Rel's Faded Glory - The Early Days

[Rel]

It was recently brought to my attention that the link in my "Rel's Faded Glory II" story hour thread no longer worked since the board switch. On the off chance that I attract a new reader now and then, it would be nice if they could go back and read the beginning of the story, so I'm going to repost it in this thread and fix the link.

If you are reading this for the first time, enjoy.

the player characters are:
Speaks With Stone - Human Druid - Speaks With Stone, or Speaks for short was born as Quintus in the city of Oar, south of Glynden along the Crescent Sea. His mother was a Cleric of Obad-Hai and he has always had an affinity for nature. But he became more introverted after his father was murdered by a group of mysterious shadowy figures. He was eventually apprenticed to a druid and has since adopted a somewhat hermitish lifestyle in the wooded hills outside Glynden. His only significant dealings with the folk of Glynden have been through a pair of adventuresome young boys from the town.

Rhys Cameron - Human Rogue/Sorcerer - Rhys is the son of Glynden's resident boyer/fletcher. He has always been one to get into trouble. Much of this was prompted by the tales told to him by his great-grandfather, who lived to an incredibly old age. Although he never came right out and said it, his great-grandfather implied that their family contained the blood of dragons. Sadly, Rhys' great-grandfather died just as Rhys was beginning to develop his sorcerous powers.

Krase Sandoval - Human Ranger - Growing up as the grandson of a legionnaire who mustered out just as the legions were recalled to the heart of the empire, Krase always dreamt of being in the military. As the son of the local tanner, he spent much time hunting the nearby woods for deer hides to bring to his father. After he met Speaks With Stone, who taught him a great deal about the wilderness, he felt that he was certain to be accepted into the Imperial Scouting Corp. He traveled to Oar to apply, but was turned down in favor of recruits of a more noble birth than he. Embittered by this experience, he has recently returned to Glynden to try and prove himself despite his humiliation at being turned away from the military.


Part One - Trouble at the Harvest Festival

Rhys and Krase walked among the various wagons and stalls of the traders from Oar, admiring the various wares they sold. Each had only a few coins to make purchases with but they needed to make a decision soon because the merchants would be headed south within the next few days in order to avoid the first snows.

Lurking nearby was Speaks With Stone. He was recently convinced by Rhys that the townfolk would consider him less of a threat if he were to venture inside the town walls occasionally. Unfortunately, he was uncomfortable around large groups of people and wore a carved wooden mask to feel more secure. Between the mask and Jitterbug, one of the wolves who kept him company in the wilds, none of the people of Glynden was inclined to think of him as harmless.

The clear voice of Kyndalyn the Younger was heard over the noises of the crowd and the merchants hawking their wares, summoning those who would participate in the annual festival events. The first of these events was an archery contest.

Both Rhys and Krase hurried to take a spot in line with the other contestants. Rhys took a moment to load his crossbow while Krase strung his trusty longbow. Most of the other contestants were members of the town guard who spent many hours a week at archery practice.

Each took a turn with the results being predictably accurate, with the exception of a recent young recruit named Tiberious who missed the target entirely, drawing a scowl from Kyndalyn. Rhys took a shot that had good promise, but failed to strike better than the best the guards had to offer. Krase stepped to the line and fired a magnificent shot that nearly struck the dead center of the target (Rolled a 19). In the end, none of the other guardsmen could better his arrow and Krase claimed the prize of a few coins and a handful of the best arrows Rhys' father could make.

Rhys was not bitter about his performance in the competition however, for he had spotted in the crowd the form of young Isabeau. Isabeau was the daughter of Marcus the shepherd who lived in Castellan Cassuvius south of town. Rhys had recently gotten in the habit of "visiting" Isabeau while she was supposed to be watching the flock. Thus far, neither the flock nor Isabeau seemed any worse for Rhys' attentions.

With Rhys occupied chatting with Isabeau, his friend Krase was left to enter the Greased Pig Competition (nods to the Byzantium on the Shannon thread) by himself. Krase was up against a handful of the other young men of the village, including Cassius Jucadius, Junius Octorus and Briley Brathwaite. Uncle Claudius, the town wizard stepped forward with a squirming young pig and with a quick casting of the "Grease" spell, the competition was underway.

