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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
Piratecat's Updated Story Hour! (update 4/03 and 4/06)
- Thread starter Piratecat
- Start date
- Status
Sialia
First Post
Right.
So if the peanut gallery will just pipe down until yonder storyteller finishes his composition, I'll stand the room to a round while we wait.
Those of you who fancy you have clever tongues can put them to work devising the toasts for the heroes who are no doubt about to be shown worthy of them.
Where would we be without our storytellers, eh?
So if the peanut gallery will just pipe down until yonder storyteller finishes his composition, I'll stand the room to a round while we wait.
Those of you who fancy you have clever tongues can put them to work devising the toasts for the heroes who are no doubt about to be shown worthy of them.
Where would we be without our storytellers, eh?
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Man, I ought to go away more often. You guys are funny.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
INTERLUDE
Meanwhile, Velendo, TomTom, Nolin and Agar wind walk to the site of Lord Ioun’s tower. This relic of an earlier age stands at the top of a difficult mountain pass, looking westerly onto Kanach Hur (the desert of the screaming sands) and easterly onto what were once the Sephanic Horseplains. Now, of course, they’re a huge battlefield, scorched and littered with corpses from the year-long war against the skeletal armies.
Expecting no real opposition as they waft up the mountain in mist form, the group is surprised to find themselves challenged by invisible soldiers. They solidify, and begin to explain themselves; TomTom tries to manifest true seeing, is warned, tries it anyways, and is summarily blasted by a wand wielded by one of the soldiers. He reels from the substantial subdual damage, but shakes it off.
“TomTom, are you okay?” asks Velendo, concerned.
“Fine,” answers TomTom, in massive pain but keeping a blank face. “Those things don’t pack much of a wallop.” The guards look nervous. One of the guards communicates magically with someone, whispering into the wind, and after a brief pause the group is escorted up the trail with full honors. Apparently, someone remembers their role in liberating Ioun from his millennia-long magical curse, even though it has been a few years since they were here last. The guards provide them with horses, and they start up the path.
The group passes an inordinate number of guard posts as they climb the pass, more than they expected; questioning the guards, Velendo learns that the Necromancer Kings periodically attempt to send in invisible, flying, or insubstantial undead troops to make lightning-fast attacks. The guards paint a fairly horrific picture of some of the ambushes, and soon the security used against the wind walked heroes doesn’t seem so severe.
It’s a strange ride. Odd bird calls fills the air, and the tracks of unusual beasts parallel the mountain trail. Some animals here are unique: creatures that have died out everywhere else in the world, inadvertently preserved by a magical curse that once froze time in this vicinity for millennia. Velendo points out things the Defenders had seen the first time they had come here. “There were dead body parts here… oh, and there, and there. Tao got swallowed by the monster about... hmmm… here. Oh, and there’s the spot that several party members were completely frozen in time.” Agar looks at him doubtfully, but Nolin fills in detail, and retelling the story passes the time quickly.
Finally the horses wearily turn a final corner, high enough up the mountains that breathing is slightly difficult and the sighing wind is cold. Rising abruptly up from a flat plateau is a massive black tower looming more than a hundred feet tall. Brutally plain, vertiginously tall, unnaturally constructed, the tower is a tribute to the magical construction techniques of a time long gone. A platoon of soldiers stands at attention outside of the tower's massive gates, accompanied by a woman not wearing a uniform. She’s short, with a narrow face and short brown hair, and the groups' attention is immediately drawn to the dozen or so ioun stones whirring and humming around her head. She walks forward firmly as the group dismounts.
“Welcome. Lord Ioun isn’t available at the moment.” Her voice is a deep contralto. “He’s crafting magical items. Are you here to see him on a military, civil or magical issue?”
The group looks at one another. “All three, really,” decides Velendo.
“Perhaps I can help nevertheless. If we need one of the others, I will summon them. My name is Veridain. I am Ioun’s Minister of Civil Affairs here in our growing Empire. If we can help you, we’ll be pleased to.”
She gestures up the stairs towards a heavy iron portal. One by one, the group troops up towards the dark door, and as they walk through it into darkness they feel a slight tingle.
Anyone expecting a hallway is probably surprised. Walking out the other side, they find themselves immediately in a comfortable study. It reminds them quite a bit of Velendo’s office back in the temple of Eversink: full of stacks of papers, old trophies, warm wood and comfortable chairs. Drinks and food sit on a table by the wall. Velendo looks round appreciably while Agar runs over to the window and looks out. “We’re more than sixty feet up!” he squeaks, and Minister Veridain smiles.
