they were a lost race of halflings, too, called the jerren.”
Naomi cocks her head. “Really,” she says, clearly interested. “I’ve heard of these jerren. Go on, I’m intrigued.”
“Yes, the fellow who gave me the map is the one who made it. He’d sailed to these ruins and investigated a little bit.”
“Could you put us in touch with him?” inquires Ari.
“Alas, no, he’s, ahem, permanently out of touch, if you know what I mean.” Surly draws a single finger across his throat. “But I assure you, his word could be trusted! And his chart is quite precise.”
“How far of a journey would it be?” Naomi asks.
“You might say,” Surly replies slowly, “that it is... startlingly close by.”
“Even better,” murmurs Nara.
“Yes, my friends raved about what he found for days. It was mostly incomprehensible to me- weird stuff, cornbread and stuff like that.”
“Cornbread, you say?” Naomi stands up. “How much for the map?”
Next Time: Our heroes begin their investigations of the Sunken Temple of the Jerren!
*The party began as a group of Flapjacks, and still somewhat identifies that way. Of the pcs, I believe only Federico is technically a Flapjacks.
the Jester
Legend
Just off the north coast of Strogass, 3:30 p.m.
The Promised Land sails along, heading west. They are following the map that they purchased from Surly- and their destination is a mere twelve miles west of Lox Pentor. Indeed, from the crow’s nest Ari cries out, “There they are!”
The map shows the sunken temple in the cradle of a series of five small offshore islands about twelve miles west of Lox Pentor. The islets are about two miles offshore. As the ship approaches, Captain Tarth barks, “Back oars!! Furl the sails, take ‘em down, boys!! There are shoals ahead!”
The ship slows to a halt and drops anchor. Our heroes and Captain Tarth consult. “We can send you to the isles in a launch, but be careful,” Tarth warns. “The sea is choppy and I can see some rocky bits just under the water. If you aren’t careful, you’ll scrape and hole the launch.”
“I can wood shape,” Ari notes.
“And I can make whole,” Nara adds.
“That should help,” acknowledges Captain Tarth. “Good luck to ye.”
“Send a couple of the men with us,” urges Nara. “We need experienced sailors to help us navigate these treacherous waters.”
With a scowl, Captain Tarth agrees. She sends Lanzor and Stupid with them. Lanzor is a scowling man who once captained a Strogassian naval ship, and Stupid is a foul-tempered female half-orc who is, as might be expected from her moniker, extraordinarily stupid. “They can both fight well, and if ye run into trouble you need someone that can fight with ye. But take care of them as best ye can,” Tarth says.
Then our heroes are off in a pair of launches. The five islets that they are approaching form a rough semicircle. As they move towards the isles, Ari assumes eagle form and flies overhead, taking in the aerial view. When he returns to halfling form, he tells his friends, “There are definitely ruins on the islets, but it doesn’t seem like there is much at all left. But in the center of the isles, there’s a central area that looks noticeably different than the surrounding water. It looks deeper. I suspect it’s some kind of well or something.”
“Well, we should check out the islands first,” Erasmuz argues. “We need to prepare if we’re going to go under water.”
“I have one water breathing prepared already,” both Ari and Nara say at once. They both grin.
“I still think we should do the islets first,” Naomi declares.
“I agree,” Rock nods.
“Okay,” says Federico, “let’s just head for the closest one and work our way around.”
The launches edge their way towards shore. Our heroes have thoughtfully split their number so that each boat has someone who can attempt a repair, and as the waves and chop knock the launches about across the shoals, this proves a wise precaution. Both vessels slam, scrape and catch on various rocks and growths, and soon they both have water bubbling in. Both are fixed, but Stupid’s skills as a navigator are being sorely tested. The launch she’s piloting is swept sidelong into a jagged rock uprise, and the entire boat shivers as the side is staved in.
“Aw crap!” cries Ari. He quickly bestows water breathing on everyone, and they walk under the water to the first isle.
The vessel that Lanzor pilots fares better. He rages back at the waters, pushing with oars and pole against rocks and waves alike. Though it is a rocky ride, he brings the boat in to the islet intact. Soon our heroes are ashore- though cold and wet.
“Let’s look around,” suggests Brother Yip.
The first islet yields one interesting ruin: the remains of a lighthouse. The lower 15’ of a 30’ radius tower remains intact. Our heroes find that the ceilings are only about 4 ½’ high, sufficient for halflings but a terrible trial for bigger creatures. “This could have been built by jerren,” Naomi says thoughtfully, hopefully. The ground floor of the lighthouse is a shambles, with a layer of silt about 2” deep strewn across the ground. Shellfish and seaweed litter the place. A quick look around allows our heroes to note that there are lots of bones and shells that are cracked open and empty and seem to indicate the presence of a nearby predator. The central 10’ of the lighthouse is a solid support plug. A stone stairway ascends along this shaft.
“Let’s see what’s upstairs,” Ari says, and leads the way up.
