el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #74
Up and out of the ravine they hurried, making towards the river, which cut out the edge of the steep barren hill that bordered the western side of the plain. They could hear the hundred or more orcs cheering and roaring in great number in their camp on the other side of the rise.
Each time after he led the party of a copse of trees to hide and wait for his return, Ratchis hurried ahead to assure that the path was clear. It was very slow going, and twice Logan complained that speed to outdistance the threat was the better solution. Ratchis nodded, and continued doing it his way.
In the long light of the late afternoon, they made a dash for a series of tall vertical rocky outcrops on the edge of where the river came around the great bluff. The outcrops looked like they had long ago been worn into drooping columns of brown gritty stone by the flooding of the river. The water could be clearly heard, and the orc camp was several miles behind them to the east.
“Wait!” Ratchis hissed, putting up a hand. There was another sound reaching them over the sound of the water. Larger splashing and harsh deep voices. There were orcs in the river ahead, obscured from view by the stone pillars. The half-orc ranger crept forward to check it out, and returned quickly.
“Little more than a dozen,” he whispered to the others. “They’re fishing. We’ll wait here for them to go on their way and then make it across the river.”
Gunthar rolled his eyes and leaned against one of the outcroppings.
“We can kill that many, easy,” Logan whispered back.
Gunthar nodded.
“And then have another two hundred on our backs?” Ratchis sneered. “No.”
“He has a point,” said Kazrack. “We may be spotted here and have to fight anyway. Why not get it over with quick and hurry across the river. Maybe by the time they are noticed we will be long gone, and anyway, can’t you cover our trail?”
“And maybe there are more of them around the bend in the river, or maybe one will get away in the confusion, or very likely one has a horn to blown as a warning of danger,” Ratchis replied, gritting is teeth to keep his voice down. “And, they very likely have adept trackers with them. It is not worth the risk.”
“I agree,” said Martin. “Let’s stay alert in case we do have to fight them, but if we can avoid being spotted at all we certainly should do so.”
“Bloody pansies!” Gunthar swore, too loud.
“Keep it down!” Ratchis hissed.
“Look, I’ll go kill them myself,” Gunthar said. “There are only, what? Fourteen of them? No problem.”
“Heh, go ahead,” Logan said.
“You saying I can’t take on a dozen piggies myself?”
“I’m saying I would like to see you try,” Logan replied.
Gunthar pulled his sword, and began to walk through the rough pillars towards the river. Ratchis stepped in front of him.
“No one is going anywhere,” he said. “We’re waiting.”
Kazrack and Martin nodded.
An hour passed, and still the loud orcish voices splashed in the river. Martin made himself and Ratchis invisible and they crept forward to listen in on the conversation.
“You better catch more fish than that,” said one of the loudest orcs. Though invisible, the two Keepers of the Gate remained out of sight lest their footprints or breathing might give them away.
“Yeah, if she is returning tonight like the shaman says she may be hungry,” said a whiny voice that wheezed a lot.
“If she’s hungry and we haven’t brought enough fish we’ll all be fed to her, so shut up and get some more,” said another raspier voice.
“By Ashronk’s Eye! There she is! She’s returning! Grab what you got and let’s go!” said the first voice again.
The splashing became more frantic and the rest of the party could hear the footfalls and grunts of the orcs as they ran past through the rocking outcropping, but never coming over to their end of the group of stone pillars.
Martin and Ratchis sat very still as orcs in patchwork studded leather armor, with bows on their back and spears in their hands, went bounding past them. Half of them had bulging sack over their shoulders and the water that dripped through the canvas was flung in all directions with each bounding step.
Soon, they were gone.
“Did you see that?” Logan pointed to the darkening sky to the east. Kazrack and Dorn looked, and both thought they could see the shadow of something descend from a cloud toward where the orc camp would be.
“What was that?” Kazrack asked.
“It looked, well… draconic to me,” Logan said, a bit of nervousness crept into his voice.