Velendo and Nolin, between bites of delicious food, explain that they’re involved in an assault on a kingdom of undead. “We imagine you may have your hands full here, but there is some specific aid that might help.”
Veridain shakes her head. “You may not know it, but we’re involved in a similar assault ourselves. The Church of Aeos in our new protectorate of Corsai is leading an army against our foe. Thousands of clerics, warriors, mercenaries, and professional soldiers, all trained and equipped to win the war against those blasted necromancers. Most of our aid is dedicated to them; the Emperor has said we’re going to win that fight, and he’s committed to their success. As a result, I’m not sure how many resources we can divert to your own cause.”
Nolin does his best to be charming. “Any help you can offer will be more than we have now. Thank you for your kindness and consideration.”
She smiles. “Old debts. We’ll do what we can without endangering our primary goals. Do you know what it is you’re looking for?”
Velendo nods. “We do.”
She reaches into a pouch and pulls out a sparkling crystal gem. Holding it above her head, she releases it, and it spins and dances as it joins the others orbiting her head. “Just think them,” she says. “It will be faster.”
Nolin speaks up. “Do you have any kind of scrying device? There are some people we’d like to try and find.”
Veridain pushes her chair back and stands up. “Of course. Come with me.” She walks back to the same door they had entered from. She walks through it and disappears from sight. Trading glances, the others follow.
A step away, they emerge in a room lined with crystal mirrors. They catch the Defenders’ reflections and bounce them back and forth, arcing away into infinity. In the center of the room is a massive crystal sphere, suspended in a band of mithral. Agar and Nolin can’t help but gasp. “Feel free to use this. You might find it easier than most scrying devices.”
Stepping up, Nolin casts his mind into it, and feels his thoughts whirled up and magnified. He thinks of his lover Telay, exploring the Underdark thousands of miles away, and feels his consciousness streaming out across the world. Spread whisper-thin, he seeks for her in the caverns below and the lands above, but minutes of concentration fail to find her. Reluctantly, he pulls his consciousness back. “Either she’s dead or protected from scrying,” he says worriedly. “How about we try and find one of the Imbindarlan worshippers that our legend lore told us about?”
“I don’t know,” says Velendo worriedly. “We might be alerting them when we shouldn’t be.” The group debates the wisdom of information gathering versus inadvertent warnings, when TomTom suddenly interrupts and changes the subject.
“Crap. I just heard Tao’s voice through my earring. She says they’re coming in four hours.”
“Who’s coming where?”
TomTom looks aggrieved. “How should I know? I only hear four seconds. But I think she’s gotten Dylrath, and I think she’s coming for us. It must be the ghouls.”
Nolin and Agar look almost perky, but the old cleric’s face falls. “Oh boy,” worries Velendo. “Today? I’m not ready for undead today, damn it.” He casts his eyes skyward, addressing his God Calphas the Wallbuilder. “Ha ha, very funny. I bet this is your idea of a big joke. I’m hoping I’m going to laugh.” He then looks at Veridain. “Is there anywhere in here where someone can teleport in or out?”
She leads them out of the scrying room and into a huge circular room, just on the other side of the same door they entered through. A magical circle is imprinted on the floor, runes glowing slightly in the dim light. TomTom and Agar both do their best to memorize the room in case they ever need to teleport into the Tower. “This will do,” she says. “So I take it you have to leave?” The group nods. “In that case, I’ll see whether we can be of any help. I’ll be in touch. When….” She trails off, staring at blank air, and is then interrupted by a gesturing arm sticking out of empty space.
“Ah,” says Nolin. “There’s our ride. Good luck, thank you, and we’ll be in touch.” One by one, the Defenders step into an invisible portal, and Ioun’s Tower disappears behind them.
Alone in the Chamber of Transport, Veridain shakes her head slightly before smiling. She walks alone from the room, already making notes on a sheet of parchment.
To be continued….
Coming up: Dylrath cuts class. Raevynn redefines her loyalties. And Hundle’s Crossing meets their nightmare!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
INTERLUDE
Meanwhile, Velendo, TomTom, Nolin and Agar wind walk to the site of Lord Ioun’s tower. This relic of an earlier age stands at the top of a difficult mountain pass, looking westerly onto Kanach Hur (the desert of the screaming sands) and easterly onto what were once the Sephanic Horseplains. Now, of course, they’re a huge battlefield, scorched and littered with corpses from the year-long war against the skeletal armies.
