Lawrence of Arabica
First Post
Another vote for the annotations.
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"Out of the Frying Pan"- Book III: Fanning the Embers
- Thread starter el-remmen
- Start date
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Well, it will be some time before I can have those versions ready.
I will probably finished editting BOOK II and then go back and make the annotated versions for the first two books. Last night in my editting I got as far as the first time the PCs got to Garvan and their "brief" stay there waiting for the return of the Interim Chief.
There is going to be a lot to write about that section - since it was kind of hub in the campaign where the PCs could go in a ton of different directions, and also because decisions had to be made both in-game and in a meta-sense about the cohesion of the party since there was a conflict between Jana and the rest of the party (helping Markle), Kazrack and Jana, and Kazrack and Ratchis (and to some extent, the rest of the party), because of the oath.
I will probably finished editting BOOK II and then go back and make the annotated versions for the first two books. Last night in my editting I got as far as the first time the PCs got to Garvan and their "brief" stay there waiting for the return of the Interim Chief.
There is going to be a lot to write about that section - since it was kind of hub in the campaign where the PCs could go in a ton of different directions, and also because decisions had to be made both in-game and in a meta-sense about the cohesion of the party since there was a conflict between Jana and the rest of the party (helping Markle), Kazrack and Jana, and Kazrack and Ratchis (and to some extent, the rest of the party), because of the oath.
Finished finally!
Nem,
i just finished your story hour and loved every minute of it! I'm jealous of the depth of character and interactions you get from your players. As i was approaching the end here i was blown away losing two characters in what seemed like no time.
The other thing i love is the interwoven plots and adventures. until the last post or two i found myself wondering if there really was a dragon or not! I'm glad to find that there is one and maybe we'll get to see some dragon fighting before too long.
Lastly, i'd like to second someone's question about Debo. He seems to have an amazing recuperative quality about him. does he have some sort of ring of regeneration? if so, does his item have its drawbacks like Martin's?
thanks for the hours of entertainment!
derek
Nem,
i just finished your story hour and loved every minute of it! I'm jealous of the depth of character and interactions you get from your players. As i was approaching the end here i was blown away losing two characters in what seemed like no time.
The other thing i love is the interwoven plots and adventures. until the last post or two i found myself wondering if there really was a dragon or not! I'm glad to find that there is one and maybe we'll get to see some dragon fighting before too long.
Lastly, i'd like to second someone's question about Debo. He seems to have an amazing recuperative quality about him. does he have some sort of ring of regeneration? if so, does his item have its drawbacks like Martin's?
thanks for the hours of entertainment!
derek
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Dolza said:
Those two deaths hit the campaign hard and really made it turn totally in the direction of dark and dour, when in the past it always angled that way and then turned back, saved by the antics of folks like Jeremy and Derek - but without them - the seriousness of the situation and the reality of failure as a possibility for the party really hit home. And yes, failure is a possibility. . . None of this, 'the heroes always win', bullcrap - and my players know it.
Dolza said:
The players weren't sure either. I mean, all evidence pointed to the 'dragon' being a combination of gnomish illusions and confused sightings of the manticore and perhaps other monsters. I really enjoy turning conventions on their head and making you wonder right up to the last minute. There are more surprises to come. . eventually. . .
Dolza said:
As this has not yet been revealed in game and since the party may yet meet up with Debo again before the campaign is over I would rather not reveal this yet. . . But sufficed to say, little magic in Aquerra does not have a drawback or short-coming.
Dolza said:
Thank you, Derek. Especially for gracing us with your very first post on these boards. May I ask how you heard of this story hour?
how'd i hear? more like how'd i see!
Well, i came to enworld a year or so ago and started reading Pcat's story hour and enjoyed it immensely. From there i perused a couple of the other popular stories and then i saw your Aquerra banner one day and that tweaked my interest. so i looked through your portal threads until i found the beginning of the story. i spent lots of "downtime" at work reading and finally with some time off work this summer, i was able to finish it.
i ran a game for about a year for my players and it was much more linear in scope. of course that was easy for me being a new DM, and we all had a good time. if we start again i'd really like to incorperate the sense of recurring NPCs and sights. Of course having let my characters run up and down the coast of my world i'm not sure i could keep them confined to a smaller scale place now.
Speaking of npc's, i think how to make them real to the characters is what i'm going to take away from reading your story the most. I love Richard the Red. Is he good, bad, or ugly? or all of the above. Great stuff with him, he gives Martin some spells, gives some info and holds back other things. His actions aren't what the party always wants but they continue to work with him. I think i made the mistake of having so many people my PCs met an advesary of some kind, too black and white. so thanks for showing me the grey side of npcs!
derek
Well, i came to enworld a year or so ago and started reading Pcat's story hour and enjoyed it immensely. From there i perused a couple of the other popular stories and then i saw your Aquerra banner one day and that tweaked my interest. so i looked through your portal threads until i found the beginning of the story. i spent lots of "downtime" at work reading and finally with some time off work this summer, i was able to finish it.
i ran a game for about a year for my players and it was much more linear in scope. of course that was easy for me being a new DM, and we all had a good time. if we start again i'd really like to incorperate the sense of recurring NPCs and sights. Of course having let my characters run up and down the coast of my world i'm not sure i could keep them confined to a smaller scale place now.
Speaking of npc's, i think how to make them real to the characters is what i'm going to take away from reading your story the most. I love Richard the Red. Is he good, bad, or ugly? or all of the above. Great stuff with him, he gives Martin some spells, gives some info and holds back other things. His actions aren't what the party always wants but they continue to work with him. I think i made the mistake of having so many people my PCs met an advesary of some kind, too black and white. so thanks for showing me the grey side of npcs!
derek
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Wow!