At the top of the stairs, where the second floor opens up, Ari is suddenly attacked. Clustered around the stairway are four marine trolls! Ari yelps as they begin tearing into him. He tries to cast barkskin on the defensive, but his concentration is shattered by the threatening posture of the scrags surrounding him. Behind him Yip shouts, “Fall back!” This sounds like a good idea to Ari, who drops back down the stairs.
This draws the trolls down, but it also allows our heroes to work together, and Naomi gets the chance to launch a fireball that burns the trolls fiercely! It would seem that her elemental powers are continuing to grow by leaps and bounds.
The fight is fierce, but it does not last long. Our heroes have grown powerful over the course of their adventures. The scrags fall to the self-declared Halfling Action Militia- H.A.M.
After slaying the trolls, our heroes check the debris of their lair, where they find a great deal of treasure, including a magic wand and a pair of magical gloves. The northern half of the room is dominated by a great metal vat with a spigot. When our curious heroes check it, they find that it is rusted shut. Tron forces it open, but breaks it off in the process, and lamp oil begins pouring sluggishly out of the vat and onto the floor.
“Crap!” exclaims Naomi.
“Let’s take a quick look at the third floor,” suggests Ari, bustling up the stairs. The third floor turns out to be exposed to the elements; it has no ceiling, and the guano of seagulls marks the place as a likely spot for gulls to hang out. There is nothing of value up there.
The party reconvenes outside, in the open air. Lanzor and Stupid squint at the sky. The sun will be going down in another few hours.
“We could probably walk to the next isle underwater,” Ari muses. “Reduce the danger to the remaining launch.”
Nara nods. “I could give everyone water breathing that doesn’t already have it. It lasts for hours. We should have plenty of time; it didn’t take us long to search this isle, and the next one looks to be about the same size.”
“Sounds good to me,” Tron says. “Maybe we can get some money for somethin’ we find over there.”
Thus, about forty minutes later, the party emerges from the water on the next isle.
“Oh,” says Federico, “I forgot my feather.” He turns to Stupid and suggests, “Hey, will you walk back to the other isle and get my feather from the launch please?”
Stupid scratcher her head. She shuffles her feet. And she turns and walks back into the turbulent sea.
“Stupid!” calls Lanzor. He glares at Federico as the half-orc submerges, ignoring him.
Federico shrugs and gives a goofy smile.
On the second islet, our heroes find a huge crab, which they roast with fire elementals. They are startled when a chuul emerges from a deep pool nearby and attacks them; however, they are more than a match for it. After some discussion, they decide not to eat the chuul, but man! That crab is tasty.
As night falls, the party discusses their strategy for the morrow. “We should check out the central well,” someone suggests, “maybe tie some gnomes on a rope and dangle them over the well.”*
Clearly this plan needs refinement, but that’s a subject for tomorrow.
Next Time: Our heroes continue their explorations of the Sunken Temple of the Jerren!
*Gnome on a rope has been a recurring joke in my campaign for decades of real time now. I think it all started with the gnome Gepp, back in my Early Years campaign, who lost a jaw that way.
The Promised Land sails along, heading west. They are following the map that they purchased from Surly- and their destination is a mere twelve miles west of Lox Pentor. Indeed, from the crow’s nest Ari cries out, “There they are!”
The map shows the sunken temple in the cradle of a series of five small offshore islands about twelve miles west of Lox Pentor. The islets are about two miles offshore. As the ship approaches, Captain Tarth barks, “Back oars!! Furl the sails, take ‘em down, boys!! There are shoals ahead!”
The ship slows to a halt and drops anchor. Our heroes and Captain Tarth consult. “We can send you to the isles in a launch, but be careful,” Tarth warns. “The sea is choppy and I can see some rocky bits just under the water. If you aren’t careful, you’ll scrape and hole the launch.”
“I can wood shape,” Ari notes.
“And I can make whole,” Nara adds.
“That should help,” acknowledges Captain Tarth. “Good luck to ye.”
“Send a couple of the men with us,” urges Nara. “We need experienced sailors to help us navigate these treacherous waters.”
With a scowl, Captain Tarth agrees. She sends Lanzor and Stupid with them. Lanzor is a scowling man who once captained a Strogassian naval ship, and Stupid is a foul-tempered female half-orc who is, as might be expected from her moniker, extraordinarily stupid. “They can both fight well, and if ye run into trouble you need someone that can fight with ye. But take care of them as best ye can,” Tarth says.
Then our heroes are off in a pair of launches. The five islets that they are approaching form a rough semicircle. As they move towards the isles, Ari assumes eagle form and flies overhead, taking in the aerial view. When he returns to halfling form, he tells his friends, “There are definitely ruins on the islets, but it doesn’t seem like there is much at all left. But in the center of the isles, there’s a central area that looks noticeably different than the surrounding water. It looks deeper. I suspect it’s some kind of well or something.”
“Well, we should check out the islands first,” Erasmuz argues. “We need to prepare if we’re going to go under water.”