Expecting no real opposition as they waft up the mountain in mist form, the group is surprised to find themselves challenged by invisible soldiers. They solidify, and begin to explain themselves; TomTom tries to manifest true seeing, is warned, tries it anyways, and is summarily blasted by a wand wielded by one of the soldiers. He reels from the substantial subdual damage, but shakes it off.
“TomTom, are you okay?” asks Velendo, concerned.
“Fine,” answers TomTom, in massive pain but keeping a blank face. “Those things don’t pack much of a wallop.” The guards look nervous. One of the guards communicates magically with someone, whispering into the wind, and after a brief pause the group is escorted up the trail with full honors. Apparently, someone remembers their role in liberating Ioun from his millennia-long magical curse, even though it has been a few years since they were here last. The guards provide them with horses, and they start up the path.
The group passes an inordinate number of guard posts as they climb the pass, more than they expected; questioning the guards, Velendo learns that the Necromancer Kings periodically attempt to send in invisible, flying, or insubstantial undead troops to make lightning-fast attacks. The guards paint a fairly horrific picture of some of the ambushes, and soon the security used against the wind walked heroes doesn’t seem so severe.
It’s a strange ride. Odd bird calls fills the air, and the tracks of unusual beasts parallel the mountain trail. Some animals here are unique: creatures that have died out everywhere else in the world, inadvertently preserved by a magical curse that once froze time in this vicinity for millennia. Velendo points out things the Defenders had seen the first time they had come here. “There were dead body parts here… oh, and there, and there. Tao got swallowed by the monster about... hmmm… here. Oh, and there’s the spot that several party members were completely frozen in time.” Agar looks at him doubtfully, but Nolin fills in detail, and retelling the story passes the time quickly.
Finally the horses wearily turn a final corner, high enough up the mountains that breathing is slightly difficult and the sighing wind is cold. Rising abruptly up from a flat plateau is a massive black tower looming more than a hundred feet tall. Brutally plain, vertiginously tall, unnaturally constructed, the tower is a tribute to the magical construction techniques of a time long gone. A platoon of soldiers stands at attention outside of the tower's massive gates, accompanied by a woman not wearing a uniform. She’s short, with a narrow face and short brown hair, and the groups' attention is immediately drawn to the dozen or so ioun stones whirring and humming around her head. She walks forward firmly as the group dismounts.
“Welcome. Lord Ioun isn’t available at the moment.” Her voice is a deep contralto. “He’s crafting magical items. Are you here to see him on a military, civil or magical issue?”
The group looks at one another. “All three, really,” decides Velendo.
“Perhaps I can help nevertheless. If we need one of the others, I will summon them. My name is Veridain. I am Ioun’s Minister of Civil Affairs here in our growing Empire. If we can help you, we’ll be pleased to.”
She gestures up the stairs towards a heavy iron portal. One by one, the group troops up towards the dark door, and as they walk through it into darkness they feel a slight tingle.
Anyone expecting a hallway is probably surprised. Walking out the other side, they find themselves immediately in a comfortable study. It reminds them quite a bit of Velendo’s office back in the temple of Eversink: full of stacks of papers, old trophies, warm wood and comfortable chairs. Drinks and food sit on a table by the wall. Velendo looks round appreciably while Agar runs over to the window and looks out. “We’re more than sixty feet up!” he squeaks, and Minister Veridain smiles.
Velendo and Nolin, between bites of delicious food, explain that they’re involved in an assault on a kingdom of undead. “We imagine you may have your hands full here, but there is some specific aid that might help.”
Veridain shakes her head. “You may not know it, but we’re involved in a similar assault ourselves. The Church of Aeos in our new protectorate of Corsai is leading an army against our foe. Thousands of clerics, warriors, mercenaries, and professional soldiers, all trained and equipped to win the war against those blasted necromancers. Most of our aid is dedicated to them; the Emperor has said we’re going to win that fight, and he’s committed to their success. As a result, I’m not sure how many resources we can divert to your own cause.”
Nolin does his best to be charming. “Any help you can offer will be more than we have now. Thank you for your kindness and consideration.”