While Krase and Briley were quick to go after the pig directly, Cassius and Junius hung back looking for an opportunity to catch the pig as it escaped the others or perhaps just to trip one of their opponents. After a couple of laps around the ring and a couple of narrowly missed opportunities by Briley, Cassius managed to cut off the pig and successfully grapple it. Despite attempts by the others to bull rush and trip Cassius, he hung on for the few extra seconds necessary to be declared the winner. A cheer went up from all of those present from Castellan Jucadius and Cassius was awarded the purse for his victory.

As the cheers died down and the pig was carried away toward the cook pits, Speaks was thinking about leaving town to return to his home in the woods. He had had enough of the large crowd for one day and was feeling resentful about the treatment of the pig. Even though it wasn't a wild animal, it still didn't deserve to be terrorized. He would need to have a talk with Krase about that soon.

As the three friends lingered near the town gate, they heard a cry and looked up to see Pontius Caius, a weaver from Castellan Cassuvius, running to Kyndalyn who stood nearby, giving a firm talk to Tiberious about the importance of archery practice.

Pontius cried out, "Kyndalyn, come quickly! One of the wagons has been attacked on the south road! I'm not sure, but I think it belonged to Marcus!"

Kyndalyn glanced around at the crowd, noting that most of the guardsmen were out of uniform and off duty. Turning to Tiberious, he said, "Go tell the men that I said to man the walls and close the gates behind me. I'm going to see what happened." Then, turning his gaze to Rhys and Krase who still held their bows in hand, he said, "You two, come with me."

NEXT: The Lesser of Two Evils…

 

[Rel]

Kyndalyn lead the others south along the road quickly while trying to stay alert for an ambush. Approximately a mile south of town they came across the wagon. The oxen lay dead in their yokes, apparently poleaxed. It was obvious, even at a distance, that the wagon had been hastily ransacked. Sacks of wool lay scattered about the rutted roadway, giving credence to the notion that the wagon was indeed that of Marcus the shepherd.

Without waiting for prompting from Kyndalyn, the party spread out to look for signs of Marcus, his wife, Ilyessa or their attackers. Krase was the first to find anything of significance when he spoted a cluster of tracks leading to the west. They definitely were not human, most likely Gnoll. He called Kyndalyn over to confirm this.
Meanwhile, Rhys had taken a look in the wagon and determined that it had been looted for anything of value. Speaks With Stone followed Jitterbug and her keen nose to a nearby thicket where he made a grisly discovery: The corpses of Marcus and Ilyessa. He knelt down hoping that he was wrong with the incantations for his healing spells hovering behind his lips, but he was too late. Shaking his head grimly, he informed the rest of the group.

Upon hearing the news about Marcus and Ilyessa, Kyndalyn's eyes narrowed and he looked to the west. He balanced his desire for revenge against the safety of young Rhys and Krase. Without waiting for his decision, Krase told the group that they should hurry to catch the Gnolls and set off following the tracks. Without a word, the rest of the group headed west.

As they follow the tracks, Krase notices that the prints of two of the Gnolls seem close together and stay at a constant distance apart, as though they are carrying an object between them. He doesn't mention this to the group.

They followed the tracks for close to two miles when they heard some barking and growling noises as they neared the top of a hill. Cautiously peering over the hilltop, they spied a pair of Gnolls circling a lone barbarian. As the Gnolls moved to attack the barbarian, he let out a cry of rage and rushed one of them with his battleaxe.

Kyndalyn, Krase and Rhys all let fly with their bows and managed to fell one of the Gnolls before it joined the fray. Krase then charged forward intent on bringing his shortswords to bear on the Gnoll, the barbarian or both. As Krase approached the fight, Rhys lined up a careful shot that whizzed just above Krase's shoulder and struck the remaining Gnoll in the back. A chop from the barbarian's great-axe insures that the Gnoll won't rise again. Krase stops just in front of the barbarian and they eye each other suspiciously.

