Session #101 (part ii)
Osilem, 24th of Keent - 564 H.E.
“Ach, ya ned tah use the sahm stun ta be far. The dwarf said it.” Kazrack heard a distantly familiar voice come down to him from the top of a grassy hill. He looked around as a light breeze broke the stifling heat of a late summer in Verdun. There were tall green oaks, and small flowering bushes lining rows of tomb stones, and in the distance he saw the occasional tomb. The sun’s glare was peeking out from behind the huge mausoleum to his left. There was a good-sized stone in his hands. He felt healthy and unwounded.
“Aye! Kahz-rock! Whut is takin’ ya suh long? Ya sent the witch, ‘ave ya?” the voice came down to him again, and the dwarf looked up the hill and began to climb it. The voice was coming from black-haired man in studded leather armor, wearing a color kilt of orange and red, and had a bastard sword strapped to his back. He hopped back and forth; restless.
“Muh-muh…Malcolm?” Kazrack said he came to the top of the hill. From here he could see the walls of Verdun nearby (1), but more amazingly he could now see that Malcom Mac-Duligh was not up here alone. There was tall man with a shaved head in a suit of scale mail, the butt of his quarterstaff resting on the ground, and a silver jackal’s head about his neck. There was a young woman with dark brown hair, olive skin, large eyes, and a plain brown dress. It was Jana and Beorth.
“How did you change into that so quickly?” came the voice that really lifted Kazrack’s heart. “Where did you even
get plate mail? I mean, you didn’t carry it with you and you certainly didn’t find it at the bottom of the hill! And you were wearing a chain shirt before…” It was Jeremy Northrop. His face was still fresh and unbearded, and his golden locks had just started to grow about his ears freeing itself of the simple bowl-cuts favored in his native Neergaard. He wore a chain shirt and had a longsword and short sword on his belt.
Kazrack looked down at the front of his armor, noticing that the detailed etching he hade made on the breastplate of a rune-covered mountain was mostly buffed away by the many blows it had absorbed.
Jana’s eyes narrowed as she looked the dwarf up and down suspiciously.
“Ach! Ah thought dwarves had nuh magic about ‘em,” Malcolm protested.
“I… I…” Kazrack could not close his mouth. He looked back and forth from one of his former companions to another. Somewhere a summer songbird tweeted. “Don’t you understand? I… I have seen you all die, or leave to not be found again…” His vision rested on Beorth.
“I do not know what you are talking about,” Beorth said, calmly. “Do you speak prophecy?”
“No… This must be… How can this be the past? And I stand here in the armor I made myself a year from this day…” Kazrack was dumbfounded.
“Ah thank the dwarf’s been innas coops,” Malcolm said. Kazrack smiled at the accent and then suddenly blurted, “Chance!”
“What?” Jeremy asked. He shot a cocked eyebrow at his Wallbrookian friend and grinned; tapping his own temple.
“Chance is still alive here, too!” Kazrack cried out. “I have a chance to save him, too. To make everything turn out better than it did!”
“Ya men the fella back at the pub? The other Wallbrookian that ‘ass signed oop?” Malcolm asked.
Kazrack nodded vigorously, but the smile melted. He barely had time to plant his feet as a brown-clothed form came leaping over the side of the hill scattering the others. The monk’s kick slammed against Kazrack’s chest plate with a resounding ring.
Adder spun back and away, crouched in a fighting stance.
“Why do you attack me?” Kazrack asked, withdrawing to draw his golden flail and his shield. He remembered his halberd dropped from his hand when he was stunned by the blue-white tendril of the time elemental.
“Defeat you now alone, or defeat you later in time when you stand with your friends? What would you do?” Adder replied.
“But he does stand with his friends, false monk!” Beorth said, bringing his hands down from in front of his face. His
sight beyond sight had detected the foul cloying aura of evil about Adder. (2)
“
Boayl sollys!" Malcolm chanted, pulling his bastard sword off his back (3) and a burst of light exploded in front of Adder’s scarred face. The monk ignored it and spun, deftly avoiding and knocking blows aside with a dance-like grace, his arms locking momentarily in fanciful positions before flowing again. Suddenly, the dance turned violent. As he ducked Kazrack’s flail, Adder swept Beorth’s legs out from under him, sending the heavily armored warrior the ground. The monk hopped back up and performed a flurry of heavy stomping kicks as he ran over the helpless paladin. There was a sickening crack as the monk’s sandal sent Beorth’s chin into the grass.
Adder leapt into the air and spun back around, to fend off Kazrack who was on his heels.
“Fiend! I will slay you!” Kazrack roared.
“Holy…!” Jeremy cried, and immediately began to hustle away. He only paused when he noticed his friend was not following him. (4) Jana (5), on the other hand was already way ahead of the Neergaardian, running for her life back towards Verdun.
Kazrack withdrew as Adder tumbled around him, taking a moment to call to his gods for
bear’s’ endurance.