“I have one water breathing prepared already,” both Ari and Nara say at once. They both grin.
“I still think we should do the islets first,” Naomi declares.
“I agree,” Rock nods.
“Okay,” says Federico, “let’s just head for the closest one and work our way around.”
The launches edge their way towards shore. Our heroes have thoughtfully split their number so that each boat has someone who can attempt a repair, and as the waves and chop knock the launches about across the shoals, this proves a wise precaution. Both vessels slam, scrape and catch on various rocks and growths, and soon they both have water bubbling in. Both are fixed, but Stupid’s skills as a navigator are being sorely tested. The launch she’s piloting is swept sidelong into a jagged rock uprise, and the entire boat shivers as the side is staved in.
“Aw crap!” cries Ari. He quickly bestows water breathing on everyone, and they walk under the water to the first isle.
The vessel that Lanzor pilots fares better. He rages back at the waters, pushing with oars and pole against rocks and waves alike. Though it is a rocky ride, he brings the boat in to the islet intact. Soon our heroes are ashore- though cold and wet.
“Let’s look around,” suggests Brother Yip.
The first islet yields one interesting ruin: the remains of a lighthouse. The lower 15’ of a 30’ radius tower remains intact. Our heroes find that the ceilings are only about 4 ½’ high, sufficient for halflings but a terrible trial for bigger creatures. “This could have been built by jerren,” Naomi says thoughtfully, hopefully. The ground floor of the lighthouse is a shambles, with a layer of silt about 2” deep strewn across the ground. Shellfish and seaweed litter the place. A quick look around allows our heroes to note that there are lots of bones and shells that are cracked open and empty and seem to indicate the presence of a nearby predator. The central 10’ of the lighthouse is a solid support plug. A stone stairway ascends along this shaft.
“Let’s see what’s upstairs,” Ari says, and leads the way up.
At the top of the stairs, where the second floor opens up, Ari is suddenly attacked. Clustered around the stairway are four marine trolls! Ari yelps as they begin tearing into him. He tries to cast barkskin on the defensive, but his concentration is shattered by the threatening posture of the scrags surrounding him. Behind him Yip shouts, “Fall back!” This sounds like a good idea to Ari, who drops back down the stairs.
This draws the trolls down, but it also allows our heroes to work together, and Naomi gets the chance to launch a fireball that burns the trolls fiercely! It would seem that her elemental powers are continuing to grow by leaps and bounds.
The fight is fierce, but it does not last long. Our heroes have grown powerful over the course of their adventures. The scrags fall to the self-declared Halfling Action Militia- H.A.M.
After slaying the trolls, our heroes check the debris of their lair, where they find a great deal of treasure, including a magic wand and a pair of magical gloves. The northern half of the room is dominated by a great metal vat with a spigot. When our curious heroes check it, they find that it is rusted shut. Tron forces it open, but breaks it off in the process, and lamp oil begins pouring sluggishly out of the vat and onto the floor.
“Crap!” exclaims Naomi.
“Let’s take a quick look at the third floor,” suggests Ari, bustling up the stairs. The third floor turns out to be exposed to the elements; it has no ceiling, and the guano of seagulls marks the place as a likely spot for gulls to hang out. There is nothing of value up there.
The party reconvenes outside, in the open air. Lanzor and Stupid squint at the sky. The sun will be going down in another few hours.
“We could probably walk to the next isle underwater,” Ari muses. “Reduce the danger to the remaining launch.”
Nara nods. “I could give everyone water breathing that doesn’t already have it. It lasts for hours. We should have plenty of time; it didn’t take us long to search this isle, and the next one looks to be about the same size.”
“Sounds good to me,” Tron says. “Maybe we can get some money for somethin’ we find over there.”
Thus, about forty minutes later, the party emerges from the water on the next isle.
“Oh,” says Federico, “I forgot my feather.” He turns to Stupid and suggests, “Hey, will you walk back to the other isle and get my feather from the launch please?”
Stupid scratcher her head. She shuffles her feet. And she turns and walks back into the turbulent sea.
“Stupid!” calls Lanzor. He glares at Federico as the half-orc submerges, ignoring him.
Federico shrugs and gives a goofy smile.
On the second islet, our heroes find a huge crab, which they roast with fire elementals. They are startled when a chuul emerges from a deep pool nearby and attacks them; however, they are more than a match for it. After some discussion, they decide not to eat the chuul, but man! That crab is tasty.
As night falls, the party discusses their strategy for the morrow. “We should check out the central well,” someone suggests, “maybe tie some gnomes on a rope and dangle them over the well.”*
Clearly this plan needs refinement, but that’s a subject for tomorrow.
Next Time: Our heroes continue their explorations of the Sunken Temple of the Jerren!
*Gnome on a rope has been a recurring joke in my campaign for decades of real time now. I think it all started with the gnome Gepp, back in my Early Years campaign, who lost a jaw that way.
the Jester
Legend
9/3/372 O.L.G., 9 a.m., a small islet off the shore of Strogass
Our heroes spend the morning in discussion. They are pretty sure that something nasty lives in the deep well between the islands. It is both logical and obvious. The only question is, what are they going to do about it?
