Of Sound Mind the Halfling Way
- Thread starter the Jester
- Start date
Mista Collins
First Post
I like it! I like it! I like it! Great story. Got to love the adventures of a party of halfling's. Even though it seems the party is slowly slipping from halfling's to other races 
. Got to love losing 1st level characters. Most player's don't care because they are first level. Can't wait for more.
. Got to love losing 1st level characters. Most player's don't care because they are first level. Can't wait for more.
the Jester
Legend
The Missing Children
“Ooohh,” Sandy groans. Slowly his eyes flutter open. “Ugh,” he says weakly.
The sound of water cascades somewhere in the distance. It’s dark, but... he feels his head gingerly. Tender, but partially healed. How...? Finally, Sandy’s head snaps back into focus. “The dragon!” he exclaims. Then, “The bell!”
“Shh, it’s okay,” murmurs Trinia.
The group fills Sandy in. They’ve been resting, recouping their strength, before trying to ascend to the dragon’s old lair. “You should see Velea,” sighs Federico. “She’s beautiful.” Captain Cavedwarf harrumphs.
The group ascends a slippery, wet ramp that winds around the waterfall. Wary of fallng- Ed starts crying as she thinks of her poor twin brother Coco- they take their time, moving slowly and carefully. If it weren’t for the fey, Federico would be whining to go back. The view is gorgeous- the waterfall is full of some weird luminescence, a glow seemingly from within the water itself. The spray of the waterfall rapidly soaks the entire group. At the top, the halflings go through a window and find themselves in some sort of gallery room. As they pass through the frame of the window, they find themselves completely dry!
The room holds a large chess set. The pieces are as high as four feet, taller than most of the group (with the exception of Thelonious). A quick search discovers a draconic face of copper set into the wall and covered with cobwebs. Captain Cavedwarf rubs it clean, and then jerks his hand back as it speaks.
"This garden is a lonely place
where many came, and yet remain
the plants grew strong on fertile ground
watered by legacies of pain
and should I plow, my plow would break
on cast-off husks of iron grain
now buried where they fell like wheat.
What am I? Speak! Or face the bane."
“Um,” says Sandy, “sounds like a riddle of some kind.”
The party turns it over for a moment, but they don’t come up with an answer in time, and one of the chess pieces animates and starts clanking towards them! Captain Cavedwarf yells out his battle cry and smashes it away with his greatclub, and it stops moving.
“Don’t like riddles,” comments the dwarf.
The group continues along, following a hallway lined with statues of warriors on the left and miners and workers on the right. The dog whimpers as they move through, afraid that the stone forms will animate at any second. Fortunately, they do not. The hallway leads them into a large room, and they move quietly. “I hear voices,” Sandy warns quietly.
There’s a ramp that leads up towards the direction of the voices. The party moves quietly up and finds it ends in a wall. Quick examination reveals that the wall is an illusion, and Sandy pokes his head through to glance quickly about.
The room is huge. Floored in copper, there’s a rough slaughterhouse, a few animals (stolen, no doubt), and several workbenches. Large blue crystals are set on tables next to the benches. In the middle of the room is a human boy- one of the missing children? He’s gagged and looks helpless. A large metal cage holds a sleeping girl and another boy, this one pacing back and forth angrily. All three look hungry, tired and scared, and instantly our heroes know that it’s time to make their move.
Further away down the room is an opening, through which a huge carcass lies. It’s the remains of Copperdeath, the dragon! For a terrible moment the halflings think it’s moving- but no, something’s coming out of its mouth... several somethings.
Goblins.
Headed by a strangely blue-skinned, swollen-headed goblin.
“Congratulations,” the thing gurgles in thick Strogassian. Speaking slowly as if to a half-wit, its accent distorting its words. “Today is your lucky day, child. Soon you’ll have power. Or you’ll be dead. Either way your life will be better.”
Before our heroes can break their momentary paralysis of horror, the blue goblin lifts something small, blue and sharp looking to the child’s head, raises a hammer in its other hand, and pounds the small object directly into the kid’s forehead.