She smiles. “Old debts. We’ll do what we can without endangering our primary goals. Do you know what it is you’re looking for?”
Velendo nods. “We do.”
She reaches into a pouch and pulls out a sparkling crystal gem. Holding it above her head, she releases it, and it spins and dances as it joins the others orbiting her head. “Just think them,” she says. “It will be faster.”
Nolin speaks up. “Do you have any kind of scrying device? There are some people we’d like to try and find.”
Veridain pushes her chair back and stands up. “Of course. Come with me.” She walks back to the same door they had entered from. She walks through it and disappears from sight. Trading glances, the others follow.
A step away, they emerge in a room lined with crystal mirrors. They catch the Defenders’ reflections and bounce them back and forth, arcing away into infinity. In the center of the room is a massive crystal sphere, suspended in a band of mithral. Agar and Nolin can’t help but gasp. “Feel free to use this. You might find it easier than most scrying devices.”
Stepping up, Nolin casts his mind into it, and feels his thoughts whirled up and magnified. He thinks of his lover Telay, exploring the Underdark thousands of miles away, and feels his consciousness streaming out across the world. Spread whisper-thin, he seeks for her in the caverns below and the lands above, but minutes of concentration fail to find her. Reluctantly, he pulls his consciousness back. “Either she’s dead or protected from scrying,” he says worriedly. “How about we try and find one of the Imbindarlan worshippers that our legend lore told us about?”
“I don’t know,” says Velendo worriedly. “We might be alerting them when we shouldn’t be.” The group debates the wisdom of information gathering versus inadvertent warnings, when TomTom suddenly interrupts and changes the subject.
“Crap. I just heard Tao’s voice through my earring. She says they’re coming in four hours.”
“Who’s coming where?”
TomTom looks aggrieved. “How should I know? I only hear four seconds. But I think she’s gotten Dylrath, and I think she’s coming for us. It must be the ghouls.”
Nolin and Agar look almost perky, but the old cleric’s face falls. “Oh boy,” worries Velendo. “Today? I’m not ready for undead today, damn it.” He casts his eyes skyward, addressing his God Calphas the Wallbuilder. “Ha ha, very funny. I bet this is your idea of a big joke. I’m hoping I’m going to laugh.” He then looks at Veridain. “Is there anywhere in here where someone can teleport in or out?”
She leads them out of the scrying room and into a huge circular room, just on the other side of the same door they entered through. A magical circle is imprinted on the floor, runes glowing slightly in the dim light. TomTom and Agar both do their best to memorize the room in case they ever need to teleport into the Tower. “This will do,” she says. “So I take it you have to leave?” The group nods. “In that case, I’ll see whether we can be of any help. I’ll be in touch. When….” She trails off, staring at blank air, and is then interrupted by a gesturing arm sticking out of empty space.
“Ah,” says Nolin. “There’s our ride. Good luck, thank you, and we’ll be in touch.” One by one, the Defenders step into an invisible portal, and Ioun’s Tower disappears behind them.
Alone in the Chamber of Transport, Veridain shakes her head slightly before smiling. She walks alone from the room, already making notes on a sheet of parchment.
To be continued….
Coming up: Dylrath cuts class. Raevynn redefines her loyalties. And Hundle’s Crossing meets their nightmare!
Last edited:
KidCthulhu
First Post
I go away for a weekend, and suddenly Nolin is a perfumed fop? What gives?
First of all, it's pomade, not perfume.
Second of all, despite the fact that Nolin wears a cloth of gold cloak set with rubies, golden bracers, also set with rubies, and a flame proof hat with a feather in it, he is not a fop.
So there.
First of all, it's pomade, not perfume.
Second of all, despite the fact that Nolin wears a cloth of gold cloak set with rubies, golden bracers, also set with rubies, and a flame proof hat with a feather in it, he is not a fop.
So there.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Tao hasn’t wasted any time. Still standing in the entranceway of the House of the Sun, she tries to alert Dylrath using her magical clasp of crown eternal (a medal that doubles as a magical signaling device.) When he doesn’t immediately respond or show up to claim her, she grabs Mara and Malachite by their hands. “Come on,” she says. “We’re leaving.”
“Where to?” asks Mara. “I still have to….”