Ari casts commune with nature and determines that there are several highly unnatural things under the water- one of them, especially, seems to lead the others. It feels old- so old that it has become native to Cydra, even if it was born... elsewhere. Frowning unhappily, he states, “I think this area needs a cleansing.”
The suggestion of hooking a party member onto a rope and using them for bait kicks off an interesting line of reasoning. Given that the party doesn’t have a gnome, the plan’s next permutation instead involves dumping some kind of soup or stew down into the water in order to lure out whatever is down there. This further evolves until someone suggests cooking up something foul and poisonous to either draw out whatever is down there or to weaken (or even kill) it.
“Well, while I don’t endorse the use of poison all the time, especially when we’re just dumping it into the environment,” Ari says slowly, “I think in this case it may be warranted. I doubt whether there are many natural creatures living down there now anyway.”
“Well, gathering stuff to do that probably take us a few days,” points out Jawbreaker. “Let’s finish checking out the islands first.”
“Don’t forget, Bacon Grease might have something that we could use, or at least some spices.”* Naomi grins, thinking of her grunting love match over the kitchen with Bacon Grease. She sighs gluttonously. They sure spread their juices in the crew’s lunch that day!
The party agrees, and soon they are searching the next isle. While looking around, Chief Jawbreaker finds an old area of dried mud and muck that, from the looks of it, is almost always above the water. It looks to have baked solid in the sun and never re-softened, and the perfect impression of a footprint is in the hardened mud- a footprint about as long as a halfling’s leg.
“Giants,” Jawbreaker grunts. He glances around. The islet is nearly featureless; there certainly aren’t any structures tall enough for a giant to hide in. He shrugs and the party keeps searching.
They find one more noteworthy feature on the islet: the skeleton of a 25’ tall giant lies stretched out in a depression, surrounded by broken rocks and spattered with the guano of sea gulls. The skeleton is missing one leg below the knee. It appears that the giant scratched some kind of glyph in the stones next to it before it died.
Federico squats down and examines the rune for a few moments before announcing, “I think this means ‘danger in the water.’”
“Shocking,” mutters Rock.
“Wow!” Tron has picked up one of the guano-covered rocks. “It’s a white rock! I wonder if I can smoke it...”
“That’s not crahk, that’s bird poop,” Nara sighs.
“You could try it,” Federico replies. “Maybe it will get you high.”
Tron stares suspiciously at the rock, then thoughtfully puts it into his pocket for later use. “There’s gotta be some crahk out here somewhere,” he complains, rooting around amongst the rocks and mussels. Naomi, meanwhile, has begun preparing second breakfast- though, as she squints at the sky, it might be more like brunch time.
“You know,” Erasmuz offers, “I might be able to animate that skeleton.”
“What!” exclaims Yip. “That is horrible- blasphemous, sacrilegous!”
“No it’s not, buddy,” Erasmuz retorts. “I mean, think about it- he might even get the chance to take revenge on his killer, if it was whatever is in the water.” He gestures at the glyph. “And that seems likely, right?”
Federico, Yip and Erasmuz debate the ethics of animating the dead for a while, but finally Erasmuz’ “revenge” argument wins the day. The ur-priest pulls a large black gem from his pouch and places it within the eye socket of the skeleton. Then he begins chanting and gesturing, almost seeming to mock the very invocations that he is using. Slowly, the 25’ tall skeleton pulls itself up- and almost falls over!
“Crap, he needs a peg leg,” Erasmuz complains. “I almost forgot.”
Fortunately, the ruined isle has just enough rubble on it that the party can fashion a prosthetic for the skeleton. Then Erasmuz climbs onto it, perching within its ribcage, and the party gets ready to continue their explorations. “Hey, buddies,” the ur-priest suggests, “hop on and I’ll cast air walk on him!”
So it is that the peg legged giant skeleton- named “Tiny” by our heroes- becomes a means of transport, and it’s off to the next isle, where the party finds a reasonable number of ruins- but no intact buildings. Among the ruins of this islet, a thorough search turns up a trap door that is wedged shut by slime and muck. Half an hour’s work allows it to be opened. Below is a sodden chamber with 1’ of water at the bottom. A rusted metal desk is the only remaining furnishing, but a simple cursory search reveals a sealed, lacquered box. It opens with ease when Jawbreaker puts a little force behind the attempt. Within it is a prayer book written in some sort of debased Halfling tongue.
“Let me see it,” hums Naomi. Her grubby paws scrabble at it. After a few moments spent moving her lips while she reads, she cackles happily. “As I suspected- it’s a work of the jerren!”
“How do you know so much about these jerren?” wonders Ari.
“Oh, uh, as to that, well,” Naomi grunts, “you might say that I have some jerren blood in me.”
The party stares at her. “I heard the jerren were eeevil,” Federico says solemnly.