Next Time: Crikey, that isn’t nice at all!! Well, our little heroes are just gonna have to stand up for the little guys here, aren’t they??
“Ooohh,” Sandy groans. Slowly his eyes flutter open. “Ugh,” he says weakly.
The sound of water cascades somewhere in the distance. It’s dark, but... he feels his head gingerly. Tender, but partially healed. How...? Finally, Sandy’s head snaps back into focus. “The dragon!” he exclaims. Then, “The bell!”
“Shh, it’s okay,” murmurs Trinia.
The group fills Sandy in. They’ve been resting, recouping their strength, before trying to ascend to the dragon’s old lair. “You should see Velea,” sighs Federico. “She’s beautiful.” Captain Cavedwarf harrumphs.
The group ascends a slippery, wet ramp that winds around the waterfall. Wary of fallng- Ed starts crying as she thinks of her poor twin brother Coco- they take their time, moving slowly and carefully. If it weren’t for the fey, Federico would be whining to go back. The view is gorgeous- the waterfall is full of some weird luminescence, a glow seemingly from within the water itself. The spray of the waterfall rapidly soaks the entire group. At the top, the halflings go through a window and find themselves in some sort of gallery room. As they pass through the frame of the window, they find themselves completely dry!
The room holds a large chess set. The pieces are as high as four feet, taller than most of the group (with the exception of Thelonious). A quick search discovers a draconic face of copper set into the wall and covered with cobwebs. Captain Cavedwarf rubs it clean, and then jerks his hand back as it speaks.
"This garden is a lonely place
where many came, and yet remain
the plants grew strong on fertile ground
watered by legacies of pain
and should I plow, my plow would break
on cast-off husks of iron grain
now buried where they fell like wheat.
What am I? Speak! Or face the bane."
“Um,” says Sandy, “sounds like a riddle of some kind.”
The party turns it over for a moment, but they don’t come up with an answer in time, and one of the chess pieces animates and starts clanking towards them! Captain Cavedwarf yells out his battle cry and smashes it away with his greatclub, and it stops moving.
“Don’t like riddles,” comments the dwarf.
The group continues along, following a hallway lined with statues of warriors on the left and miners and workers on the right. The dog whimpers as they move through, afraid that the stone forms will animate at any second. Fortunately, they do not. The hallway leads them into a large room, and they move quietly. “I hear voices,” Sandy warns quietly.
There’s a ramp that leads up towards the direction of the voices. The party moves quietly up and finds it ends in a wall. Quick examination reveals that the wall is an illusion, and Sandy pokes his head through to glance quickly about.
The room is huge. Floored in copper, there’s a rough slaughterhouse, a few animals (stolen, no doubt), and several workbenches. Large blue crystals are set on tables next to the benches. In the middle of the room is a human boy- one of the missing children? He’s gagged and looks helpless. A large metal cage holds a sleeping girl and another boy, this one pacing back and forth angrily. All three look hungry, tired and scared, and instantly our heroes know that it’s time to make their move.
Further away down the room is an opening, through which a huge carcass lies. It’s the remains of Copperdeath, the dragon! For a terrible moment the halflings think it’s moving- but no, something’s coming out of its mouth... several somethings.
Goblins.
Headed by a strangely blue-skinned, swollen-headed goblin.
“Congratulations,” the thing gurgles in thick Strogassian. Speaking slowly as if to a half-wit, its accent distorting its words. “Today is your lucky day, child. Soon you’ll have power. Or you’ll be dead. Either way your life will be better.”
Before our heroes can break their momentary paralysis of horror, the blue goblin lifts something small, blue and sharp looking to the child’s head, raises a hammer in its other hand, and pounds the small object directly into the kid’s forehead.
Next Time: Crikey, that isn’t nice at all!! Well, our little heroes are just gonna have to stand up for the little guys here, aren’t they??
the Jester
Legend
Expect a massive slew of updates soon. Thelonious' player wrote up a considerable bit, including the climax. I'm going to edit for completeness and formatting and post it soon.