”The wyvern?” Martin asked, coming back to the others, but still invisible. They all jumped.
“Next time let us know you are returning before you speak so suddenly like that,” Kazrack spat.
“And how should we do that, whistle?” Ratchis replied, invisible as well. “And we all know that was not the wyvern. That is the ‘she’ the orcs were talking about. They used the word ‘tashmar’.” (1)
“Tashmar? That’s like ‘big smart monster’ right?” Martin guessed.
“With the ‘thot’ inflection, and the fact that when they ran past I could see they had a dragon tattoo about their neck and down their left arm…” Ratchis began.
“Wait, you have that same tattoo,” Kazrack interrupted.
“Yes,” the half-orc replied. “These are the Darksh. My people. Or at least a group that has their origins with them, and that is why I know that was not the wyvern you saw. It was the dragon.”
“All the more reason to get out of here,” Dorn said,
“I’ve with the cabin boy,” Gunthar said. “That dragon is the reason plans were invented, and I am not ready to spring the plan.”
“Why do you think they are gathering here?” Kazrack asked.
“I am not sure, but we are far south of their usual territory,” Ratchis replied. “Whatever the reason, we cannot afford to stay here much longer.”
Martin nodded. “A dragon’s senses are acute. She might already know we are here.”
Ratchis ran off to make sure the orcs were really gone and then he led the party across the river and westward up on to the bluffs before slowly being able to move northeastward again, many miles away and much further up, and that would be days from now.
Isilem, the 23rd of Quark
As evening of the next day fell the Keepers of the Gate followed an ever-widening gorge on their right created by the river now far below. The path they followed was strewn with sharp rocks and steep in many places. Several times the llama’s cries echoed against the bluff, causing everyone to look around expectantly, but nothing ever came.
Ratchis was annoyed. He had thought that there would be a way to cross the gorge or go down into it and find a way up the other side before darkness, but as the gorge became wider and wider this seemed to be less and less likely.
Martin the Green looked at his maps again and again, but they were not detailed enough to give any clue of the best route.
The Keepers of the Gate were about ready to give up and find the best campsite they could when they came around a corner and there creaking in the breeze was a rope bridge with wooden slats, reaching across a narrower portion of the gorge. It was about seventy feet to the other side.
“Can you use a bow?” Ratchis asked Logan as the party approached the bridge. The other side was getting harder and harder to see with each passing moment.
Logan nodded.
“Use this,” the half-orc passed the young Herman-Lander the masterwork composite bow he had purchased back in Summit months before. “But it is just a loan.” (2)
“Okay,” Logan replied, and he fit an arrow to it and smiled as he pulled it back to his chin. The others stood ready as well, as Ratchis began to slowly make his way across the bridge.
The bridge protested with each careful step of the half-orc, and he clutched onto the rope handles as it jerked back and forth from his weight and the wind. He looked down and there was only darkness and the echoed gurgle of the river below.
Suddenly, the rope bridge began to jerk more violently. A tall shadowy loping figure was making its way from the other side of the bridge. It had long arms, which it used to leap across the bouncing boards.
“Troll!” Ratchis cried, turning around to get back to the side of the bridge where his companions awaited.
Logan let two arrows fly into the lumbering form as it emerged from the darkness and Dorn moved up onto a rock to get a shot from the left. The missiles buried themselves deep into the green and yellow mottled flesh of the humanoid monster, but it did not slow.
Ratchis leapt around and drew his great sword as he made it to the end of the bridge, and drawing his halberd, Kazrack stepped beside him, blocking egress from the bridge.
The voices of the half-orc and the dwarf called to their respective gods to grant them bull’s strength.
“Lentus!,” chanted Martin and the monster stopped, though its wiry black locks flapped beneath its chin, but the watch-mage could tell it was not because it had been affected by the spell.
The troll began to back up in the direction it came from, eying Kazrack and Ratchis readied at the end of the bridge. It snarled as another arrow from Logan cut through one of its long pointed ears.