“Well, they were known for a little stuff and things, but nothing to worry about,” Naomi mutters. “Anyway, this appears to be a prayer book of some kind.”
“Prayers? To who?” asks Nara.
“Zaamel, ‘Lord of the Darkest Depths,’” Naomi replies, flipping pages. “Hmm, this makes sense. We- I mean, the jerren have been known to summon or bind various creatures. Maybe that’s what Ari sensed below.”
“What else is in the book?” asks Beau.
“Not much- it does mention Uldwin of the Sky, who appears to be Zaamel’s father, and Manos the Fisherman, Zaamel’s arch-foe. Beyond that... maybe with more study, but who knows? Like I said, it looks pretty much like a prayer book.”
“Get rid of it,” Erasmuz murmurs to himself, but nobody else hears him.
“Well,” Rock says, “there’s one more isle over there.” He jabs a finger to the south east.
“Yep!” Erasmuz grins. “Hop on, buddies!” He climbs Tiny’s ribs like a ladder and settles into the skeleton’s chest cavity. The others hop onto various places, and Tiny begins air walking the party towards the next- and last- isle.
Next Time: Our heroes try to decide whether they like to eat seaweed or whether it likes to eat them!
*Bacon Grease is, of course, the halfing cook on board the party’s ship.
Our heroes spend the morning in discussion. They are pretty sure that something nasty lives in the deep well between the islands. It is both logical and obvious. The only question is, what are they going to do about it?
Ari casts commune with nature and determines that there are several highly unnatural things under the water- one of them, especially, seems to lead the others. It feels old- so old that it has become native to Cydra, even if it was born... elsewhere. Frowning unhappily, he states, “I think this area needs a cleansing.”
The suggestion of hooking a party member onto a rope and using them for bait kicks off an interesting line of reasoning. Given that the party doesn’t have a gnome, the plan’s next permutation instead involves dumping some kind of soup or stew down into the water in order to lure out whatever is down there. This further evolves until someone suggests cooking up something foul and poisonous to either draw out whatever is down there or to weaken (or even kill) it.
“Well, while I don’t endorse the use of poison all the time, especially when we’re just dumping it into the environment,” Ari says slowly, “I think in this case it may be warranted. I doubt whether there are many natural creatures living down there now anyway.”
“Well, gathering stuff to do that probably take us a few days,” points out Jawbreaker. “Let’s finish checking out the islands first.”
“Don’t forget, Bacon Grease might have something that we could use, or at least some spices.”* Naomi grins, thinking of her grunting love match over the kitchen with Bacon Grease. She sighs gluttonously. They sure spread their juices in the crew’s lunch that day!
The party agrees, and soon they are searching the next isle. While looking around, Chief Jawbreaker finds an old area of dried mud and muck that, from the looks of it, is almost always above the water. It looks to have baked solid in the sun and never re-softened, and the perfect impression of a footprint is in the hardened mud- a footprint about as long as a halfling’s leg.
“Giants,” Jawbreaker grunts. He glances around. The islet is nearly featureless; there certainly aren’t any structures tall enough for a giant to hide in. He shrugs and the party keeps searching.
They find one more noteworthy feature on the islet: the skeleton of a 25’ tall giant lies stretched out in a depression, surrounded by broken rocks and spattered with the guano of sea gulls. The skeleton is missing one leg below the knee. It appears that the giant scratched some kind of glyph in the stones next to it before it died.
Federico squats down and examines the rune for a few moments before announcing, “I think this means ‘danger in the water.’”
“Shocking,” mutters Rock.
“Wow!” Tron has picked up one of the guano-covered rocks. “It’s a white rock! I wonder if I can smoke it...”
“That’s not crahk, that’s bird poop,” Nara sighs.
“You could try it,” Federico replies. “Maybe it will get you high.”
Tron stares suspiciously at the rock, then thoughtfully puts it into his pocket for later use. “There’s gotta be some crahk out here somewhere,” he complains, rooting around amongst the rocks and mussels. Naomi, meanwhile, has begun preparing second breakfast- though, as she squints at the sky, it might be more like brunch time.
“You know,” Erasmuz offers, “I might be able to animate that skeleton.”
“What!” exclaims Yip. “That is horrible- blasphemous, sacrilegous!”
“No it’s not, buddy,” Erasmuz retorts. “I mean, think about it- he might even get the chance to take revenge on his killer, if it was whatever is in the water.” He gestures at the glyph. “And that seems likely, right?”
Federico, Yip and Erasmuz debate the ethics of animating the dead for a while, but finally Erasmuz’ “revenge” argument wins the day. The ur-priest pulls a large black gem from his pouch and places it within the eye socket of the skeleton. Then he begins chanting and gesturing, almost seeming to mock the very invocations that he is using. Slowly, the 25’ tall skeleton pulls itself up- and almost falls over!
“Crap, he needs a peg leg,” Erasmuz complains. “I almost forgot.”