His picks up, I'd guess, after one more of my updates. And he's done prolly about three long updates worth.
He also wrote the update where Malford BS'es his way through the tale of Zuggtmoy in the Agents of Chaos thread... it's a pretty funny update.
His picks up, I'd guess, after one more of my updates. And he's done prolly about three long updates worth.
He also wrote the update where Malford BS'es his way through the tale of Zuggtmoy in the Agents of Chaos thread... it's a pretty funny update.
the Jester
Legend
Battle for the Children!
With a cry of rage, Brother He leaps forward to attack. His little legs propel him forward, but the goblins see him coming. The blue one backs away, but the others act like bodyguards, pulling javelins and stepping in front of the blue. The human lad slumps, dead or unconscious, blood streaming from his head.
Using his momentum, Brother He hurls his harpoon forward. It slides through the air and whizzes into the blue goblin, and a dagger from Sandy spins forward and sinks into the blue’s arm. Heck, let’s call him by name; he’s Thimdrul. He croaks an order in goblin at the lackeys, and then screams for more help. There are more goblins further down the long series of open rooms that hear and start to move forward. The bodyguards with him are starting to respond to the halfling assault; one javelin sticks Captain Cavedwarf in the thigh. Roaring “Captain CAVEDWAAAARF!!!”, the dwarven druid rushes in and aims a wild blow at one of the goblins. The small humanoid ducks the huge club and squeals in fear, but he stands his ground.
Brother He is continuing to advance, but since he’s got the harpoon in the enemy, he figures he might as well give it a good yank. Doing this elicits a high-pitched, satisfying scream from Thimdrul, and the blue drops to the ground. The monk and Captain Cavedwarf stand side-by-side, swinging fists, club and kicks at the cadre of goblins before them. Now there are five enemies, and it looks like there are still more coming! Federico is slinging stones at the enemies, yammering a series of derogatory jokes at them, which heartens our heroes; but the numbers opposing them don’t look good. Even as he considers the odds, a goblin shortsword slips past Cavedwarf’s defenses, pricking him in the side. The dwarf feels the blade slide from his ribs and grimaces. His muscles bunch as he swings his shillelaghed greatclub again, and this time there’s a satisfying connection with a goblin head. Blood sprays as the little humanoid drops to the ground like a wet sack of flour. His monk ally lands a kick in the face of another, giving them a few seconds of breathing room, but the other three that just arrived rush in with a flurry of blades and spears, and our heroes are hard-pressed to stave off the assault.
“You can’t even kill a kobold!” Federico howls at the goblins, and lets another sling bullet fly. His self-deprecating humor never fails to bring a smile to the clan- even in times of danger.
The goblins are pressing their attack, but Cavedwarf smashes another one down with an angry bellow. Then a spear deals him another telling wound, and he nearly slips in his own blood. Another of the goblins rushes past the two staunch defenders and aims a blow of his mace at Sandy, who catches it on the shoulder, trying to dodge away. And more goblins are moving in!
Things look ugly, and they only get worse when a pair of goblins springs in to flank Captain Cavedwarf. He parries the first blow with his club, but it’s too big and heavy for him to pivot it to block the other one in time. He staggers with a scream as a spear jabs deep into his back.
Brother He is still putting up a fight, dodging, weaving, spinning, throwing a kick, blocking a club, springing away. He lashes out when he can, but he’s having to expend all his energy just avoiding getting killed! He spares a glance in Sandy’s direction- he and Federico seem to have the one that struck him under control, but that leaves four for Brother He- well, and Cavedwarf, who can barely stand. Things look ugly.
Spak! A sling bullet tags one of the goblins in the head. “That’s right, a kobold’s kicking you ass!” Federico crows, dropping another bullet into the cup of the sling. Spak! Another hit! The goblin drops. His tongue poking out of his grinning mouth, Federico keeps up his steady stream of bullets and jokes.