Quadruple post!
Thanks again for giving OOTFP a chance and sticking with it.
As for Richard the Red, I consider him a "successful recurring npc" - someone interesting enough and wrapped up enough to keep around and with enough texture to make the PCs question the wisdom of killing him (or keeping him alive). If anything, he is the one that is pissed now because of Martin's treatment of him last time they met. Another meeting should be very interesting.
The funny thing is originally he was going to be a generic wizard of a different organization (the Conclave of Sorcery), but when Martin joined the game I decided to use Richard the Red an NPC actually created in the background for the last person to play a watch-mage in an Aquerra campaign I ran - that never got a chance to appear in that game (he was the character's father).
Quadruple post!
Thanks again for giving OOTFP a chance and sticking with it.
As for Richard the Red, I consider him a "successful recurring npc" - someone interesting enough and wrapped up enough to keep around and with enough texture to make the PCs question the wisdom of killing him (or keeping him alive). If anything, he is the one that is pissed now because of Martin's treatment of him last time they met. Another meeting should be very interesting.
The funny thing is originally he was going to be a generic wizard of a different organization (the Conclave of Sorcery), but when Martin joined the game I decided to use Richard the Red an NPC actually created in the background for the last person to play a watch-mage in an Aquerra campaign I ran - that never got a chance to appear in that game (he was the character's father).
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
part 1 (of 2)
Session #60
“Wow. That’s a nice flail,” Frederick said, pointing to the golden dwarf-headed flail that Kazrack had taken off of the wight dwarf. “Mind if I take a closer look at it?”
Kazrack looked the bard up and down, but handed the weapon over without fear. He was still trying to digest all he had been told of what had transpired while he was on death’s door. Martin did not seem to be telling the whole story and Gunthar insisted they owed him their lives. Ratchis seemed eager to keep moving, trying to push the topic of a deal to be discussed later. However, he did want to talk with the rest of the Fearless Manticore Killers away from Gunthar and his crew.
Frederick oohed and aahed over the flail as he examined it.
“Where are you going?” Gunthar asked, suspiciously, as Ratchis cast light on a burnt out torch and opened the secret door.
“We are going out into the hall to talk privately,” Ratchis responded.
“Huh? Keeping secrets? Why should I let you go and plan some scheme to screw me and my crew over?” Gunthar spat. “What do you think I am green-eared?”
“Do you know anything about my goddess?” Ratchis asked.
“Yeah, I know about your goddess,” Gunthar replied, exasperated.
“Then you know I will not betray you.”
“Ha!” Gunthar spat again, and smiled. “Like a Friar of Nephthys never betrayed anyone.”
Ratchis just stared at Gunthar.
“You go and make your little schemes then if they are so important to you, just remember this is a dangerous place it is in both of our interests to work together, pig-f*cker.”
Ratchis snarled and walked away. By this time Anarie and Beorth were up as well, and they came out into the hall as well, followed by Martin and Kazrack. Schlomo and Kismet kind of hung out just outside of the doorway, not sure if they should join the conversation.
“Are we going to be down here much longer? I don’t like it,” Tuko whispered to Anarie in her mind. The fox shivered underneath her cloak.
“As long as if takes to help these people,” Anarie replied.
“I’m hungry,” Tuko said, changing the subject. “What do you think squirrel tastes like?” The scent of Thomas had whiffed into his nostrils.
“Hmmmm, I don’t know, but I have heard it tastes like chicken.”
“Mmmmmmm, chicken! I love chicken!”
“Hush Tuko!”
Martin went over everything that had happened since the fight with the troll the best he could, and explained about how the Square had been with Gunthar and his crew, but had since disappeared. He also explained that Gunthar and his people did not know that the gnomes were after the sword as well, and that they both want help finding the dragon-slaying sword. He also explained that the map-room was most likely in or beneath a level or more submerged beneath water. Anarie explained that she had the water-breathing spell in a book she carried, but was not yet able to use it. She gave Martin permission to study it, so that it might be used to get the party down there.
“We have potions, too,” Kismet added, walking over. Schlomo was right behind her.
“I don’t know if I feel comfortable helping that dragon take the sword,’ Ratchis said. “She is trying to limit her chances of being defeated. How does Tanweil fit in?”
“We don’t know how he found out about us,” said Schlomo, but he attacked us one night as we camped. He might have been secretly listening in to our planning or something. Called us ‘servants of the dragon’ and said only he deserved to wield the sword and destroy the dragon.”
“I see our options as these,” said Kismet. “Slay the dragon ourselves with your help, sneak the chieftain out, or trust the dragon to keep her word and bring her the sword.”
“I don’t know what we can do,” Ratchis said.
“It seems our word has been given for us twice,” Beorth said sullenly. “But I trust these men very little despite our still being alive and I do not trust their chances against the dragon, sword or no.”
“Oh, ho! I heard that!” Gunthar’s voice came from inside the secret room. “I heard you mention a sword. You are considering double-crossing me, aren’t ya?”
The blonde and bearded Neergaardian came out of the room.
“Pretend like me and Kismet are the ones you are betraying,” Schlomo whispered to Ratchis and Kazrack.
“Why should I have to lie?” Kazrack replied with disdain, a little too loudly.
“You don’t have to lie, just keep your mouth shut,” Ratchis responded with a hiss.
Gunthar walked over. “So what in the name of Bast’s sandbox are you guys planning?”
“We aren’t planning anything,” Ratchis said.
“We were just discussing that maybe we should not help you because we know of someone else who is after the sword,” Kazrack said.
Ratchis grunted in shock.