Fortunately, the ruined isle has just enough rubble on it that the party can fashion a prosthetic for the skeleton. Then Erasmuz climbs onto it, perching within its ribcage, and the party gets ready to continue their explorations. “Hey, buddies,” the ur-priest suggests, “hop on and I’ll cast air walk on him!”
So it is that the peg legged giant skeleton- named “Tiny” by our heroes- becomes a means of transport, and it’s off to the next isle, where the party finds a reasonable number of ruins- but no intact buildings. Among the ruins of this islet, a thorough search turns up a trap door that is wedged shut by slime and muck. Half an hour’s work allows it to be opened. Below is a sodden chamber with 1’ of water at the bottom. A rusted metal desk is the only remaining furnishing, but a simple cursory search reveals a sealed, lacquered box. It opens with ease when Jawbreaker puts a little force behind the attempt. Within it is a prayer book written in some sort of debased Halfling tongue.
“Let me see it,” hums Naomi. Her grubby paws scrabble at it. After a few moments spent moving her lips while she reads, she cackles happily. “As I suspected- it’s a work of the jerren!”
“How do you know so much about these jerren?” wonders Ari.
“Oh, uh, as to that, well,” Naomi grunts, “you might say that I have some jerren blood in me.”
The party stares at her. “I heard the jerren were eeevil,” Federico says solemnly.
“Well, they were known for a little stuff and things, but nothing to worry about,” Naomi mutters. “Anyway, this appears to be a prayer book of some kind.”
“Prayers? To who?” asks Nara.
“Zaamel, ‘Lord of the Darkest Depths,’” Naomi replies, flipping pages. “Hmm, this makes sense. We- I mean, the jerren have been known to summon or bind various creatures. Maybe that’s what Ari sensed below.”
“What else is in the book?” asks Beau.
“Not much- it does mention Uldwin of the Sky, who appears to be Zaamel’s father, and Manos the Fisherman, Zaamel’s arch-foe. Beyond that... maybe with more study, but who knows? Like I said, it looks pretty much like a prayer book.”
“Get rid of it,” Erasmuz murmurs to himself, but nobody else hears him.
“Well,” Rock says, “there’s one more isle over there.” He jabs a finger to the south east.
“Yep!” Erasmuz grins. “Hop on, buddies!” He climbs Tiny’s ribs like a ladder and settles into the skeleton’s chest cavity. The others hop onto various places, and Tiny begins air walking the party towards the next- and last- isle.
Next Time: Our heroes try to decide whether they like to eat seaweed or whether it likes to eat them!
*Bacon Grease is, of course, the halfing cook on board the party’s ship.
the Jester
Legend
Noon, approaching the last islet
“Look!” Federico points. “There’s a shape in the water!” He quivers with fright, his little kobold tail tucked between his legs.
“We could check it out,” suggests Erasmuz.
“Island first,” Jawbreaker declares. As he is the chief, debate subsides. Besides, nobody really wants to go into the water. Dandylion Ho and Ari (who turns into an eagle) fly up above and circle the isle, hoping to see any danger before it sees them, but though there are a couple of ruined buildings, they see no sign of hostile life or real hazards. A more thorough search by the group turns up nothing new, but as they examine the islet for clues Federico suddenly stiffens and starts talking to the air. “Auntie!” He looks around wildly. “Where are you? What’s going on? Is that you? Hello? Hello?? Is anyone there? Hello? Auntie??”
“Are you all right?” Beau asks.
The little kobold jester looks quite confused. “She was just talking to me... didn’t you hear her? No? Wow...”
“What happened?” Erasmuz inquires.
Federico answers, “I heard my Auntie’s voice. Didn’t you hear it...? She was talking about poor Mama Flapjacks, and she asked me to come home...” He pauses, looking thoughtfully at the others. “Is there some kind of magic that will let you do that? Send a message to someone far away? It sounds like she’s still at home, on Strogass near the Western Precipice... How could she be talking to me here?”
“It must have been a sending,” Erasmuz opines. “She could send you a message, and then you could reply in kind.”
“But I didn’t...” Slowly, it dawns on the more magic-savvy members of the party that Federico’s reply to his aunt’s sending was something like, Auntie! Where are you? What’s going on? Is that you? Hello? Hello?? Is anyone there? Hello? Auntie?? She was just talking to me... didn’t you, but it’s too late to make any use of it now.
“I’ll have to go home,” Federico declares. “Auntie Flapjacks asked me to- and she asked after Mama.” He sniffs, a tear coming to his eye. “I miss my Mama,” he whimpers.*
While they talk, it soon comes out that Naomi’s “jerren blood” is all of her blood. She is in fact a full-blooded jerren. No wonder she’s such a bitch, thinks Nara acidly, as the party mulls the revelation. By this time it is early afternoon. Our party breaks from their mission- they are done searching, and next comes delving into the sea after whatever they saw just off the islet- for tea time, snacking on bacon and crackers. Over tea, they discuss the implications of heading back towards Federico’s home area.