Brother He finally takes one of the goblins down, and suddenly the heat’s off. There are only two left, and he and Cavedwarf press the attack while Sandy and Federico keep up their missile fire, and soon there’s only one left. The halflings (and company) graciously accept the goblin’s surrender. At first they hope to question him; but it soon turns out that he’s just following orders and pretty stupid even for a goblin. It seems, though, that there was some sort of experiment going on.
The blue goblin, the party’s captive states, wasn’t the chief. “He was, erm, blue. Not chief. Not shaman. Blue.”
Scratching their heads, our heroes let their prisoner go after they determine that he can’t really give them much information. They eye the dragon’s corpse warily; its mouth is propped open by spears, and when they venture too close to it, it gives our heroes headaches. Beyond the dragon is the ledge where the goblins rolled rocks down on our heroes previously; and our heroes find a hidden path promising a slightly easier descent than before. The night sky is brilliant with stars. It looks late- past midnight, surely.
The three kids are all alive, even the lad who got whacked in the head; so our heroes release them and start to lead them home. They’re clearly more than a little traumatized by the experience. The girl is the only one of the three who will actually talk to our heroes. She seems nervous and keeps rubbing at her forehead. “Did they do something to you?” Sandy asks her nervously. Something’s tapping at the back of his mind, some important but overlooked factor...
The girl, Tala, nods. “They put something in me,” she whispers. “There were voices for a while, but then they stopped. I think...” Her voice catches for an instant. “I almost died.”
Sandy turns to the others. In halfling, he says, “Whatever’s been done to these kids, they could be valuable...”
Brother He replies, “Or they could turn into something bad.”
“Point taken.” Sandy frowns. If only he could put his finger on whatever was bothering him...
He stops for a moment. Looks at the night sky.
“How long was I unconscious?” he asks suddenly.
“Huh? Oh, a couple of days,” Captain Cavedwarf grunts.
“What’s the date?” Sandy asks desperately.
“Um, the 13th I think...”
“Oh crap!” Sandy cries. Everyone’s looking at him quizzically. None of them remember. “The deadline!” Sandy goes on. “The witch’s deadline! It’s passed! If she’s right, there’s no one left who can dream!”
Assembling themselves, our heroes quickly begin leading the children down towards Bellhold...
Next Time: The tax collector! And, the update after, Thelonious’ updates!
With a cry of rage, Brother He leaps forward to attack. His little legs propel him forward, but the goblins see him coming. The blue one backs away, but the others act like bodyguards, pulling javelins and stepping in front of the blue. The human lad slumps, dead or unconscious, blood streaming from his head.
Using his momentum, Brother He hurls his harpoon forward. It slides through the air and whizzes into the blue goblin, and a dagger from Sandy spins forward and sinks into the blue’s arm. Heck, let’s call him by name; he’s Thimdrul. He croaks an order in goblin at the lackeys, and then screams for more help. There are more goblins further down the long series of open rooms that hear and start to move forward. The bodyguards with him are starting to respond to the halfling assault; one javelin sticks Captain Cavedwarf in the thigh. Roaring “Captain CAVEDWAAAARF!!!”, the dwarven druid rushes in and aims a wild blow at one of the goblins. The small humanoid ducks the huge club and squeals in fear, but he stands his ground.
Brother He is continuing to advance, but since he’s got the harpoon in the enemy, he figures he might as well give it a good yank. Doing this elicits a high-pitched, satisfying scream from Thimdrul, and the blue drops to the ground. The monk and Captain Cavedwarf stand side-by-side, swinging fists, club and kicks at the cadre of goblins before them. Now there are five enemies, and it looks like there are still more coming! Federico is slinging stones at the enemies, yammering a series of derogatory jokes at them, which heartens our heroes; but the numbers opposing them don’t look good. Even as he considers the odds, a goblin shortsword slips past Cavedwarf’s defenses, pricking him in the side. The dwarf feels the blade slide from his ribs and grimaces. His muscles bunch as he swings his shillelaghed greatclub again, and this time there’s a satisfying connection with a goblin head. Blood sprays as the little humanoid drops to the ground like a wet sack of flour. His monk ally lands a kick in the face of another, giving them a few seconds of breathing room, but the other three that just arrived rush in with a flurry of blades and spears, and our heroes are hard-pressed to stave off the assault.