“It’s retreating!” Kazrack cried, and suddenly the monster was no longer on the bridge, but leaping high in the air and down at the two of them, screaming with horrific glee.
Ratchis stepped back as a claw reached for his face and brought his great sword down on the troll’s shoulder as he withdrew from the ferocity of the attack. . Kazrack barely managed to duck the thing’s other sinewy arm, and drew back as well. They had successful drawn the eager monster off the bridge.
Logan dropped the bow and drew his long sword, throwing his body into a shoulder roll to avoid the thing’s claws, and then leaping to his feet and slashing the thing in the chest and upper thigh.
Two more crossbow bolts buried themselves into the troll, flying from the weapons of Martin and Dorn. It spun around and found Kazrack’s halberd being shoved into its face. Green blood spurted out and it scream and broke its own teeth biting at the metal. The dwarf used his leverage to turn it towards Ratchis who brought two merciless blows down on the back of the thing’s neck. There was a loud crack and it collapsed to the ground.
It lay there for a second, and then Kazrack pierced its side with his pole-arm, shoving the blade deep into its innards.
Gunthar stood ten feet away, his swords resting on his shoulders and laughed. He threw both blades into the dirt and grabbed a flask of oil from his pack on the llama and began to pour it over the troll’s corpse.
Ratchis cut its arms and legs off and piled them up, and Martin lit a torch to the thing. The thing’s head began to scream, but then gurgled and was silent. Soon all that was left was a black tarry ash.
“So that’s a troll, huh?” Logan said. “Doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Let’s just hope there aren’t more,” Ratchis said.
“And they are bad, very bad,” Martin added. “We just happen to know how to defeat them.”
“And if he has brothers it might still get bad,” Ratchis said.
It took nearly an hour for the group to cross the bridge one at a time and bound with a rope. Ratchis went first, followed by Logan. Logan then kept watch as Ratchis held the rope and helped the others across. Gunthar and Martin struggled to get Fearless to walk across the bridge, but finally Ratchis went across and calmed the animal and led it across himself.
“I’m really surprised the llama’s cries hasn’t drawn the attention of more mon. . .,” Martin spun around as a tall figure leapt out of the darkness. This side of the bluff was dotted with low spindly barren trees in tall weedy grass, and for a moment it seemed as if one of the trees had come to life.
“Lentus!” Martin cried, and this time it worked. The new troll’s ferocity was suddenly comic in slow motion.
Kazrack charged it and thrust his halberd into its chest, drawing a bloom of green blood to join that of the last troll still staining his chest plate and helm.
Once again Logan, sword in hand, tumbled within the thing’s reach too quickly for it to react, and slashed deep into it. Dorn tried to follow, but felt the weight of the thing’s claws rake his brow and he fell onto his rear.
“Why not take a load off, cabin boy?” Gunthar quipped, moving to pen the monster in from the left, as Ratchis came around from the right.
The troll brought its arms close; as if trying to bear hug Logan, but the small man ducked and twisted backward bring his sword down across the thing’s forearms, slicing tendons. The thing screamed and waved the arms about throwing showers of blood in all directions.
“Don’t give it a chance to heal!” Ratchis cried, bringing his own sword down on its back. It stumbled back toward Logan who chopped it as it fell.
Kazrack moved to drive his halberd into this troll as well, but it leapt to its feet, and swung one of its arms at the dwarf. The blow rang on the dwarf’s armor, but did no harm. Ratchis hacked the thing again, and again it fell. Logan drove his sword through the thing’s shoulder until it bit the earth beneath, pinning the troll there as Dorn poured oil all over it. In a moment it was burning.
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Notes:
(1) The orcish language has a very limited vocabulary and often re-uses many of the same words for various degrees of meaning or variations of qualities by apply certain inflections and guttural nuances to them.
(2) DM’s Note: This bow is built to give a bonus to damage up to a Strength score of 14.