“I can’t believe you’d betray me that way!” Schlomo cried out, getting huffy. “I told you that information in confidence!”
The gnome stormed off, tossing Ratchis a wink.
The half-orc sighed, as Frederick came out to listen as well, carrying Kazrack’s flail to return it. “It is a man named Tanweil, except he may not be a man. He has appeared a green winged lizard man. He is very powerful.”
“You are making this sh*t up,” Gunthar replied. “You are damn bad liars.”
“It is the truth,” Martin said. “He appeared kind of draconic in origin. There is some connection between him and the dragon.”
Gunthar narrowed his eyes. “And this guy’s tough?”
“He killed several of our people, that is why we are after him,” Kismet added, lying well.
“Well, don’t your big-bulbous nose,” Gunthar said with a smile. “We’ll take care of him if we come across him. We’ll see what he makes of Debo. Right, Debo?”
“Debo kill,” Debo said.
“Or, you can let him get the sword and follow him to the dragon’s lair and let him soften her up before you enact you plan, whatever it might be,” Kazrack suggested.
“Wow, Stumpy. I didn’t know you could think that way,” Gunthar replied. “I mean, that sounds down right… uh…”
“Duplicitous,” Frederick suggested.
“Yeah! That, but I don’t think that will work with our plan,” Gunthar said. “Debo gets to use the sword in our plan, not that we are going to tell you what it is.”
“We don’t care what it is, and we don’t want to know,” Ratchis replied.
“Yeah, right…Uh-huh. Tell me another one,” Gunthar said, and then turned to Kismet who was walking off to ‘comfort’ Schlomo who was still seething. “Tell yer little friend that if he worried that if we find the sword first that we’ll just take off with it and then he can’t use to draw out this lizard-guy for your little ill-thought-out revenge scheme, then he is exactly right. No need to make more enemies than ya need, especially not some dragon-man flying thing.”
“Debo kill dragon-thing,” Debo said.
“You just may have to,” Gunthar replied.
Frederick the Amazing told Kazrack about his flail. (1)
“You must be very honored to wield such a weapon,” Frederick said.
“I am even more honored now that I know more about it,” Kazrack replied, grinning as he hefted and spun the weapon. The gold gleamed in the light of Ratchis’ enchanted torch.
It was agreed that one more night would be spent holed away in the secret room before continuing to explore. Gunthar explained that he and his party had entered through uncovered doors one level below and had not found much down there except more bone shards and powder, and some armories with mostly rusted weapons, and a great curving hall that went deep down into the earth, but looked partially collapsed and entirely flooded.
Martin spent the day studying Anarie’s version of the water-breathing spell and many tedious hours later, people of both groups began dropping off to sleep. Kazrack took the first watch with Frederick, but as Martin’s ring had kicked in, he stayed up as well, and watched along with Gunthar when he was awakened by Kazrack for second watch.
“Ugh,” Gunthar grimaced when he opened his eyes and saw Kazrack over him. “For a second there I thought I was being woken up by my date, but the funny thing is I’ve been woken up by uglier women.”
The warrior laughed and strapped on his armor. The watch-mage and foul-mouth fighter had not been watching too long. In fact, Kazrack’s snore had just begun to lend support to Debo’s, when there was a banging sound above them, even as the secret door began to open of its own accord.
Gunthar stepped over to the space beneath the ladder up to the trapdoor, as the lantern was positioned there and burning low. There was a violent bang above as he leaned forward to open the light wider, and a figure came plummeting down, slamming into Gunthar who went stumbling into where Anarie sat in reverie.
The secret door opened and Martin the Green could see the slouched form of Aldovar of Asmodeus, his skin was now nacreous, and his eyes a dull red fire.
“I knew we should have dealt with those bodies right away,” Martin cursed under his breath, stepping on Ratchis purposefully to wake him.
“Lentus! Martin chanted and suddenly Aldovar’s undead form swayed more slowly.
“Sleep!” Aldovar commanded, and Martin felt a weight upon his eyes, but he shook it off, even as he was forced to leap back to keep from getting the full brunt of the undead priest’s black clawed hands. Martin felt a rigidity go through his limbs, but again he was able to shake it off.
Ratchis leapt to his feet, not wasting time with questions. “Wake up! To arms! To arms!” he cried, scooping up his great axe and seeing that Gunthar seemed to have the other figure well in hand, chopped at the ghoulish form of Aldovar, biting deep into bone.
Martin could now see that the short lanky form that snarled as Gunthar bit into it with a long sword, was none other than the Square. However, his skin was deathly white, and his eyes blank and yellowed.
Ratchis moving into melee gave Martin a chance to withdraw from the fight and cast mage armor on himself, while Anarie got to her feet with a quick leap, not sure of which way to go to join the fight effectively.
Gunthar laughed as he cut the Square into pieces and kicked at the still moving parts. “Ya should’nt’ve wandered off there Squiddy,” he spat at the pieces. They stopped moving and the Square was no more.
The temperature in the already cold room dropped suddenly as the ghostly figure of the black robed priest that the Fearless Manticore Killers had faced on the level above came gliding into the room through the wall.
“Debo hate ghost-thing!” Debo cried, swinging his axe with great violence. The weight of the great blade seemed to drag him forward and swipe through the ghost form just as he became corporeal. A trail of clotted blood and rotten gore rained from the ghast’s shoulder. (2)
“You will serve me or will be served to me, choose!” the priest-ghast hissed.
“Arextes!” Frederick cried up jumping to his feet to keep from getting crushed in the melee. He recognized the figure from some of the tales of the final battles of this citadel. “He was a priest of Set, and a commander of some Black Island forces during the Mountain Wars.”