“The Peachtrees,” the kobold whimpers. “They don’t like us. And we’re wanted.”
“You are?” Dandylion asks.
“Yeah, well at least Chief Jawbreaker and I are.”
“What for?” asks Nara.
“We let a bunch of crazy people out of an insane asylum.** But that place was terrible! They did horrible things to people in there- they cut open their heads and poured liquids on their brains and stuff!” Federico shudders.
“Bad place,” Jawbreaker confirms.
“I hope Stupid is okay,” Lanzor says grumpily.
“What about the Peachtrees?” asks Nara.
Jawbreaker groans. “Jawbreaker didn’t mean to hurt Heather.”
“Yeah, Ed didn’t mean to shoot out Benjy Peachtree’s eye, either,” Federico responds.
“So you might say that they have a couple of reasons not to like you,” Nara muses.
“Screw the Peachtrees,” Rock grumbles. “Whoever they are.”
“Well, I’m full,” announces Tron. “Time to get in the water.”
“No!” snaps Ari. “Tron, you must know better- you must wait thirty minutes before swimming after you eat.”
The party continues to chat for half and hour; then they enter the water. All of them are soon under the influence of a water breathing spell, and they submerge themselves in the turbulent water. As they enter the water, Tron moans, “I need some crahk.”
Then they are below the surface, breathing the ocean itself. Ari wild shapes into a shark and begins swimming ahead of the party. Almost immediately he spots a large bed of kelp, and above it- some kind of bundle or growth of kelp, bunched into a globby shape. It moves with purpose and begins to glide through the water towards the party.
Ari reverses course, heading back towards the party. They realize that he must have seen something, but as a shark, he cannot speak to them. “What is it?” wonders Rock, and then a strand of kelp wraps around him, instantly tightening and pulling the hapless fellow to it. He yelps, and the party bursts into action. Beau blasts a volley of magic missiles at it that pepper it with force. But the thing is unrelenting; it soon grapples Jawbreaker as well, entangling him in its fronds.
Our heroes, meanwhile, seem to be tripping all over themselves. A collection of misses and missteps keeps them from doing much of anything; they cololectively miss or fail to effect it with anything at all, except for a single magic missile from Federico.
Ari returns to his normal form and begins casting summon nature’s ally VI. It takes a few precious moments- during which Naomi successfully hits the thing with a mind thrust- but when the spell finally goes off, a small school of sharks appears! They tear into the kelp creature, tearing it apart in a few short moments.
“Wow,” says Tron.
Our heroes regroup. “Well, we know what was in water,” Jawbreaker notes as Nara and Ari dispense a little healing.
“But still not what’s in the center,” Beau points out.
Jawbreaker nods. “We will. Poison first. Try to kill it or draw it out.”
“It certainly can’t hurt to try,” admits Queffe.
“Then let’s go back to the ship,” Erasmuz suggests. “We can see if we have the necessary stuff for Bacon Grease to cook up something nasty and get to work.”
“And if he doesn’t have what he needs, Lox Pentor is only 12 miles away,” points out Queffe. “We could be there before night falls by several hours!”
***
4:30 p.m., Lox Pentor
Our heroes disembark. They have hours of daylight left as they stroll into Lox Pentor, thinking about dinner at Lambs. Little do they realize that one of them will be dead before the night is out.
Next Time: One of our heroes dies!! Who?? How?? Find out- next time!
*Mama Flapjacks is a former pc, a matronly halfling cleric mother-figure to most of hte party in the earlier days of the halfling party. She died adventuring with the party.
**Federico is, of course, referring to the Asylum for Advanced Mental Treatment and the party’s adventure with it, which led to their trial and conviction. (That marked hippijedi’s first game with our group; he is the player of Nara and Beau (as her cohort, these days) in the halfling party, and Gerontius in the epic game.
“Look!” Federico points. “There’s a shape in the water!” He quivers with fright, his little kobold tail tucked between his legs.
“We could check it out,” suggests Erasmuz.
“Island first,” Jawbreaker declares. As he is the chief, debate subsides. Besides, nobody really wants to go into the water. Dandylion Ho and Ari (who turns into an eagle) fly up above and circle the isle, hoping to see any danger before it sees them, but though there are a couple of ruined buildings, they see no sign of hostile life or real hazards. A more thorough search by the group turns up nothing new, but as they examine the islet for clues Federico suddenly stiffens and starts talking to the air. “Auntie!” He looks around wildly. “Where are you? What’s going on? Is that you? Hello? Hello?? Is anyone there? Hello? Auntie??”
“Are you all right?” Beau asks.
The little kobold jester looks quite confused. “She was just talking to me... didn’t you hear her? No? Wow...”
“What happened?” Erasmuz inquires.
Federico answers, “I heard my Auntie’s voice. Didn’t you hear it...? She was talking about poor Mama Flapjacks, and she asked me to come home...” He pauses, looking thoughtfully at the others. “Is there some kind of magic that will let you do that? Send a message to someone far away? It sounds like she’s still at home, on Strogass near the Western Precipice... How could she be talking to me here?”