Up and out of the ravine they hurried, making towards the river, which cut out the edge of the steep barren hill that bordered the western side of the plain. They could hear the hundred or more orcs cheering and roaring in great number in their camp on the other side of the rise.
Each time after he led the party of a copse of trees to hide and wait for his return, Ratchis hurried ahead to assure that the path was clear. It was very slow going, and twice Logan complained that speed to outdistance the threat was the better solution. Ratchis nodded, and continued doing it his way.
In the long light of the late afternoon, they made a dash for a series of tall vertical rocky outcrops on the edge of where the river came around the great bluff. The outcrops looked like they had long ago been worn into drooping columns of brown gritty stone by the flooding of the river. The water could be clearly heard, and the orc camp was several miles behind them to the east.
“Wait!” Ratchis hissed, putting up a hand. There was another sound reaching them over the sound of the water. Larger splashing and harsh deep voices. There were orcs in the river ahead, obscured from view by the stone pillars. The half-orc ranger crept forward to check it out, and returned quickly.
“Little more than a dozen,” he whispered to the others. “They’re fishing. We’ll wait here for them to go on their way and then make it across the river.”
Gunthar rolled his eyes and leaned against one of the outcroppings.
“We can kill that many, easy,” Logan whispered back.
Gunthar nodded.
“And then have another two hundred on our backs?” Ratchis sneered. “No.”
“He has a point,” said Kazrack. “We may be spotted here and have to fight anyway. Why not get it over with quick and hurry across the river. Maybe by the time they are noticed we will be long gone, and anyway, can’t you cover our trail?”
“And maybe there are more of them around the bend in the river, or maybe one will get away in the confusion, or very likely one has a horn to blown as a warning of danger,” Ratchis replied, gritting is teeth to keep his voice down. “And, they very likely have adept trackers with them. It is not worth the risk.”
“I agree,” said Martin. “Let’s stay alert in case we do have to fight them, but if we can avoid being spotted at all we certainly should do so.”
“Bloody pansies!” Gunthar swore, too loud.
“Keep it down!” Ratchis hissed.
“Look, I’ll go kill them myself,” Gunthar said. “There are only, what? Fourteen of them? No problem.”
“Heh, go ahead,” Logan said.
“You saying I can’t take on a dozen piggies myself?”
“I’m saying I would like to see you try,” Logan replied.
Gunthar pulled his sword, and began to walk through the rough pillars towards the river. Ratchis stepped in front of him.
“No one is going anywhere,” he said. “We’re waiting.”
Kazrack and Martin nodded.
An hour passed, and still the loud orcish voices splashed in the river. Martin made himself and Ratchis invisible and they crept forward to listen in on the conversation.
“You better catch more fish than that,” said one of the loudest orcs. Though invisible, the two Keepers of the Gate remained out of sight lest their footprints or breathing might give them away.
“Yeah, if she is returning tonight like the shaman says she may be hungry,” said a whiny voice that wheezed a lot.
“If she’s hungry and we haven’t brought enough fish we’ll all be fed to her, so shut up and get some more,” said another raspier voice.
“By Ashronk’s Eye! There she is! She’s returning! Grab what you got and let’s go!” said the first voice again.
The splashing became more frantic and the rest of the party could hear the footfalls and grunts of the orcs as they ran past through the rocking outcropping, but never coming over to their end of the group of stone pillars.
Martin and Ratchis sat very still as orcs in patchwork studded leather armor, with bows on their back and spears in their hands, went bounding past them. Half of them had bulging sack over their shoulders and the water that dripped through the canvas was flung in all directions with each bounding step.
Soon, they were gone.
“Did you see that?” Logan pointed to the darkening sky to the east. Kazrack and Dorn looked, and both thought they could see the shadow of something descend from a cloud toward where the orc camp would be.
“What was that?” Kazrack asked.
“It looked, well… draconic to me,” Logan said, a bit of nervousness crept into his voice.