Aldovar and Ratchis traded blows and the half-orc staggered. Martin crept up behind him and helped with a mage armor, as Ratchis had not worn his more mundane version while sleeping.
“Sagitta Magicus,” Anarie chanted and sent an arrow of light streaming at Arextes. They could see him more clearly that ever before now, he had the face of a middle-aged man pock-marked and warted, but now raw and greenish-white, his neck and left ear and part of his face burned off in life. Gunthar spun on him, his swords ringing as they struck each other, going through the partially incorporeal form to no effect. He swung with such frustration that his long sword went flying from his grip, landing over by Schlomo who had awakened and was making his way to aid against Arextes.
“Natan-Ahb! I beseech you. I am your willing servant, use me to show these creatures your wrath!” Kazrack intoned. He stood with great vigor, clutching his bag of runestones about his neck. Unfortunately, the undead were too powerful to be turned.
“Bing-badda-Bing! Bing! The best thing I can do is sing!” Frederick said, stepping back behind Martin to get cover from both foes, projecting his almost comical tenor.
“Sagitta Magicus!” Anotehr two missiles came flying from the elf’s finger.
“Damn you!” Arextes cursed. “You shall die and be devoured here. You will never reach elven lands!” (3)
Gunthar howled as he hurried past to get his sword at the same moment that a horrid stench began to erupt from the black-robed serpent undead priest. Anarie and Kazrack could feel their bodies weaken, as their stomachs turned. Gunthar pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and nose, while Schlomo juste ignored it and stepped in, feeling his hammer strike something as it swung through the incorporeal form. Arextes lurched towards Kazrack as if about to charge and then disappeared with an audible ‘pop’.
Debo shouldered him way beside Ratchis who was desperately trying to finish Aldovar, and brought his axe down cleaving the priest’s torso in two large blood-erupting pieces.
“Debo hate dead Aldovar!” Debo said. “Aldovar deader!”
“Where did the other one go?” Beorth asked. He had never had room to get into range and strike a blow, though his sword was ready.
“Are they gone?” Frederick asked, stopping his song.
“Yes, I think so,” Martin replied.
“What in the Hells was that thing?” Gunthar asked. “And how do you kill it?”
“That is what we have been trying to figure out. We faced him twice already. This was the third time. He turns our dead against us.”
“Stay dead!” Debo said to the corpse of the foreign priest, chopping it into smaller pieces with his axe to be certain. “Only Debo can’t die.”
“”Enough!” Beorth commanded, and amazingly the barbarian stopped, but snarled at the paladin, stalking away.
Ratchis stripped the Square’s body, and Gunthar had Debo and Rondar (who had finally woken up) (4) do the same to Aldovar’s.
This time they burned their remains.
Rondar, the Fearless Manticore Killers soon found out was the least likeable of all of Gunthar’s crew. From the moment he woke up he had mumbled and wheezed a string of complaints and accusations, when he was not too busy laughing at the misfortune of others all he could do was bemoan his own. Ratchis could smell Debo’s desire to kill the whiny man.
Tholem, the 18th of Sek – 565 H.E.
The next day both groups seemed happy to be moving one, except for Rondar.
“I think we should just leave this place,” he whined to Gunthar, looking at Ratchis with great fear in his rheumy eyes. The man seemed unreasonably tall, skinny and angular. He seemed to do everything awkwardly.
“Rondar is good for nothing ‘cept pissing his pants,” Gunthar said to Kazrack, as the two groups spread out and made their way to the steps down to the next level.
“Then why keep him around?” Kazrack asked.
“Eh… He’s another target. He’ll be the one that sets off the killer trap since he is supposedly our ‘boxman’. Heh. The only box that one ever opened was his momma’s and from the inside. I hoped that sewed that bitch up so no more of his kind could slip out that crack.”
“Um…”
“Of course, all the pleasure is in sticking something in there, eh?” Gunthar elbowed Kazrack lasciviously in the head.
“I don’t think you should talk to Kazrack about that kind of stuff,” Frederick said, catching up to them. “I have heard that dwarves are virgins until they marry. Are you married Kazrack?”
The bard had a mischievous smile.
“No,” the dwarf replied and Gunthar and Frederick burst out laughing.
“Hey, Rondar!” Gunthar called to his companion momentarily forgetting his disgust with him in order to share the joke. “Stumpy here has never planted his hammer against some dwarven anvil.”
Rondar guffawed.
The stairs down were ten feet wide and made of cracked marble supported by stone beams that were carved with the image of scores of dwarves, each on each other’s back working an anvil. Kazrack was awed by the sight of it, but saddened that dripping water had worn many of the detailed sections away, and he could see large cracks in some that made him worry about the stability of the stairs, but luckily they had already pass over that part by the time he was in a position to see it.
Gunthar explained that they had entered on the level above, and had come down and looked around, but had only found the flooded hall, and some rooms full of rotten corpses and armories. They had pulled the doors to the stairs at the bottom closed and wedged it in case they had missed anything and decided to come up behind them.
Kazrack, Debo and Ratchis were able to free the doors and push them open. They were large iron doors, now brittle and corroded at the bottom creating blue-green striations that matched Kismet’s eyes.
The hall beyond went in both directions, but the party could hear and Gunthar explained that the right passage led to the grand room that led to the flooded hall.
“We will search the rest of this level first,” Kazrack said. “This is a citadel of my people and I must see the extent of the damage and what there is to be found.”
Gunthar rolled his eyes.
To the left the hall ended in a portcullis that was wedged open about three feet from the ground with a battleaxe.
“There are two more gates in here and some rooms we could not reach,” Gunthar explained. “We figured we’d check upstairs and then come back and smash the me open if we could not find the sword, but this is leading back towards the front of the citadel if you look at the old maps.”