A shout from Kyndalyn in the barbarian tongue told the enraged warrior that he stood little chance if he wished to fight the four of them. The barbarian took a step back and lowered his great-axe all the while giving a disdainful sneer at Krase's puny shortswords.

The rest of the party approached the tense standoff between Krase and the axe wielding warrior of the western wilds. Kyndalyn, hoping to break the tension before any further blows were struck, asked, "Isn't it a little late in the year for a Coritani to be on this side of the river?"

The barbarian smiled and replied in broken imperial that he came seeking the Glynden Council. "Why exactly do you seek the Glynden Council?", Kyndalyn asked in return.

"I bear a message for them," said the barbarian.

Kyndalyn replied that he was one of the council members. The barbarian looked at each of the party members in an attempt to determine if Kyndalyn spoke the truth. Seeing no signs of duplicity and being outnumbered in any event, he cautiously handed over a scroll of imperfectly cleaned vellum with a few stray bits of hair still clinging to it.

"It's not a scroll, it's a squirrel," Rhys quietly joked to Krase. But Krase was in no mood for humor and his eyes did not flicker from the fixed gaze he held on the barbarian. The barbarian stared back contemptuously at the hunter, showing that a skinny town boy with a couple of overgrown cooking knives was of no concern to him.

Kyndalyn finished reading the scroll and, with a worried look on his face, informed the others that they would be going back to town immediately. The barbarian would be accompanying them but Krase would carry his weapons. Krase protested that they should continue chasing the rest of the Gnolls whose tracks went further westward. Kyndalyn informed him that the Gnolls would have to wait for another day.

As the barbarian handed his axe to Krase, he informed him that the axe had belonged to his grandfather and that, should any harm or disrespect come to it, it would be revisited tenfold upon Krase's person. Krase gritted his teeth, but true to his heavy-on-action/short-on-thinking personality, no witty comebacks were forthcoming.

As they approached the town gates, Kyndalyn told the rest of the party to take Ilrath (which they had discovered during their hike was the name of the barbarian) to Nan's tavern and wait there for himself and the rest of the Council. He then gave orders to the gate guards to take a detachment of men to recover the wagon and bodies from down the road. That done, he began making his way through the crowd seeking the other councilors.

Krase, Rhys, Speaks and Ilrath strode past the gawking onlookers to Nan's and told Nan that the council would be needing to hold a meeting there that night. Nan grudgingly agreed but not without loudly complaining about the revenues he would be losing from the festival crowd. He enlisted the aid of Krase in rolling out one of his kegs into the street from which to sell beer to the crowd.

Rhys meanwhile poured a couple of mugs of beer for himself and Ilrath. Ilrath appreciated the beverage and commented that it was less gritty than he was used to.

After a bit, Kyndalyn showed up and asked the others to take Ilrath upstairs to one of the vacant rooms and to stand guard outside until he was called for. Krase, certain that the shiftless barbarian would attempt escape told Kyndalyn that he would stand guard below the window. Kyndalyn told him that he doubted that would be necessary, but Krase stalked outside all the same. Rhys and Speaks took Ilrath upstairs and placed him in one of the several private rooms that Nan rented to travelers.

In short order, the rest of the Council, comprised of Father Thomas, Boss Brathwaite and the four heads of the castellans, Cassuvius, Jucadius, Octorus, and Nacalius were assembled in the common room. Without preamble, Kyndalyn read them the scroll given to him by Ilrath"

Glynden Council,

We have brought battle to your people many times in recent years. We think you must have no love for us. But we ask for your help anyway.

The Orcs of the Blackpeaks have banded together in numbers like we have never seen. They are bringing battle to us in a vast horde. They have shown in the past that they can battle even in winter. We may not stand against them. In spring, most of the tribes may be gone.

But then you will be next. That is why you should help us stand against them now. If you do not help us, we understand. But they will drive us into your lands across the Fodor. And when we see you, our warriors will know that they lost their homelands because you would not stand with them.

If you will help us, we will not cross the Fodor again. Ever. This is our vow.

I am Hrongar, Chief of the Coritani

From their post outside the room near the top of the stairs, Rhys and Speaks could hear the discussion fairly well. Likewise for Krase who had stationed himself outside the front door to the tavern.