Mara never finishes her sentence, because the smell of Corsai’s dusty heat and exotic spices is suddenly replaced with the smell of the ocean and the stench of a large city. Tao has teleported without error to the outside courtyard of the Academe Sorcere in the coastal city of Oursk. Without pausing, she sets off at a run for the massive bronze doors of the main entrance. The two paladins trade a look that speaks volumes about certain women who don’t communicate their plans, and follow gamely along.
They catch up to her in one of the stone hallways of the classroom wing. Dylrath is standing there next to a matronly teacher. As they approach, the teacher is saying, “…clearly not ill, and you have class responsibilities. I simply don’t think that I….”
Tao loses her temper. Her solid green eyes flash, and the holy aura that surrounds her sweeps outwards, chilling the teacher’s blood. “I am Tao Camber,” she intones, “Knight of the Horn. Dylrath is needed for something much more important than schoolwork. A village is about to be destroyed, and Dylrath’s skills are required.”
The teacher pales, and Dylrath looks at her with a cheery grin. “Extracurricular project?” he suggests. Backing away from Tao, the teacher nods dumbly until she bumps into a classroom door. She slides behind it, using it like a shield, still staring at Tao like a hypnotized stoat.
“Well, that went well,” says Dylrath happily. “What’s up?”
“They’re coming.” Tao lifts her gaze from the teacher and focuses it on Dylrath.
“Oh. Oh boy. Okay. Ummm… go outside. Someplace inconspicuous, you know?” Sure, like these three would be inconspicuous anywhere they went, he thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns on his heel and trots down the corridor towards his dormitory.
Outside, the three heroes wait until a hand beckons them forward, emerging from thin air. They step forward into a large extradimensional room, redone in teak flooring with cloaks and disguises hanging on ancient alabaster statues. “Mara, Malachite, it’s a demiplane with its own mirror of mental prowess in it. Not a normal one, y’know. Don’t mess with the statues – they may summon something – and I wouldn’t poke around with the gates over in the corners. They lead to paraelemental planes, and I don’t need a magma elemental in here messing up the décor. Where to, Tao?”
“The town of Hundle’s Crossing, or as close to it as you can get.”
They pick up Raevynn, fresh from a lunch with the Patriarch of House Roaringbrook, where Raevynn has been exploring mutual goals and possible alliances. They pick up Velendo, Nolin, TomTom and Agar, in Ioun’s Tower. “Who was that woman?” asks Dylrath, and files the name of Ioun’s Civil Minister away for future use. Then he focuses the mirror room on a merchant he knows in a town upriver from Hundle’s Crossing. Some of the group slips out in wind walk form, and Dylrath waits until they arrive in the village before he focuses the mirror on them once again. The other Defenders exit, and Dylrath heads off to get Mara’s horse Luminor.
They have three hours.
Hundle’s Crossing is a beautiful little riverside village, peaceful and relatively naïve; no powerful heroes retired there, no insidious political plots, just honest farmers and friendly merchants and an inn with excellent beer. The Mayor, who they find tilling his fields, actually believes them; how could he not? He organizes the evacuation of the farms, of the local iron mine, of the businesses. There is much complaining, confusion, and fear. Nolin draws out lagging villagers with his music, and gives them a tremendously inspirational speech that boils down to “You aren’t a coward if you let us handle this. Protect your loved ones, and be strong for the town.” It’s difficult for some of them to swallow, but it seems to do the trick.
The group suspects that the ghouls will surface through the mine, but Raevynn’s commune with nature shows otherwise. There are horrible problems underneath the town’s small cemetery. Tao’s clairvoyance reveals that the earth beneath the cemetery has been hollowed out, and hundreds of creatures wait there: chewing on spare bones, shambling back and forth, staring at the earthen ceiling with undisguised hunger. Not good.
So the townsfolk are lead to the mines, where Velendo’s Calphas’ Comfortable Castle shelters most of them. The farms are mostly clear, the town is totally clear, and there are no innocent bystanders left nearby to serve as ghoul food.
Half an hour left.
The group gathers on the hill overlooking the cemetery. Dylrath has gone off to try and find Arcade, who has a ring of free action that his familiar wears. The rest of the group prepares. Velendo surrounds the cemetery with walls of force and positive walls, hemming in the escape routes to channel the ghouls up the hill, towards the Defenders. People pace back and forth. The sun sets in a beautiful blood-red sky, the light making the white tombstones almost glow in the gathering gloom. The evening birds fall silent.