“You can’t even kill a kobold!” Federico howls at the goblins, and lets another sling bullet fly. His self-deprecating humor never fails to bring a smile to the clan- even in times of danger.
The goblins are pressing their attack, but Cavedwarf smashes another one down with an angry bellow. Then a spear deals him another telling wound, and he nearly slips in his own blood. Another of the goblins rushes past the two staunch defenders and aims a blow of his mace at Sandy, who catches it on the shoulder, trying to dodge away. And more goblins are moving in!
Things look ugly, and they only get worse when a pair of goblins springs in to flank Captain Cavedwarf. He parries the first blow with his club, but it’s too big and heavy for him to pivot it to block the other one in time. He staggers with a scream as a spear jabs deep into his back.
Brother He is still putting up a fight, dodging, weaving, spinning, throwing a kick, blocking a club, springing away. He lashes out when he can, but he’s having to expend all his energy just avoiding getting killed! He spares a glance in Sandy’s direction- he and Federico seem to have the one that struck him under control, but that leaves four for Brother He- well, and Cavedwarf, who can barely stand. Things look ugly.
Spak! A sling bullet tags one of the goblins in the head. “That’s right, a kobold’s kicking you ass!” Federico crows, dropping another bullet into the cup of the sling. Spak! Another hit! The goblin drops. His tongue poking out of his grinning mouth, Federico keeps up his steady stream of bullets and jokes.
Brother He finally takes one of the goblins down, and suddenly the heat’s off. There are only two left, and he and Cavedwarf press the attack while Sandy and Federico keep up their missile fire, and soon there’s only one left. The halflings (and company) graciously accept the goblin’s surrender. At first they hope to question him; but it soon turns out that he’s just following orders and pretty stupid even for a goblin. It seems, though, that there was some sort of experiment going on.
The blue goblin, the party’s captive states, wasn’t the chief. “He was, erm, blue. Not chief. Not shaman. Blue.”
Scratching their heads, our heroes let their prisoner go after they determine that he can’t really give them much information. They eye the dragon’s corpse warily; its mouth is propped open by spears, and when they venture too close to it, it gives our heroes headaches. Beyond the dragon is the ledge where the goblins rolled rocks down on our heroes previously; and our heroes find a hidden path promising a slightly easier descent than before. The night sky is brilliant with stars. It looks late- past midnight, surely.
The three kids are all alive, even the lad who got whacked in the head; so our heroes release them and start to lead them home. They’re clearly more than a little traumatized by the experience. The girl is the only one of the three who will actually talk to our heroes. She seems nervous and keeps rubbing at her forehead. “Did they do something to you?” Sandy asks her nervously. Something’s tapping at the back of his mind, some important but overlooked factor...
The girl, Tala, nods. “They put something in me,” she whispers. “There were voices for a while, but then they stopped. I think...” Her voice catches for an instant. “I almost died.”
Sandy turns to the others. In halfling, he says, “Whatever’s been done to these kids, they could be valuable...”
Brother He replies, “Or they could turn into something bad.”
“Point taken.” Sandy frowns. If only he could put his finger on whatever was bothering him...
He stops for a moment. Looks at the night sky.
“How long was I unconscious?” he asks suddenly.
“Huh? Oh, a couple of days,” Captain Cavedwarf grunts.
“What’s the date?” Sandy asks desperately.
“Um, the 13th I think...”
“Oh crap!” Sandy cries. Everyone’s looking at him quizzically. None of them remember. “The deadline!” Sandy goes on. “The witch’s deadline! It’s passed! If she’s right, there’s no one left who can dream!”
Assembling themselves, our heroes quickly begin leading the children down towards Bellhold...
Next Time: The tax collector! And, the update after, Thelonious’ updates!
the Jester
Legend
The Townsfolk
The town is dark as our tired heroes descend the mountain towards it. Sure, it’s late; but there’s nobody around. Even the Bell & Clapper is shut up tight.