The counselors immediately began talking loudly back and forth in a cacophony of voices until Cassuvius bellowed, "Quiet!". Then, "What shall we do?"

Nacalius was strongly against helping the barbarians and was quickly joined by Jucadius. Nacalius lost his brother when Aquae Sulis was raided by the Coritani several years ago.

Brathwaite quickly pointed out that helping them now can assure no further attacks in the future and that would be good for Glynden. He also voiced that if the barbarians could be kept at bay, some of the mines to the west of Glynden could be reopened.

Nacalius and Jucadius were quick to point out that they had no reason to trust the word of the barbarians and the point of whether they keep their word in the future is moot if this whole thing were a ruse to draw out their defenses and then crush Glynden. Father Thomas said that Uncle Claudius probably has magic that could ascertain whether Ilrath is telling the truth. Kyndalyn stepped outside and sent Krase to fetch Uncle Claudius.

Cassuvius pointed out that if the story is true, the orcs may make worse neighbors than the barbarians. Especially if the orcs are laying siege to Glynden in the spring, just as the crops need to be planted. Kyndalyn interjected that if the tales of his father and uncle are to be believed, he would far rather share a border with the barbarians than the orcs.

During this discussion, Krase was on his way back to the tavern with Uncle Claudius in tow. As they walked, Krase explained that if Uncle Claudius had any trouble getting the truth out of Ilrath by magical means, he would be happy to apply more primitive measures to the barbarian. Uncle Claudius assured Krase that that would not be necessary. Shortly they arrived back at Nan's.

As they entered, Krase went to Kyndalyn and offered to scout across the Fodor River (*Note: This is my name for the large river that separates the barbarian lands from the rest of the Northlands - It is a different name than that used by Old One*) to determine if the barbarians were setting up a trap. Kyndalyn thanked Krase for the offer and said that he would take that into consideration, all the while giving Krase a scolding look that said that he shouldn't be eavesdropping. Krase was seemingly oblivious to this criticism.

Kyndalyn then sent Krase back outside and gave Uncle Claudius a quick rundown of the situation. Uncle Claudius then went upstairs to use his magic on Ilrath.

Kyndalyn then rejoined the councilors at the table, saying that it would take the guard several weeks to be ready to travel. They were not an army, they were guardsmen. They also needed to do some weapon and armor maintenance that had been somewhat neglected during harvest time. As he began to talk of the supplies that would be necessary, Nacalius burst out that he could not believe that this was even being considered. These were the same barbarians who have put to ruin nearly all of the surrounding towns in the last 20 years. When Octorus voiced his opinion that they should at least consider all of their options, Nacalius stood up in outrage and went to storm out the door.

Krase heard this outburst and did not intend to let Nacalius (who was voicing many of the opinions that Krase shared) leave the meeting so easily. He braced his foot against the door to prevent Nacalius from opening it. Unfortunately for all concerned, the door opened inwards. So, while Nacalius had no trouble whatsoever opening the door, he did trip over Krase's outstretched foot when he tried to walk through it. Nacalius floundered around in the dirty street for a moment before standing and screaming at Krase with incoherent rage. He then stalked off into the evening with the gathered crowd hurrying to get out of his way.

Inside, Jucadius continued to oppose the idea of sending troops to help the barbarians, especially in the absence of any proof that it wasn't a trap. As if in answer, Uncle Claudius returns from the upstairs and proclaims that the story is true, or at least Ilrath believes it to be the truth.

Talk then began in earnest about what preparations would be required to get the guard ready to move. Kyndalyn also wanted to spend a few days preparing the defenses in case of a Gnoll attack or a barbarian double cross. Cassuvius feelt that because the barbarians are in desperate straits and not the most patient of people to begin with, immediate action of some kind is merited. Brathwaite agreed with this heartily, already counting the silver ingots that could be pulled from the mines near Aquae Sulis. Kyndalyn also agreed that immediate action would be preferable but would not compromise the safety of the town for speed.