Down in the graveyard, a tombstone sinks slightly, and falls over. Then another one topples. A mausoleum sags. Then, with a growing roar, a 20 ft. hole in the center of the cemetery collapses in on itself, dirt falling into the ground like an earthen waterfall. A flock of birds take flight from nearby trees, cawing cacophonously as they take to the air in fright.
As the cave-in stops, a sound can finally be heard: the growling, gurgling sounds of very, very hungry creatures. The smell that wafts out is even worse. And like fire ants out of a kicked-over nest, a multitude of gray shapes swarm out of the ground into the growing darkness of Hundle's Crossing.
To be continued….
“Where to?” asks Mara. “I still have to….”
Mara never finishes her sentence, because the smell of Corsai’s dusty heat and exotic spices is suddenly replaced with the smell of the ocean and the stench of a large city. Tao has teleported without error to the outside courtyard of the Academe Sorcere in the coastal city of Oursk. Without pausing, she sets off at a run for the massive bronze doors of the main entrance. The two paladins trade a look that speaks volumes about certain women who don’t communicate their plans, and follow gamely along.
They catch up to her in one of the stone hallways of the classroom wing. Dylrath is standing there next to a matronly teacher. As they approach, the teacher is saying, “…clearly not ill, and you have class responsibilities. I simply don’t think that I….”
Tao loses her temper. Her solid green eyes flash, and the holy aura that surrounds her sweeps outwards, chilling the teacher’s blood. “I am Tao Camber,” she intones, “Knight of the Horn. Dylrath is needed for something much more important than schoolwork. A village is about to be destroyed, and Dylrath’s skills are required.”
The teacher pales, and Dylrath looks at her with a cheery grin. “Extracurricular project?” he suggests. Backing away from Tao, the teacher nods dumbly until she bumps into a classroom door. She slides behind it, using it like a shield, still staring at Tao like a hypnotized stoat.
“Well, that went well,” says Dylrath happily. “What’s up?”
“They’re coming.” Tao lifts her gaze from the teacher and focuses it on Dylrath.
“Oh. Oh boy. Okay. Ummm… go outside. Someplace inconspicuous, you know?” Sure, like these three would be inconspicuous anywhere they went, he thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns on his heel and trots down the corridor towards his dormitory.
Outside, the three heroes wait until a hand beckons them forward, emerging from thin air. They step forward into a large extradimensional room, redone in teak flooring with cloaks and disguises hanging on ancient alabaster statues. “Mara, Malachite, it’s a demiplane with its own mirror of mental prowess in it. Not a normal one, y’know. Don’t mess with the statues – they may summon something – and I wouldn’t poke around with the gates over in the corners. They lead to paraelemental planes, and I don’t need a magma elemental in here messing up the décor. Where to, Tao?”
“The town of Hundle’s Crossing, or as close to it as you can get.”
They pick up Raevynn, fresh from a lunch with the Patriarch of House Roaringbrook, where Raevynn has been exploring mutual goals and possible alliances. They pick up Velendo, Nolin, TomTom and Agar, in Ioun’s Tower. “Who was that woman?” asks Dylrath, and files the name of Ioun’s Civil Minister away for future use. Then he focuses the mirror room on a merchant he knows in a town upriver from Hundle’s Crossing. Some of the group slips out in wind walk form, and Dylrath waits until they arrive in the village before he focuses the mirror on them once again. The other Defenders exit, and Dylrath heads off to get Mara’s horse Luminor.
They have three hours.
Hundle’s Crossing is a beautiful little riverside village, peaceful and relatively naïve; no powerful heroes retired there, no insidious political plots, just honest farmers and friendly merchants and an inn with excellent beer. The Mayor, who they find tilling his fields, actually believes them; how could he not? He organizes the evacuation of the farms, of the local iron mine, of the businesses. There is much complaining, confusion, and fear. Nolin draws out lagging villagers with his music, and gives them a tremendously inspirational speech that boils down to “You aren’t a coward if you let us handle this. Protect your loved ones, and be strong for the town.” It’s difficult for some of them to swallow, but it seems to do the trick.
The group suspects that the ghouls will surface through the mine, but Raevynn’s commune with nature shows otherwise. There are horrible problems underneath the town’s small cemetery. Tao’s clairvoyance reveals that the earth beneath the cemetery has been hollowed out, and hundreds of creatures wait there: chewing on spare bones, shambling back and forth, staring at the earthen ceiling with undisguised hunger. Not good.