“I’m scared,” Federico whines.
The party pokes around for a few minutes, not finding anything. Nobody up, nothing- and then, coming down the street, a glimpse of movement in the dark. A man, accompanied by the dead. Three skeletons surround him; he wears the raiment of a pries of Bleak, the Black Sun unholy symbol proudly displayed at his breast. “You there!” he calls. “What’s going on here? Throw down your weapons!”
Brother He motions for the children to hide, hoping to get them out of the way of possible combat. He doesn’t speak Strogassian, and there seems likely to be trouble; it’s the only thing for him to do. Sandy, meanwhile, cautiously answers the Bleakist, starting to back away. “We don’t know what’s going on. There were some kind of nightmares and-“
“Throw down your weapons now!”
Brother He starts moving back towards Sandy and the evil cleric.
“We don’t mean you any harm-“
The man snarls and makes a gesture with one hand. The skeletons advance. So does the human; and in a few moments Brother He is unconscious and bleeding and our heroes have cast down their weapons. The man confiscates several of them, then snaps, “Now then! I am a tax collector! Let’s get things straight- defy the me and you defy the Empire, and when you defy the Empire you die.” He turns to Sandy. “How much money do you have?”
Reluctantly, Sandy mumbles, “About sixty gold.”
“Give me thirty-five.”
No less reluctantly, Sandy forks it over.
“And you’re lucky you’re getting off that easy! Attacking a tax collector is a capital offense!”
“We didn’t really attack you,” Sandy mumbles, but is ignored.
The Bleakist casts cure light wounds on Brother He, whose eyes crack open. His head throbs from the mace blow that took him down- and now his adversary has brought him around! Confused, he stands up as the man says something to him in a warning tone. If only I spoke their tongue! Brother He thinks.
“He doesn’t speak Strogassian,” Sandy informs the cleric, and translates into halfling: “He’s a tax collector.”
“Oh,” Brother He says. It all makes sense now. No wonder he has skeleton guards! He needs something to guard him in a dangerous job like that! And of course, Brother He firmly believes in doing his civic duty. He gladly hands over most of his coin.
Now that the group is on a little better footing with the tax collector, he eases up on them a little. Though he declines to return the confiscated weapons, he also declines to carry out any summary executions. He demands to know what they know about the situation, and they tell him the skeleton of their tale.
“Well, this is a pretty penny,” the tax collector sneers. “Well, I did some investigation before I ran across you and found that the townsfolk are all in their buildings, locked away- but immobile. But if you mess with one of them, they’ll all start reacting to you. I lost my fourth skeleton that way. So the whole town is under some sort of spell from something going on in the mountain, huh? And you are adventurers who’ve been checking it out?”
“That’s about right,” Sandy confirms.
”Well then, I’ll tell you what. I’m out collecting taxes and I have quotas to meet. If I can’t tax the townsfolk here I have to tax somebody else...” He trails off meaningfully. “That means either you, or your little gathering of the clans.” Apparently he doesn’t believe in leaving things to implication. Wouldn’t want any misunderstandings, I guess. “So either you resolve this issue, or I’ll be filling my quota elsewhere. And to make sure you don’t try to do anything foolish, I’ll leave a skeleton to keep an eye on you.”
Our heroes have little choice but to agree.
The tax collector leaves to see to his own needs, whatever those may be; but he won’t be far (we’re reasonably sure). The party decides that they have to rest. The townsfolk don’t seem to be dangerous at this point. But it’s well past midnight and our heroes have had a long, hard day of mountain climbing, goblin-battling, and strange mental pressure. Not to mention the humiliation of being mugged by a damn tax collector.
So our heroes find a comfortable spot on a lawn on the edge of the plaza and lay down to sleep. They drift off, trusting the undead skeleton to serve as a guard, and sink into exhausted slumber. But the sound of fighting wakes them less than a handful of hours later. Tired eyes creak open-
There are lots of glassy-eyed townsfolk coming.
The skeleton has already slain several, but there are more, pulling it down, overwhelming it...