“Where did you get old maps?” Martin asked.
“I have my way of getting things, Doughboy,” Gunthar winked. “Don’t question my methods.”
“Anyway, that’s the front, so it is unlikely the sword is over there,” the Neergaardian continued. “From what I could find out that rear hall reached to the lower halls, to the real dwarven city. I bet the sword and whatever you are looking for is down there.”
Anarie crawled under first, followed by Debo and then Ratchis. By the time the rest of the group came through, the elf had already scouted out the chamber. It was a vaulted accessway with portcullis to drive or avert traffic down one corridor or another. The gate leading towards what Gunthar said was the front had a long hall behind it filled with a rancid smell of mildew; only rags and muck was left whatever soldiers died in that hall, though the scraps of armor seemed to be of both dwarven and human make.
“The humans had managed to get in,” Frederick the Amazing said, drawing on his bardic lore. “And the high priest called an earthquake from the voiceless god, and the voiceless god spoke but a syllable and the invading army was swallowed by a great rent in the earth, but the citadel fell into it as well.”
“How do you know so much about dwarves?” Martin asked.
“Oh, I don’t know all that much about them, just a snippet of lore here or there, though I did make sure to learn as much as I could about this place before we came here,” Frederick replied.
“Oh, where’d you do that?”
“Oh, you know… here and there,” Frederick winked.
“The wheel for opening the gates is in that room,” Gunthar pointed to the right. “But Rondar the Dimwit slack-ass couldn’t figure out how to work it. There is some trick to it.”
“I’ll figure it out,” Kazrack and Anarie said at the same time. The dwarf moved to the door and opened it, but as he stepped in, a dark figure rushed out at him, punching the dwarf soundly in the face.
“Ugh!” Kazrack stumbled back.
It was a black-garbed monk, tall and wiry, though showing signs of having survived a fight or two, as the right side of his face was purple and swollen. His bare feet were scraped and bleeding.
“Ha! Son of Jocham!” the figure said. It was Vander. (5)
---------------------------------
Notes:
(1)
(2) DM’s Note: I made up my own form of ghoul and ghast templates, and decided that any priest with the power to control undead that becomes one of these becomes a kind of “master” ghast with the power to create and control other ghouls. This is what Arextes, a priest of Set in life, was.
(3) Elves need to be interred in designated elven land or their souls do not find rest in an afterlife. Instead, they stay and haunt the place where their body was.
(4) Rondar was the member of Gunthar’s crew that was stabilized at negative hit points and was slowly healing without aid of Aldovar’s healing magic.
(5) Vander was the leader of the monks that had captured the golden dire ram back in Session #31.
Session #60
“Wow. That’s a nice flail,” Frederick said, pointing to the golden dwarf-headed flail that Kazrack had taken off of the wight dwarf. “Mind if I take a closer look at it?”
Kazrack looked the bard up and down, but handed the weapon over without fear. He was still trying to digest all he had been told of what had transpired while he was on death’s door. Martin did not seem to be telling the whole story and Gunthar insisted they owed him their lives. Ratchis seemed eager to keep moving, trying to push the topic of a deal to be discussed later. However, he did want to talk with the rest of the Fearless Manticore Killers away from Gunthar and his crew.
Frederick oohed and aahed over the flail as he examined it.
“Where are you going?” Gunthar asked, suspiciously, as Ratchis cast light on a burnt out torch and opened the secret door.
“We are going out into the hall to talk privately,” Ratchis responded.
“Huh? Keeping secrets? Why should I let you go and plan some scheme to screw me and my crew over?” Gunthar spat. “What do you think I am green-eared?”
“Do you know anything about my goddess?” Ratchis asked.
“Yeah, I know about your goddess,” Gunthar replied, exasperated.
“Then you know I will not betray you.”
“Ha!” Gunthar spat again, and smiled. “Like a Friar of Nephthys never betrayed anyone.”
Ratchis just stared at Gunthar.
“You go and make your little schemes then if they are so important to you, just remember this is a dangerous place it is in both of our interests to work together, pig-f*cker.”
Ratchis snarled and walked away. By this time Anarie and Beorth were up as well, and they came out into the hall as well, followed by Martin and Kazrack. Schlomo and Kismet kind of hung out just outside of the doorway, not sure if they should join the conversation.
“Are we going to be down here much longer? I don’t like it,” Tuko whispered to Anarie in her mind. The fox shivered underneath her cloak.
“As long as if takes to help these people,” Anarie replied.
“I’m hungry,” Tuko said, changing the subject. “What do you think squirrel tastes like?” The scent of Thomas had whiffed into his nostrils.
“Hmmmm, I don’t know, but I have heard it tastes like chicken.”
“Mmmmmmm, chicken! I love chicken!”
“Hush Tuko!”
Martin went over everything that had happened since the fight with the troll the best he could, and explained about how the Square had been with Gunthar and his crew, but had since disappeared. He also explained that Gunthar and his people did not know that the gnomes were after the sword as well, and that they both want help finding the dragon-slaying sword. He also explained that the map-room was most likely in or beneath a level or more submerged beneath water. Anarie explained that she had the water-breathing spell in a book she carried, but was not yet able to use it. She gave Martin permission to study it, so that it might be used to get the party down there.
“We have potions, too,” Kismet added, walking over. Schlomo was right behind her.
“I don’t know if I feel comfortable helping that dragon take the sword,’ Ratchis said. “She is trying to limit her chances of being defeated. How does Tanweil fit in?”