They ultimately agreed that an advance group should be sent to the Coritani at once to act as emissaries and a show of good faith. Kyndalyn relates Krase's offer that he go and do the scouting. Ultimately, the entire party was asked to participate. All of them were capable fighting men (as had been proven recently) and none were in the guard. Jucadius especially thought this a marvelous idea because it would get that meddlesome druid out of his hair (Speaks' backstory involved some run ins with some of Jucadius' men who were torturing a farm animal. Speaks intervened and threatened to call the wolves out of the hills to hunt down the men).

The party agreed to travel with Ilrath back to the Coritani. They set about buying provisions and supplies for the trip. The council assigned them the following duties in order of importance:

1. Detect any plans of betrayal among the Coritani or other barbarian tribes.
2. Get oaths from as many of the tribes as possible that they will never again raid across the Fodor.
3. Determine if the Orcs are as much of a threat as the Coritani indicated.
4. Aid the Coritani in withstanding the Orcs until Kyndalyn's guards arrive.

The party was also provided with 2 potions of Cure Light Wounds, A Quall's feather token of a bird that can carry a message about what they find back to Uncle Claudius and ten masterwork ammunition for each missile weapons that they carried.

All of Glynden turned out to see the party off. The village council (with the exception of Nacalius who was nowhere to be seen) shook hands with each member of the group (but not Ilrath). Isabeau, still grieving the loss of her parents is absent, but sent word via the Cassuvius family that she is thankful to Rhys that he helped avenge her parents.

As the group is gathering near the town gate, a callused hand gripped Krase's shoulder. He turns and saw the forge-wrinkled face of Jaffray the Blacksmith. He said, "Come with me a moment, lad."

They stepped aside from the growing crowd into the relative seclusion of the niche between the guard tower and the city wall. "I've something to tell you, boy. It's a secret held by many of the town and I tell it now only because we're in desperate need. I tell you because of who your grandfather was."

"Years ago when the legion was recalled to the empire, a group of us mustered out. For various reasons, we decided to settle down here and in the surrounding towns. Despite the fact that we had protected the town for many years, we were not quickly accepted as fellow citizens. First of all, every last one of us was born and recruited in the heart of Emor. It was our folk that conquered these lands from the barbarians that were the forefathers of the townspeople. But that isn't the main reason they were slow to accept us. None of us had any real training or skills outside of being in the legion. We hadn't any training in the skills that were valued by the people of Glynden.

So we got together and decided that we needed to make sure that we would have someone to go to when times were bad. We formed a sort of "Brotherhood" and called it the Iron Auxilia. We agreed to contribute a portion of whatever money we earned to the group with the understanding that anybody who fell on hard times could take money out of the pot to get back on his feet. You may recall a few times when folks around town who had a misfortune were able to recover quickly. Remember when Titus Didius had his barn burn down? Remember how quickly he was able to get it rebuilt?

Anyhow, we have a meeting once a year to find out how much money is left in the Iron Auxilia chest. That's right, you guessed it: The Legionnaire's Wake. A member of the group retrieves the chest from a secret place in the countryside and brings it to the Wake. This year, Marcus was bringing the chest. All that money was stolen by those damned accursed gnolls.

If, as you journey to the west, you should come across any more of the gnolls, see if you can recover our money. It represents thirty years of savings and the memories of a lot of our brothers."

As the party made it's way west on the old, overgrown road to Aquae Sulis, Krase halted them about half an hour outside of town.

"Blood of Kord!" cried Ilrath, "I know you townfolk are soft, but you need to rest already?!"

"No." said Krase coldly. "We need to talk." He then explained about the Iron Auxilia and the stolen money. The group agreed that if the opportunity presented itself to recapture the chest from the Gnolls, they would take it. But they also agreed that it was not their primary mission and they shouldn't delay themselves excessively attempting to hunt down the Gnolls.

NEXT: Westward HO!

 

[Rel]

The party continued west on the overgrown road to Aquae Sulis. After a couple days travel, the top of a tower was spotted over the treetops in the distance, indicating that they neared the outskirts of the ruined town. Suddenly, from behind a the remains of a low, rock wall on the north side of the road, a trio of Gnolls leapt to their feet and launched several javelins into the midst of the group.