“Get up!” screams Trinia. “Get up!!!”
Scrambling out of their sleep, the halfling clan (and allies) stumble to their feet and start to retreat. There are so many people coming...! It looks like the whole town is coming out...
Suddenly, all of them speak at once.
”YOU CANNOT RESIST ME. SUBMIT YOURSELVES... OR DIE.”
“Back to the mountain!” Brother He shouts in halfling. He doesn’t care what the villagers just said. It’s time to go.
Fortunately for our heroes, the villagers seem to be slow, moving with a stiff, staggering gait that doesn’t have much speed in it. Unfortunately, the party is extremely tired* and the villagers don’t look to be tiring at all. The party also has the disadvantage of being short-legged and naturally slower than the majority of the villagers. Still, they open a certain amount of distance as they clamber back up Steeple Mountain towards the dragon’s mine entrance.
As they approach, the children become more and more hesitant. “I don’t want to go back in there,” Tala says in a quavering voice. Sandy, gasping for breath, only gestures back at the mob of hundreds following the party. Grimly our heroes try to put cover between themselves and the mob, but the voices in their heads are acting up in full effect.
Then Caleb gives a great howl and a lance of mental anguish washes over our heroes, and the boy explodes into psionic violence.
*They were on the edge of suffering from the fatigued condition. (If I recall correctly, they were officially fatigued after re-ascending the mountain to the dragon’s corpse.) Nobody looked up the penalties until much later in the session- we thought it was a penalty to rolls, not to ability scores. Had we looked it up earlier, Federico would have been out the whole time, as his natural strength is a 1.
Next Time: Beginning the update sequence written by Thelonious' player! The town’s pursuit continues! Will our heroes survive? Who will fall before the onrushing horde? I’ll post an update tomorrow or even late tonight!
The town is dark as our tired heroes descend the mountain towards it. Sure, it’s late; but there’s nobody around. Even the Bell & Clapper is shut up tight.
“I’m scared,” Federico whines.
The party pokes around for a few minutes, not finding anything. Nobody up, nothing- and then, coming down the street, a glimpse of movement in the dark. A man, accompanied by the dead. Three skeletons surround him; he wears the raiment of a pries of Bleak, the Black Sun unholy symbol proudly displayed at his breast. “You there!” he calls. “What’s going on here? Throw down your weapons!”
Brother He motions for the children to hide, hoping to get them out of the way of possible combat. He doesn’t speak Strogassian, and there seems likely to be trouble; it’s the only thing for him to do. Sandy, meanwhile, cautiously answers the Bleakist, starting to back away. “We don’t know what’s going on. There were some kind of nightmares and-“
“Throw down your weapons now!”
Brother He starts moving back towards Sandy and the evil cleric.
“We don’t mean you any harm-“
The man snarls and makes a gesture with one hand. The skeletons advance. So does the human; and in a few moments Brother He is unconscious and bleeding and our heroes have cast down their weapons. The man confiscates several of them, then snaps, “Now then! I am a tax collector! Let’s get things straight- defy the me and you defy the Empire, and when you defy the Empire you die.” He turns to Sandy. “How much money do you have?”
Reluctantly, Sandy mumbles, “About sixty gold.”
“Give me thirty-five.”
No less reluctantly, Sandy forks it over.
“And you’re lucky you’re getting off that easy! Attacking a tax collector is a capital offense!”
“We didn’t really attack you,” Sandy mumbles, but is ignored.
The Bleakist casts cure light wounds on Brother He, whose eyes crack open. His head throbs from the mace blow that took him down- and now his adversary has brought him around! Confused, he stands up as the man says something to him in a warning tone. If only I spoke their tongue! Brother He thinks.
“He doesn’t speak Strogassian,” Sandy informs the cleric, and translates into halfling: “He’s a tax collector.”
“Oh,” Brother He says. It all makes sense now. No wonder he has skeleton guards! He needs something to guard him in a dangerous job like that! And of course, Brother He firmly believes in doing his civic duty. He gladly hands over most of his coin.