“We don’t know how he found out about us,” said Schlomo, but he attacked us one night as we camped. He might have been secretly listening in to our planning or something. Called us ‘servants of the dragon’ and said only he deserved to wield the sword and destroy the dragon.”
“I see our options as these,” said Kismet. “Slay the dragon ourselves with your help, sneak the chieftain out, or trust the dragon to keep her word and bring her the sword.”
“I don’t know what we can do,” Ratchis said.
“It seems our word has been given for us twice,” Beorth said sullenly. “But I trust these men very little despite our still being alive and I do not trust their chances against the dragon, sword or no.”
“Oh, ho! I heard that!” Gunthar’s voice came from inside the secret room. “I heard you mention a sword. You are considering double-crossing me, aren’t ya?”
The blonde and bearded Neergaardian came out of the room.
“Pretend like me and Kismet are the ones you are betraying,” Schlomo whispered to Ratchis and Kazrack.
“Why should I have to lie?” Kazrack replied with disdain, a little too loudly.
“You don’t have to lie, just keep your mouth shut,” Ratchis responded with a hiss.
Gunthar walked over. “So what in the name of Bast’s sandbox are you guys planning?”
“We aren’t planning anything,” Ratchis said.
“We were just discussing that maybe we should not help you because we know of someone else who is after the sword,” Kazrack said.
Ratchis grunted in shock.
“I can’t believe you’d betray me that way!” Schlomo cried out, getting huffy. “I told you that information in confidence!”
The gnome stormed off, tossing Ratchis a wink.
The half-orc sighed, as Frederick came out to listen as well, carrying Kazrack’s flail to return it. “It is a man named Tanweil, except he may not be a man. He has appeared a green winged lizard man. He is very powerful.”
“You are making this sh*t up,” Gunthar replied. “You are damn bad liars.”
“It is the truth,” Martin said. “He appeared kind of draconic in origin. There is some connection between him and the dragon.”
Gunthar narrowed his eyes. “And this guy’s tough?”
“He killed several of our people, that is why we are after him,” Kismet added, lying well.
“Well, don’t your big-bulbous nose,” Gunthar said with a smile. “We’ll take care of him if we come across him. We’ll see what he makes of Debo. Right, Debo?”
“Debo kill,” Debo said.
“Or, you can let him get the sword and follow him to the dragon’s lair and let him soften her up before you enact you plan, whatever it might be,” Kazrack suggested.
“Wow, Stumpy. I didn’t know you could think that way,” Gunthar replied. “I mean, that sounds down right… uh…”
“Duplicitous,” Frederick suggested.
“Yeah! That, but I don’t think that will work with our plan,” Gunthar said. “Debo gets to use the sword in our plan, not that we are going to tell you what it is.”
“We don’t care what it is, and we don’t want to know,” Ratchis replied.
“Yeah, right…Uh-huh. Tell me another one,” Gunthar said, and then turned to Kismet who was walking off to ‘comfort’ Schlomo who was still seething. “Tell yer little friend that if he worried that if we find the sword first that we’ll just take off with it and then he can’t use to draw out this lizard-guy for your little ill-thought-out revenge scheme, then he is exactly right. No need to make more enemies than ya need, especially not some dragon-man flying thing.”
“Debo kill dragon-thing,” Debo said.
“You just may have to,” Gunthar replied.
Frederick the Amazing told Kazrack about his flail. (1)
“You must be very honored to wield such a weapon,” Frederick said.
“I am even more honored now that I know more about it,” Kazrack replied, grinning as he hefted and spun the weapon. The gold gleamed in the light of Ratchis’ enchanted torch.
It was agreed that one more night would be spent holed away in the secret room before continuing to explore. Gunthar explained that he and his party had entered through uncovered doors one level below and had not found much down there except more bone shards and powder, and some armories with mostly rusted weapons, and a great curving hall that went deep down into the earth, but looked partially collapsed and entirely flooded.
Martin spent the day studying Anarie’s version of the water-breathing spell and many tedious hours later, people of both groups began dropping off to sleep. Kazrack took the first watch with Frederick, but as Martin’s ring had kicked in, he stayed up as well, and watched along with Gunthar when he was awakened by Kazrack for second watch.
“Ugh,” Gunthar grimaced when he opened his eyes and saw Kazrack over him. “For a second there I thought I was being woken up by my date, but the funny thing is I’ve been woken up by uglier women.”
The warrior laughed and strapped on his armor. The watch-mage and foul-mouth fighter had not been watching too long. In fact, Kazrack’s snore had just begun to lend support to Debo’s, when there was a banging sound above them, even as the secret door began to open of its own accord.
Gunthar stepped over to the space beneath the ladder up to the trapdoor, as the lantern was positioned there and burning low. There was a violent bang above as he leaned forward to open the light wider, and a figure came plummeting down, slamming into Gunthar who went stumbling into where Anarie sat in reverie.
The secret door opened and Martin the Green could see the slouched form of Aldovar of Asmodeus, his skin was now nacreous, and his eyes a dull red fire.
“I knew we should have dealt with those bodies right away,” Martin cursed under his breath, stepping on Ratchis purposefully to wake him.
“Lentus! Martin chanted and suddenly Aldovar’s undead form swayed more slowly.
“Sleep!” Aldovar commanded, and Martin felt a weight upon his eyes, but he shook it off, even as he was forced to leap back to keep from getting the full brunt of the undead priest’s black clawed hands. Martin felt a rigidity go through his limbs, but again he was able to shake it off.
Ratchis leapt to his feet, not wasting time with questions. “Wake up! To arms! To arms!” he cried, scooping up his great axe and seeing that Gunthar seemed to have the other figure well in hand, chopped at the ghoulish form of Aldovar, biting deep into bone.