”The wyvern?” Martin asked, coming back to the others, but still invisible. They all jumped.
“Next time let us know you are returning before you speak so suddenly like that,” Kazrack spat.
“And how should we do that, whistle?” Ratchis replied, invisible as well. “And we all know that was not the wyvern. That is the ‘she’ the orcs were talking about. They used the word ‘tashmar’.” (1)
“Tashmar? That’s like ‘big smart monster’ right?” Martin guessed.
“With the ‘thot’ inflection, and the fact that when they ran past I could see they had a dragon tattoo about their neck and down their left arm…” Ratchis began.
“Wait, you have that same tattoo,” Kazrack interrupted.
“Yes,” the half-orc replied. “These are the Darksh. My people. Or at least a group that has their origins with them, and that is why I know that was not the wyvern you saw. It was the dragon.”
“All the more reason to get out of here,” Dorn said,
“I’ve with the cabin boy,” Gunthar said. “That dragon is the reason plans were invented, and I am not ready to spring the plan.”
“Why do you think they are gathering here?” Kazrack asked.
“I am not sure, but we are far south of their usual territory,” Ratchis replied. “Whatever the reason, we cannot afford to stay here much longer.”
Martin nodded. “A dragon’s senses are acute. She might already know we are here.”
Ratchis ran off to make sure the orcs were really gone and then he led the party across the river and westward up on to the bluffs before slowly being able to move northeastward again, many miles away and much further up, and that would be days from now.
Isilem, the 23rd of Quark
As evening of the next day fell the Keepers of the Gate followed an ever-widening gorge on their right created by the river now far below. The path they followed was strewn with sharp rocks and steep in many places. Several times the llama’s cries echoed against the bluff, causing everyone to look around expectantly, but nothing ever came.
Ratchis was annoyed. He had thought that there would be a way to cross the gorge or go down into it and find a way up the other side before darkness, but as the gorge became wider and wider this seemed to be less and less likely.
Martin the Green looked at his maps again and again, but they were not detailed enough to give any clue of the best route.
The Keepers of the Gate were about ready to give up and find the best campsite they could when they came around a corner and there creaking in the breeze was a rope bridge with wooden slats, reaching across a narrower portion of the gorge. It was about seventy feet to the other side.
“Can you use a bow?” Ratchis asked Logan as the party approached the bridge. The other side was getting harder and harder to see with each passing moment.
Logan nodded.
“Use this,” the half-orc passed the young Herman-Lander the masterwork composite bow he had purchased back in Summit months before. “But it is just a loan.” (2)
“Okay,” Logan replied, and he fit an arrow to it and smiled as he pulled it back to his chin. The others stood ready as well, as Ratchis began to slowly make his way across the bridge.
The bridge protested with each careful step of the half-orc, and he clutched onto the rope handles as it jerked back and forth from his weight and the wind. He looked down and there was only darkness and the echoed gurgle of the river below.
Suddenly, the rope bridge began to jerk more violently. A tall shadowy loping figure was making its way from the other side of the bridge. It had long arms, which it used to leap across the bouncing boards.
“Troll!” Ratchis cried, turning around to get back to the side of the bridge where his companions awaited.
Logan let two arrows fly into the lumbering form as it emerged from the darkness and Dorn moved up onto a rock to get a shot from the left. The missiles buried themselves deep into the green and yellow mottled flesh of the humanoid monster, but it did not slow.
Ratchis leapt around and drew his great sword as he made it to the end of the bridge, and drawing his halberd, Kazrack stepped beside him, blocking egress from the bridge.
The voices of the half-orc and the dwarf called to their respective gods to grant them bull’s strength.
“Lentus!,” chanted Martin and the monster stopped, though its wiry black locks flapped beneath its chin, but the watch-mage could tell it was not because it had been affected by the spell.
The troll began to back up in the direction it came from, eying Kazrack and Ratchis readied at the end of the bridge. It snarled as another arrow from Logan cut through one of its long pointed ears.