Now that the group is on a little better footing with the tax collector, he eases up on them a little. Though he declines to return the confiscated weapons, he also declines to carry out any summary executions. He demands to know what they know about the situation, and they tell him the skeleton of their tale.
“Well, this is a pretty penny,” the tax collector sneers. “Well, I did some investigation before I ran across you and found that the townsfolk are all in their buildings, locked away- but immobile. But if you mess with one of them, they’ll all start reacting to you. I lost my fourth skeleton that way. So the whole town is under some sort of spell from something going on in the mountain, huh? And you are adventurers who’ve been checking it out?”
“That’s about right,” Sandy confirms.
”Well then, I’ll tell you what. I’m out collecting taxes and I have quotas to meet. If I can’t tax the townsfolk here I have to tax somebody else...” He trails off meaningfully. “That means either you, or your little gathering of the clans.” Apparently he doesn’t believe in leaving things to implication. Wouldn’t want any misunderstandings, I guess. “So either you resolve this issue, or I’ll be filling my quota elsewhere. And to make sure you don’t try to do anything foolish, I’ll leave a skeleton to keep an eye on you.”
Our heroes have little choice but to agree.
The tax collector leaves to see to his own needs, whatever those may be; but he won’t be far (we’re reasonably sure). The party decides that they have to rest. The townsfolk don’t seem to be dangerous at this point. But it’s well past midnight and our heroes have had a long, hard day of mountain climbing, goblin-battling, and strange mental pressure. Not to mention the humiliation of being mugged by a damn tax collector.
So our heroes find a comfortable spot on a lawn on the edge of the plaza and lay down to sleep. They drift off, trusting the undead skeleton to serve as a guard, and sink into exhausted slumber. But the sound of fighting wakes them less than a handful of hours later. Tired eyes creak open-
There are lots of glassy-eyed townsfolk coming.
The skeleton has already slain several, but there are more, pulling it down, overwhelming it...
“Get up!” screams Trinia. “Get up!!!”
Scrambling out of their sleep, the halfling clan (and allies) stumble to their feet and start to retreat. There are so many people coming...! It looks like the whole town is coming out...
Suddenly, all of them speak at once.
”YOU CANNOT RESIST ME. SUBMIT YOURSELVES... OR DIE.”
“Back to the mountain!” Brother He shouts in halfling. He doesn’t care what the villagers just said. It’s time to go.
Fortunately for our heroes, the villagers seem to be slow, moving with a stiff, staggering gait that doesn’t have much speed in it. Unfortunately, the party is extremely tired* and the villagers don’t look to be tiring at all. The party also has the disadvantage of being short-legged and naturally slower than the majority of the villagers. Still, they open a certain amount of distance as they clamber back up Steeple Mountain towards the dragon’s mine entrance.
As they approach, the children become more and more hesitant. “I don’t want to go back in there,” Tala says in a quavering voice. Sandy, gasping for breath, only gestures back at the mob of hundreds following the party. Grimly our heroes try to put cover between themselves and the mob, but the voices in their heads are acting up in full effect.
Then Caleb gives a great howl and a lance of mental anguish washes over our heroes, and the boy explodes into psionic violence.
*They were on the edge of suffering from the fatigued condition. (If I recall correctly, they were officially fatigued after re-ascending the mountain to the dragon’s corpse.) Nobody looked up the penalties until much later in the session- we thought it was a penalty to rolls, not to ability scores. Had we looked it up earlier, Federico would have been out the whole time, as his natural strength is a 1.
Next Time: Beginning the update sequence written by Thelonious' player! The town’s pursuit continues! Will our heroes survive? Who will fall before the onrushing horde? I’ll post an update tomorrow or even late tonight!
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the Jester
Legend
As promised, here is the first of Thelonious' updates, with some minor editing and annotation by me. Keep in mind that this is from the player's perspective, and contains some factual errors based on assumptions that the group made. 
Not that I'll correct them, for I wouldn't want to let them in on it just yet.
Not that I'll correct them, for I wouldn't want to let them in on it just yet.Similar Threads