Martin could now see that the short lanky form that snarled as Gunthar bit into it with a long sword, was none other than the Square. However, his skin was deathly white, and his eyes blank and yellowed.
Ratchis moving into melee gave Martin a chance to withdraw from the fight and cast mage armor on himself, while Anarie got to her feet with a quick leap, not sure of which way to go to join the fight effectively.
Gunthar laughed as he cut the Square into pieces and kicked at the still moving parts. “Ya should’nt’ve wandered off there Squiddy,” he spat at the pieces. They stopped moving and the Square was no more.
The temperature in the already cold room dropped suddenly as the ghostly figure of the black robed priest that the Fearless Manticore Killers had faced on the level above came gliding into the room through the wall.
“Debo hate ghost-thing!” Debo cried, swinging his axe with great violence. The weight of the great blade seemed to drag him forward and swipe through the ghost form just as he became corporeal. A trail of clotted blood and rotten gore rained from the ghast’s shoulder. (2)
“You will serve me or will be served to me, choose!” the priest-ghast hissed.
“Arextes!” Frederick cried up jumping to his feet to keep from getting crushed in the melee. He recognized the figure from some of the tales of the final battles of this citadel. “He was a priest of Set, and a commander of some Black Island forces during the Mountain Wars.”
Aldovar and Ratchis traded blows and the half-orc staggered. Martin crept up behind him and helped with a mage armor, as Ratchis had not worn his more mundane version while sleeping.
“Sagitta Magicus,” Anarie chanted and sent an arrow of light streaming at Arextes. They could see him more clearly that ever before now, he had the face of a middle-aged man pock-marked and warted, but now raw and greenish-white, his neck and left ear and part of his face burned off in life. Gunthar spun on him, his swords ringing as they struck each other, going through the partially incorporeal form to no effect. He swung with such frustration that his long sword went flying from his grip, landing over by Schlomo who had awakened and was making his way to aid against Arextes.
“Natan-Ahb! I beseech you. I am your willing servant, use me to show these creatures your wrath!” Kazrack intoned. He stood with great vigor, clutching his bag of runestones about his neck. Unfortunately, the undead were too powerful to be turned.
“Bing-badda-Bing! Bing! The best thing I can do is sing!” Frederick said, stepping back behind Martin to get cover from both foes, projecting his almost comical tenor.
“Sagitta Magicus!” Anotehr two missiles came flying from the elf’s finger.
“Damn you!” Arextes cursed. “You shall die and be devoured here. You will never reach elven lands!” (3)
Gunthar howled as he hurried past to get his sword at the same moment that a horrid stench began to erupt from the black-robed serpent undead priest. Anarie and Kazrack could feel their bodies weaken, as their stomachs turned. Gunthar pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and nose, while Schlomo juste ignored it and stepped in, feeling his hammer strike something as it swung through the incorporeal form. Arextes lurched towards Kazrack as if about to charge and then disappeared with an audible ‘pop’.
Debo shouldered him way beside Ratchis who was desperately trying to finish Aldovar, and brought his axe down cleaving the priest’s torso in two large blood-erupting pieces.
“Debo hate dead Aldovar!” Debo said. “Aldovar deader!”
“Where did the other one go?” Beorth asked. He had never had room to get into range and strike a blow, though his sword was ready.
“Are they gone?” Frederick asked, stopping his song.
“Yes, I think so,” Martin replied.
“What in the Hells was that thing?” Gunthar asked. “And how do you kill it?”
“That is what we have been trying to figure out. We faced him twice already. This was the third time. He turns our dead against us.”
“Stay dead!” Debo said to the corpse of the foreign priest, chopping it into smaller pieces with his axe to be certain. “Only Debo can’t die.”
“”Enough!” Beorth commanded, and amazingly the barbarian stopped, but snarled at the paladin, stalking away.
Ratchis stripped the Square’s body, and Gunthar had Debo and Rondar (who had finally woken up) (4) do the same to Aldovar’s.
This time they burned their remains.
Rondar, the Fearless Manticore Killers soon found out was the least likeable of all of Gunthar’s crew. From the moment he woke up he had mumbled and wheezed a string of complaints and accusations, when he was not too busy laughing at the misfortune of others all he could do was bemoan his own. Ratchis could smell Debo’s desire to kill the whiny man.
Tholem, the 18th of Sek – 565 H.E.
The next day both groups seemed happy to be moving one, except for Rondar.
“I think we should just leave this place,” he whined to Gunthar, looking at Ratchis with great fear in his rheumy eyes. The man seemed unreasonably tall, skinny and angular. He seemed to do everything awkwardly.
“Rondar is good for nothing ‘cept pissing his pants,” Gunthar said to Kazrack, as the two groups spread out and made their way to the steps down to the next level.
“Then why keep him around?” Kazrack asked.
“Eh… He’s another target. He’ll be the one that sets off the killer trap since he is supposedly our ‘boxman’. Heh. The only box that one ever opened was his momma’s and from the inside. I hoped that sewed that bitch up so no more of his kind could slip out that crack.”
“Um…”
“Of course, all the pleasure is in sticking something in there, eh?” Gunthar elbowed Kazrack lasciviously in the head.
“I don’t think you should talk to Kazrack about that kind of stuff,” Frederick said, catching up to them. “I have heard that dwarves are virgins until they marry. Are you married Kazrack?”
The bard had a mischievous smile.
“No,” the dwarf replied and Gunthar and Frederick burst out laughing.
“Hey, Rondar!” Gunthar called to his companion momentarily forgetting his disgust with him in order to share the joke. “Stumpy here has never planted his hammer against some dwarven anvil.”
Rondar guffawed.