Rhys was struck and brought close to unconsciousness by the one that struck him while Krase was merely grazed and the third javelin struck Ilrath. Before any of them could react to this, another pair of gnolls stepped from behind a rock formation on the south side of the road and hurled another couple javelins. Thanks to the distance involved, these both missed their marks.

Rhys was the first to overcome the surprise of the attack and took the opportunity to fortify himself with mystical armor and retreat to the back of the group. Krase quickly pulled out his bow and let fly at one of the gnolls behind the wall but his shot struck the rocks instead of his target.

Speaks with Stone reacted by loosing a spell in a wide area that straddled the road. In this area, the grasses, roots and vines began to entangle the legs of the gnolls, much to their surprise. Unfortunately, Ilrath was unfamiliar with this type of magic and charged into the area to attack the gnolls. He rapidly became stuck.

The gnolls desperately tried to escape and failing that, threw their remaining javelins at the party. The grasping plants hindered their aim and none of the javelins struck the party. Gradually, over the next minute, the party was able to dispatch the group of gnolls with missile fire. One of the last gnolls standing sounded a long blast on a horn. Moments later, another horn blast answered the first.

The party could hear another party of gnolls approaching from the southeast. Ilrath encouraged them to follow him to take cover in the ruins of Aquae Sulis.

 

[Rel]

On the Brink of Disaster

The party made their way through the ruins of Aquae Sulis and began the trek into the wilderness beyond. Now that they were not following an actual road, they hoped that it would be difficult for the gnolls to guess what direction they were headed. Krase decided to lag a goodly distance behind the group to stay alert to any pursuit by the gnolls as they continued walking into the night.

While it may have been a good idea in theory, in practice it turned out very poorly. Krase misjudged the exact direction the party was headed and lost their trail in the darkness. By itself this would have been an annoying delay. When the gnolls caught up with the rest of the party, it was nearly fatal.

With a howl of rage, four gnolls charged out of the darkness to engage the party. Ilrath quickly moved to cut them off and found himself faced with two of them. Another ran towards Speaks with Stone but was intercepted by Arc the wolf. Rhys cast his mystical armor spell again and loaded his crossbow.

Several hundred yards away, Krase heard what was happening and began running toward the sounds of combat as fast as possible.

The humans quickly found themselves at a big disadvantage in the darkness. They swung wildly and almost none of their attacks found their marks. The gnolls on the other hand seemed full of righteous vengeance for their slain comrades (I was just rolling amazingly well for the gnolls). Within moments Ilrath was flanked by the pair he fought and was knocked to the ground on the edge of unconsciousness (0 hp exactly). The others fared little better as first Arc and then Speaks were brought low by the axes of the gnolls.

During this time, Rhys had managed to kill one with his crossbow. But then the one who had just beaten Speaks was upon him and he found himself being forced ever backward in his attempts to hold him off (5ft. step, load, 5ft. step, shoot, repeat).

In the distance, Krase called out, "I'm coming!" and continued to run toward the fighting.

The other two gnolls noted that the third surviving gnoll had the archer well in hand and ran off to find the Ranger who was crashing toward them in the darkness.

Rhys fired again from point blank range and dealt a nasty wound to the gnoll that attacked him (bringing the gnoll to 1hp). The gnoll retreated as Rhys sighed with relief…until the gnoll stopped by the fallen form of Speaks with Stone and raised his axe. "Drop the bow or your friend dies!" growled the gnoll.

Knowing that he had only one shot, Rhys gave a quick prayer and let fly with his crossbow…and missed. With a bark of defiance, the gnoll brought down his axe to coup-de-grace the unconscious Druid…which provoked an attack from Ilrath who had managed to get to his feet and stagger over to the fallen Druid. Ilrath's greataxe brought the gnoll down with a sickening crunch before he himself toppled over, unconscious and bleeding.

Rhys ran to Speaks and administered the last of the healing potions that they were given by the Glynden Council. This brought Speaks to the bleary edge of consciousness (exactly 0hp). Speaks in turn used one of his minor curative magics to stabilize Ilrath and lapsed back into darkness. Rhys used what little knowledge of healing that he possessed and managed to get Speaks bandaged to the point of not dying. He then hurried to Speaks' fallen wolf friend to find him barely clinging to life (Arc stabilized on his own at -7).