“It must have been a sending,” Erasmuz opines. “She could send you a message, and then you could reply in kind.”
“But I didn’t...” Slowly, it dawns on the more magic-savvy members of the party that Federico’s reply to his aunt’s sending was something like, Auntie! Where are you? What’s going on? Is that you? Hello? Hello?? Is anyone there? Hello? Auntie?? She was just talking to me... didn’t you, but it’s too late to make any use of it now.
“I’ll have to go home,” Federico declares. “Auntie Flapjacks asked me to- and she asked after Mama.” He sniffs, a tear coming to his eye. “I miss my Mama,” he whimpers.*
While they talk, it soon comes out that Naomi’s “jerren blood” is all of her blood. She is in fact a full-blooded jerren. No wonder she’s such a bitch, thinks Nara acidly, as the party mulls the revelation. By this time it is early afternoon. Our party breaks from their mission- they are done searching, and next comes delving into the sea after whatever they saw just off the islet- for tea time, snacking on bacon and crackers. Over tea, they discuss the implications of heading back towards Federico’s home area.
“The Peachtrees,” the kobold whimpers. “They don’t like us. And we’re wanted.”
“You are?” Dandylion asks.
“Yeah, well at least Chief Jawbreaker and I are.”
“What for?” asks Nara.
“We let a bunch of crazy people out of an insane asylum.** But that place was terrible! They did horrible things to people in there- they cut open their heads and poured liquids on their brains and stuff!” Federico shudders.
“Bad place,” Jawbreaker confirms.
“I hope Stupid is okay,” Lanzor says grumpily.
“What about the Peachtrees?” asks Nara.
Jawbreaker groans. “Jawbreaker didn’t mean to hurt Heather.”
“Yeah, Ed didn’t mean to shoot out Benjy Peachtree’s eye, either,” Federico responds.
“So you might say that they have a couple of reasons not to like you,” Nara muses.
“Screw the Peachtrees,” Rock grumbles. “Whoever they are.”
“Well, I’m full,” announces Tron. “Time to get in the water.”
“No!” snaps Ari. “Tron, you must know better- you must wait thirty minutes before swimming after you eat.”
The party continues to chat for half and hour; then they enter the water. All of them are soon under the influence of a water breathing spell, and they submerge themselves in the turbulent water. As they enter the water, Tron moans, “I need some crahk.”
Then they are below the surface, breathing the ocean itself. Ari wild shapes into a shark and begins swimming ahead of the party. Almost immediately he spots a large bed of kelp, and above it- some kind of bundle or growth of kelp, bunched into a globby shape. It moves with purpose and begins to glide through the water towards the party.
Ari reverses course, heading back towards the party. They realize that he must have seen something, but as a shark, he cannot speak to them. “What is it?” wonders Rock, and then a strand of kelp wraps around him, instantly tightening and pulling the hapless fellow to it. He yelps, and the party bursts into action. Beau blasts a volley of magic missiles at it that pepper it with force. But the thing is unrelenting; it soon grapples Jawbreaker as well, entangling him in its fronds.
Our heroes, meanwhile, seem to be tripping all over themselves. A collection of misses and missteps keeps them from doing much of anything; they cololectively miss or fail to effect it with anything at all, except for a single magic missile from Federico.
Ari returns to his normal form and begins casting summon nature’s ally VI. It takes a few precious moments- during which Naomi successfully hits the thing with a mind thrust- but when the spell finally goes off, a small school of sharks appears! They tear into the kelp creature, tearing it apart in a few short moments.
“Wow,” says Tron.
Our heroes regroup. “Well, we know what was in water,” Jawbreaker notes as Nara and Ari dispense a little healing.
“But still not what’s in the center,” Beau points out.
Jawbreaker nods. “We will. Poison first. Try to kill it or draw it out.”
“It certainly can’t hurt to try,” admits Queffe.
“Then let’s go back to the ship,” Erasmuz suggests. “We can see if we have the necessary stuff for Bacon Grease to cook up something nasty and get to work.”
“And if he doesn’t have what he needs, Lox Pentor is only 12 miles away,” points out Queffe. “We could be there before night falls by several hours!”
***
4:30 p.m., Lox Pentor
Our heroes disembark. They have hours of daylight left as they stroll into Lox Pentor, thinking about dinner at Lambs. Little do they realize that one of them will be dead before the night is out.
Next Time: One of our heroes dies!! Who?? How?? Find out- next time!
*Mama Flapjacks is a former pc, a matronly halfling cleric mother-figure to most of hte party in the earlier days of the halfling party. She died adventuring with the party.
**Federico is, of course, referring to the Asylum for Advanced Mental Treatment and the party’s adventure with it, which led to their trial and conviction. (That marked hippijedi’s first game with our group; he is the player of Nara and Beau (as her cohort, these days) in the halfling party, and Gerontius in the epic game.
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