The stairs down were ten feet wide and made of cracked marble supported by stone beams that were carved with the image of scores of dwarves, each on each other’s back working an anvil. Kazrack was awed by the sight of it, but saddened that dripping water had worn many of the detailed sections away, and he could see large cracks in some that made him worry about the stability of the stairs, but luckily they had already pass over that part by the time he was in a position to see it.
Gunthar explained that they had entered on the level above, and had come down and looked around, but had only found the flooded hall, and some rooms full of rotten corpses and armories. They had pulled the doors to the stairs at the bottom closed and wedged it in case they had missed anything and decided to come up behind them.
Kazrack, Debo and Ratchis were able to free the doors and push them open. They were large iron doors, now brittle and corroded at the bottom creating blue-green striations that matched Kismet’s eyes.
The hall beyond went in both directions, but the party could hear and Gunthar explained that the right passage led to the grand room that led to the flooded hall.
“We will search the rest of this level first,” Kazrack said. “This is a citadel of my people and I must see the extent of the damage and what there is to be found.”
Gunthar rolled his eyes.
To the left the hall ended in a portcullis that was wedged open about three feet from the ground with a battleaxe.
“There are two more gates in here and some rooms we could not reach,” Gunthar explained. “We figured we’d check upstairs and then come back and smash the me open if we could not find the sword, but this is leading back towards the front of the citadel if you look at the old maps.”
“Where did you get old maps?” Martin asked.
“I have my way of getting things, Doughboy,” Gunthar winked. “Don’t question my methods.”
“Anyway, that’s the front, so it is unlikely the sword is over there,” the Neergaardian continued. “From what I could find out that rear hall reached to the lower halls, to the real dwarven city. I bet the sword and whatever you are looking for is down there.”
Anarie crawled under first, followed by Debo and then Ratchis. By the time the rest of the group came through, the elf had already scouted out the chamber. It was a vaulted accessway with portcullis to drive or avert traffic down one corridor or another. The gate leading towards what Gunthar said was the front had a long hall behind it filled with a rancid smell of mildew; only rags and muck was left whatever soldiers died in that hall, though the scraps of armor seemed to be of both dwarven and human make.
“The humans had managed to get in,” Frederick the Amazing said, drawing on his bardic lore. “And the high priest called an earthquake from the voiceless god, and the voiceless god spoke but a syllable and the invading army was swallowed by a great rent in the earth, but the citadel fell into it as well.”
“How do you know so much about dwarves?” Martin asked.
“Oh, I don’t know all that much about them, just a snippet of lore here or there, though I did make sure to learn as much as I could about this place before we came here,” Frederick replied.
“Oh, where’d you do that?”
“Oh, you know… here and there,” Frederick winked.
“The wheel for opening the gates is in that room,” Gunthar pointed to the right. “But Rondar the Dimwit slack-ass couldn’t figure out how to work it. There is some trick to it.”
“I’ll figure it out,” Kazrack and Anarie said at the same time. The dwarf moved to the door and opened it, but as he stepped in, a dark figure rushed out at him, punching the dwarf soundly in the face.
“Ugh!” Kazrack stumbled back.
It was a black-garbed monk, tall and wiry, though showing signs of having survived a fight or two, as the right side of his face was purple and swollen. His bare feet were scraped and bleeding.
“Ha! Son of Jocham!” the figure said. It was Vander. (5)
---------------------------------
Notes:
(1)
Ororon-Thiduil - This golden light flail is banded with obsidian at the top and bottom of the handle. The head of the flail, affixed by a chain of black metal is shaped like a dwarf’s head with a beard of black metal and eyes made of two shining rubies.
The name Ororon-Thiduil, can be translated to mean “Dwarves Golden Pride”, but a more accurate translation would be “unconquerable will of the dwarven people”.
This light flail is enchanted with a +2 enhancement bonus. In addition, while wielding the flail the wielder benefits from the arrow-cutting feat.
Arrow-Cutting: Once per round, when you would normally be hit by a missile weapon, you may make a Reflex Save against DC 20 to knock it out of the way with your weapon, if it drawn. You must be aware of the attack and not flat-footed. If the missile is magical, the magical plus is added to the DC. Arquebus fire cannot be deflected; nor can exceptional missiles, such as boulders thrown by a giant or spells like Melf’s Acid Arrow.
The name Ororon-Thiduil, can be translated to mean “Dwarves Golden Pride”, but a more accurate translation would be “unconquerable will of the dwarven people”.
This light flail is enchanted with a +2 enhancement bonus. In addition, while wielding the flail the wielder benefits from the arrow-cutting feat.
Arrow-Cutting: Once per round, when you would normally be hit by a missile weapon, you may make a Reflex Save against DC 20 to knock it out of the way with your weapon, if it drawn. You must be aware of the attack and not flat-footed. If the missile is magical, the magical plus is added to the DC. Arquebus fire cannot be deflected; nor can exceptional missiles, such as boulders thrown by a giant or spells like Melf’s Acid Arrow.
(2) DM’s Note: I made up my own form of ghoul and ghast templates, and decided that any priest with the power to control undead that becomes one of these becomes a kind of “master” ghast with the power to create and control other ghouls. This is what Arextes, a priest of Set in life, was.
(3) Elves need to be interred in designated elven land or their souls do not find rest in an afterlife. Instead, they stay and haunt the place where their body was.
(4) Rondar was the member of Gunthar’s crew that was stabilized at negative hit points and was slowly healing without aid of Aldovar’s healing magic.
(5) Vander was the leader of the monks that had captured the golden dire ram back in Session #31.
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Elder-Basilisk
First Post
Hooray! One of the leading story hours is updated. And it's a good update too.
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