So the townsfolk are lead to the mines, where Velendo’s Calphas’ Comfortable Castle shelters most of them. The farms are mostly clear, the town is totally clear, and there are no innocent bystanders left nearby to serve as ghoul food.
Half an hour left.
The group gathers on the hill overlooking the cemetery. Dylrath has gone off to try and find Arcade, who has a ring of free action that his familiar wears. The rest of the group prepares. Velendo surrounds the cemetery with walls of force and positive walls, hemming in the escape routes to channel the ghouls up the hill, towards the Defenders. People pace back and forth. The sun sets in a beautiful blood-red sky, the light making the white tombstones almost glow in the gathering gloom. The evening birds fall silent.
Down in the graveyard, a tombstone sinks slightly, and falls over. Then another one topples. A mausoleum sags. Then, with a growing roar, a 20 ft. hole in the center of the cemetery collapses in on itself, dirt falling into the ground like an earthen waterfall. A flock of birds take flight from nearby trees, cawing cacophonously as they take to the air in fright.
As the cave-in stops, a sound can finally be heard: the growling, gurgling sounds of very, very hungry creatures. The smell that wafts out is even worse. And like fire ants out of a kicked-over nest, a multitude of gray shapes swarm out of the ground into the growing darkness of Hundle's Crossing.
To be continued….
Last edited:
KidCthulhu
First Post
I was particularly pleased with Nolin's speech. It was basically the polar opposite of the "St Crispin's Day" speech from Henry V. Saying "When you're old and grey, you can look at your grandkids and be happy, because you didn't throw your lives away now."
Sheesh, the things I tell people in the name of being a hero.
Sheesh, the things I tell people in the name of being a hero.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
The ghouls swarm upwards, probably eighty or a hundred scrabbling into sight. Most seem to have once been dwarves or gnomes; their small hands now sport long claws, and sharpened teeth can be seen through the rat’s nest of sparse dwarven beards. With them come tiny flying balls of fire, swooping and spiraling out of the pit as if alive. Scrying devices? Impossible to say, and the hasted Defenders don’t waste any time trying to find out.
Tao prepares to slow them down by casting plant growth on the short grass of the cemetery, and Raevynn follows up with the exact same thing. Velendo summons a huge fire elemental, which wades into the advancing ghouls and sears them with its fiery arms.
From up on the hill, the group waits until close to a hundred are in sight… then Malachite, levitating slightly, slams his bracers together.
“Lux Smaragdi luceat eis!” Emerald light bursts from his bracers as Malachite becomes the heart of an emerald sun. For just a second, the shadowy battlefield is lit up in a flash. And then, before the light fades, everyone sees the sight of dozens of undead blasted out of existence instantaneously. Flesh flies from rotting faces, bones shatter and disintegrate like ice in hot water, shrieks fill the air as the breath is driven from four-score sets of lungs. The tiny flying balls of fire seem unaffected, but the ghoulish tide is slowed; perhaps eighty or so undead perished instantaneously.
Everyone looks at Malachite with new-found respect. He might, just barely, be smiling.
While TomTom places inertial barriers on people, Nolin flies high above the battlefield, and then swoops down. Hovering above a company of ghouls that survived the blast, he can see down into the pit, and sees more than a hundred more starting to climb out. Nolin casts healing circle, destroying more than ten, and then flies upwards as Agar drops an acid fog neatly over the entrance to the pit. “That’ll hold ‘em,” says Agar with pleasure, and summons his own extended fire elemental to be on the safe side. Velendo, upset that the ghouls might now decide to wait - thus causing all the spells that the Defenders have active to expire - stops grumbling at Agar long enough to notice that the ground is shaking.
“What the…?”
Before he can do anything, the hillside under their feet erupts into a shower of dirt and a rising juggernaut of slimy, rotting gray flesh. At first the group thinks it’s an undead purple worm; as both Tao and Velendo disappear into its huge mouth, that’s certainly their first impressions. But as the creature engulfs them, they realize that they’re wrong. Like grasping cilia, the inside of the worm’s mouth is filled with ghoulish arms, clutching and tearing, and dozens of screaming heads that barely poke their way out of the fleshy wall and tongue.
Someone screams.