“It’s retreating!” Kazrack cried, and suddenly the monster was no longer on the bridge, but leaping high in the air and down at the two of them, screaming with horrific glee.
Ratchis stepped back as a claw reached for his face and brought his great sword down on the troll’s shoulder as he withdrew from the ferocity of the attack. . Kazrack barely managed to duck the thing’s other sinewy arm, and drew back as well. They had successful drawn the eager monster off the bridge.
Logan dropped the bow and drew his long sword, throwing his body into a shoulder roll to avoid the thing’s claws, and then leaping to his feet and slashing the thing in the chest and upper thigh.
Two more crossbow bolts buried themselves into the troll, flying from the weapons of Martin and Dorn. It spun around and found Kazrack’s halberd being shoved into its face. Green blood spurted out and it scream and broke its own teeth biting at the metal. The dwarf used his leverage to turn it towards Ratchis who brought two merciless blows down on the back of the thing’s neck. There was a loud crack and it collapsed to the ground.
It lay there for a second, and then Kazrack pierced its side with his pole-arm, shoving the blade deep into its innards.
Gunthar stood ten feet away, his swords resting on his shoulders and laughed. He threw both blades into the dirt and grabbed a flask of oil from his pack on the llama and began to pour it over the troll’s corpse.
Ratchis cut its arms and legs off and piled them up, and Martin lit a torch to the thing. The thing’s head began to scream, but then gurgled and was silent. Soon all that was left was a black tarry ash.
“So that’s a troll, huh?” Logan said. “Doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Let’s just hope there aren’t more,” Ratchis said.
“And they are bad, very bad,” Martin added. “We just happen to know how to defeat them.”
“And if he has brothers it might still get bad,” Ratchis said.
It took nearly an hour for the group to cross the bridge one at a time and bound with a rope. Ratchis went first, followed by Logan. Logan then kept watch as Ratchis held the rope and helped the others across. Gunthar and Martin struggled to get Fearless to walk across the bridge, but finally Ratchis went across and calmed the animal and led it across himself.
“I’m really surprised the llama’s cries hasn’t drawn the attention of more mon. . .,” Martin spun around as a tall figure leapt out of the darkness. This side of the bluff was dotted with low spindly barren trees in tall weedy grass, and for a moment it seemed as if one of the trees had come to life.
“Lentus!” Martin cried, and this time it worked. The new troll’s ferocity was suddenly comic in slow motion.
Kazrack charged it and thrust his halberd into its chest, drawing a bloom of green blood to join that of the last troll still staining his chest plate and helm.
Once again Logan, sword in hand, tumbled within the thing’s reach too quickly for it to react, and slashed deep into it. Dorn tried to follow, but felt the weight of the thing’s claws rake his brow and he fell onto his rear.
“Why not take a load off, cabin boy?” Gunthar quipped, moving to pen the monster in from the left, as Ratchis came around from the right.
The troll brought its arms close; as if trying to bear hug Logan, but the small man ducked and twisted backward bring his sword down across the thing’s forearms, slicing tendons. The thing screamed and waved the arms about throwing showers of blood in all directions.
“Don’t give it a chance to heal!” Ratchis cried, bringing his own sword down on its back. It stumbled back toward Logan who chopped it as it fell.
Kazrack moved to drive his halberd into this troll as well, but it leapt to its feet, and swung one of its arms at the dwarf. The blow rang on the dwarf’s armor, but did no harm. Ratchis hacked the thing again, and again it fell. Logan drove his sword through the thing’s shoulder until it bit the earth beneath, pinning the troll there as Dorn poured oil all over it. In a moment it was burning.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) The orcish language has a very limited vocabulary and often re-uses many of the same words for various degrees of meaning or variations of qualities by apply certain inflections and guttural nuances to them.
(2) DM’s Note: This bow is built to give a bonus to damage up to a Strength score of 14.