”Malcolm! Run away! Run away!” Jeremy cried, charging backing with his long sword swinging. Adder turned away to easily avoid the blow. Malcolm jerked as he brought his sword down through the air missing. Adder grabbed the skald’s arms and drove his knee into the bard’s gut and crotch several times, before dropping him to the ground unconscious.
Kazrack made to take advantage of the distraction, but Adder ducked back down again, and swept Kazrack’s feet, sending the dwarf to the ground. The monk knelt beside the dwarf and punched him full on in the neck, but sprung back up as Jeremy tried to creep up behind him. A kick went flying back sending the Neergaardian to the ground next to his companion.
“Give up, Kazrack,” Adder said, stepping back casually towards Malcolm. “Can’t you see this is all pointless? That any duty you are forced to uphold is but a weight dragging you down. There is only pain in this life. Pain and death. And I know you do not relish it…”
Adder stepped on Malcolm’s neck, snapping it as Kazrack struggled to get back to his feet.
“You blame your weakness on your humanity,” Kazrack said. “But you are truly inhuman, monk.”
“One day that too shall be true, but until I reach that state, I am free of duty and promise,” Adder said, dancing over to land on Jeremy and twist his feet to kill the young warrior. “If I am evil, I am evil because it is the default state of men. If I want you to despair, it is only because I want you to see truly the state of the mortal being.”
Kazrack roared wordlessly, pressing in with shield and flail. The monk did not show that he felt pain, but Kazrack knew he scored a good blow, as the flail chain jerked hard and he pulled away again. A flurry of punches battered at the top of the shield, and several came down striking Kazrack hard in the bridge of the nose. The dwarf saw stars and withdrew again, but was shocked to suddenly see Adder flying down out of the air, left leg held straight before him. (6) The sandaled foot caught him in on his breastplate and he went stumbling back, as Adder flipped back and landed on his feet again.
The monk cracked his arms and got back into his fighting stance, staring at Kazrack without blinking. The rune-thrower called to Krauchaar to grant him
bull’s strength. He could feel every breath burn down in his chest, and his knee felt twisted from when he fell; his whole body ached. He sighed, but then caught sight of the crumpled forms of his friends dead once again, and he raised his shield, spun his flail over his head and charged in once again.
Again he felt the flail strike the monk hard, but the silent master seemed to hug onto the shield, as if using it for cover as well, dancing left and right to avoid the dwarf-head-shaped head of the weapon. (7) However, the monk’s blows were having a hard time getting around the shield as well, and they broke apart once again.
Kazrack called for Rivkanal to close the worst of his wounds, but was dismayed to find that those left behind were not so much better. He looked up to see that Adder was kneeling silently with his palms pressed together. The some of the monk’s wounds closed of their own accord.
Kazrack roared and charged again, and this time Adder charged as well, leaping into his flying kick once again, but Kazrack side-stepped and slammed his flail into the monk’s back as he went past. Adder crumpled into a ball on the ground, and Kazrack got in another lick before the monk tumbled away and back to his feet. Tenacious, Kazrack did not let up, raining blows down on the retreating monk. Adder regained his form and balance and managed a few more punishing blows to Kazrack’s head and face. The dwarf’s ears rung in his helmet. Realizing he had lost his advantage he withdrew again, and once again called to his gods for aid. This time, in the form of a
shield of faith.
Adder tossed away a glass vial that shattered against a stone, having just swallowed its contents. (8)
Again the two fighters met. This time, Kazrack stopped short of his charge and Adder ended up over extended in his kick. (9) The flail spun round crushing into the monk’s ribs. Adder spat blood and spun quickly to block the follow-up blow, but failed. The weight of the blow knocked the monk to the ground, but he hopped back up to his feet with no trouble and battered at Kazrack’s shield.
Grunting, Kazrack slammed the monk again, but was alarmed when he felt the monk grab his arm and twist it painfully. Kazrack pulled back too fast, and his shield fell just enough to allow Adder a solid hit to the dwarf’s face.
The world was objects of softly pulsating colors awash with pain. There was another shock of sudden pain, and then all was black for the rune-thrower.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) Verdun is the capital of the Kingdom of Herman Land, where the tale of the heroes that would come to be known as the Keepers of the Gate first began.
(2)
DM’s Note: Beorth was being run by Martin the Green’s player.
(3)
DM’s Note: Malcolm Mac-Duligh was, of course, played by Ratchis’ player, since that was his characters. I handed out the sheets with the stats on them face down, and gave him a note with instructions that it should be read aloud in ‘Malcolm’s voice’ when I gave him the signal, and then everyone could turn the sheets over.
(4)
DM’s Note: Jeremy Northrop was run by Bastian player.
(5)
DM’s Note: Jana of Westron was run by Roland of Bast’s player.
(6)
DM’s Note: This is the
Flying Kick martial arts feat
(7) This is Ororon-Thiduil, found in the Pit of Bones. See:
http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Magical+Item+-+Ororon-Thiduil
(8)
DM’s Note: This was a potion of owl’s wisdom to improve his armor class.
(9)
DM’s Note: Adder misses and fumbled, getting this result:
Over-extended/Distracted. Intended opponent gains immediate attack of opportunity at +4.