To the horror of people watching, the outside skin of the worm pulses grotesquely and then turns… shuffling itself around and revealing that each 5 ft. section of the worm’s body is the torso of a ghoul, somehow flesh-merged together. Now the worm looks more like a humongous centipede, only with ghoulish arms clutching anything nearby, instead of a centipede’s legs. The monster throws its blind snout skywards, and hundreds of half-seen gibbering mouths slobber and drool in hunger.
Inside its gullet, Tao manages to lock one hand around the razor sharp bone-like protrusion of the lip; Velendo, who has never been terribly strong, isn’t as lucky. The raising of the snout breaks his grip, and dozens of clawed arms grab him and force him down the long throat, tearing at his flesh as he goes. He feels negative energy coursing through his body, and his screaming muscles lock in place.
to be continued….
-------------------------------------------------
The Necropede by David Hendee (Littlejohn)
Tao prepares to slow them down by casting plant growth on the short grass of the cemetery, and Raevynn follows up with the exact same thing. Velendo summons a huge fire elemental, which wades into the advancing ghouls and sears them with its fiery arms.
From up on the hill, the group waits until close to a hundred are in sight… then Malachite, levitating slightly, slams his bracers together.
“Lux Smaragdi luceat eis!” Emerald light bursts from his bracers as Malachite becomes the heart of an emerald sun. For just a second, the shadowy battlefield is lit up in a flash. And then, before the light fades, everyone sees the sight of dozens of undead blasted out of existence instantaneously. Flesh flies from rotting faces, bones shatter and disintegrate like ice in hot water, shrieks fill the air as the breath is driven from four-score sets of lungs. The tiny flying balls of fire seem unaffected, but the ghoulish tide is slowed; perhaps eighty or so undead perished instantaneously.
Everyone looks at Malachite with new-found respect. He might, just barely, be smiling.
While TomTom places inertial barriers on people, Nolin flies high above the battlefield, and then swoops down. Hovering above a company of ghouls that survived the blast, he can see down into the pit, and sees more than a hundred more starting to climb out. Nolin casts healing circle, destroying more than ten, and then flies upwards as Agar drops an acid fog neatly over the entrance to the pit. “That’ll hold ‘em,” says Agar with pleasure, and summons his own extended fire elemental to be on the safe side. Velendo, upset that the ghouls might now decide to wait - thus causing all the spells that the Defenders have active to expire - stops grumbling at Agar long enough to notice that the ground is shaking.
“What the…?”
Before he can do anything, the hillside under their feet erupts into a shower of dirt and a rising juggernaut of slimy, rotting gray flesh. At first the group thinks it’s an undead purple worm; as both Tao and Velendo disappear into its huge mouth, that’s certainly their first impressions. But as the creature engulfs them, they realize that they’re wrong. Like grasping cilia, the inside of the worm’s mouth is filled with ghoulish arms, clutching and tearing, and dozens of screaming heads that barely poke their way out of the fleshy wall and tongue.
Someone screams.
To the horror of people watching, the outside skin of the worm pulses grotesquely and then turns… shuffling itself around and revealing that each 5 ft. section of the worm’s body is the torso of a ghoul, somehow flesh-merged together. Now the worm looks more like a humongous centipede, only with ghoulish arms clutching anything nearby, instead of a centipede’s legs. The monster throws its blind snout skywards, and hundreds of half-seen gibbering mouths slobber and drool in hunger.
Inside its gullet, Tao manages to lock one hand around the razor sharp bone-like protrusion of the lip; Velendo, who has never been terribly strong, isn’t as lucky. The raising of the snout breaks his grip, and dozens of clawed arms grab him and force him down the long throat, tearing at his flesh as he goes. He feels negative energy coursing through his body, and his screaming muscles lock in place.
to be continued….
-------------------------------------------------
The Necropede by David Hendee (Littlejohn)
Last edited:
Blackjack
First Post
Piratecat said:This is indeed a rat bastardy monster. It gets even better.
During the combat, PCat starts looking over my shoulder at the shelves where he keeps the miniatures and other figures that we use to represent larger critters. "Can I get you something?" I ask.
"Naah," says PCat, slyly keeping the secret until the last minute, when he stands up and grabs the sand worm.
FYI, the sand worm toy in question is about 30 cm (12") long and about 5 cm (2") in diameter. The PCs, by contrast, are represented using standard lead figures. You could hear the collective "ulp" from around the table.
The sand worm's mouth is big enough to hold 2 or 3 lead figures. Unfortunately, this feature came in handy...
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