Off in the woods, a new combat was beginning to unfold. Krase heard the approach of the gnolls and stopped running. He hid himself behind a pair of thick tree trunks (much better than outside the tower) and waited. When the gnolls passed near enough for him to see in the moonlight, he fired his bow, striking one down with a single arrow. The other stopped. When it heard the bow fired again, it ran back in the direction of the original fight, abandoning its fallen friend.

Krase pursued the final gnoll while trying to remain hidden. As it approached the site of the earlier battle, it called out, "Did you finish off that puny archer yet?". Rhys, who spoke some gnollish replied "Uh, yeah.", in a not very convincing tone. But it mattered not. Krase appeared behind the gnoll and shot it in the back, sending it into oblivion.

"Well it's about time you showed up!" said Rhys. Krase stepped out of the darkness to find Rhys the only one of his companions who was still standing.

NEXT: Turning the Tables

 

[Rel]

Turning the Tables

As the dust settled from the fight, the party was in desperate need for rest and healing (they had a total of 4 hp between the five of them). Krase however, was absolutely certain () that they needed to press on as soon as possible to get away from the scene of the battle. The rested for three hours until Ilrath regained consciousness and then they continued staggering, zombielike to the west with Ilrath carrying the wolf.

A couple of hours later, unable to continue on, they collapsed and slept until midday. Speaks called upon the healing powers of nature and brought the party back from the brink of death but still far from healthy. The began to debate the idea of resting at that location for another day when they heard more gnollish horns in the distance. They judged that they were no more than half a day behind the party. With a sigh of resignation, they picked up their packs and began their westward journey once again.

As they walked, they spoke of wanting to do something to discourage the gnolls from following them further. They asked Ilrath if there were anywhere that they might ambush the gnolls along their path. He commented that there was a ridgeline where one of the Imperial Legions had held off an attack by the barbarians many years before that might be suitable. They made for the ridge with determination.

Once they located the ridgeline, they determined that it made a great ambush site - if the enemy was approaching from the west, which the gnolls were not. It was becoming obvious that Ilrath had no inkling of defensive strategy. But it was all they had, and they were still very tired so they decided that the boulder strewn ridgeline would be where they faced one of the gnoll patrols that pursued them.

As they waited, they could hear three distinct patrols following them. Each had a horn and they sounded two blasts of their horn hourly. It was decided that when they approached, they group would take down the horn blower first to prevent him from alerting the other patrols to their presence. They waited.

Near sundown the gnolls appeared over the next hilltop, obviously following the trail of the party. They moved as rapidly as possible while still keeping to the tracks. When they approached within 60 feet of the boulders, the party stood and let fly with arrows, bolts and stones. The horn blower was felled immediately and the battle was joined.

Two of the remaining gnolls ran to engage Krase and Rhys while the others went after Speaks and his wolf. As two of them crossed the ridge line, Ilrath sprang from behind his boulder and cut one nearly in half with his greataxe. The other was attacked by Arc and the longspear-wielding Druid. The second gnoll was immediately wounded by Speaks but did manage to land a blow against Arc with his battleaxe (poor Arc has been, by far, the biggest damage magnet in the party). Moments later, he was flanked by the barbarian and quickly put down like the dog that he resembled.

On the other side of the battlefield, Krase had dropped his bow in favor of the twin gladii that his grandfather had left him. He began to nick away at his opponent. Rhys was again reduced to the step-load-step-shoot routine that had served him adequately in the last battle (why the boy won't use a short bow is beyond me). In short order, Krase finished off his opponent and turned on the one fighting Rhys. A couple of short sword stabs and a crossbow bolt later and he was on the ground too.

The two remaining gnolls, wounded from missile fire early in the fight, fled the scene with tails between their legs. A couple of arrows were fired in their direction, but no pursuit was attempted. The party made a quick search of the gnolls belongings and then began heading west again, taking with them the horn.

A debate immediately began as to whether they should sound the horn twice, indicating that the patrol was fine but still searching or whether to not sound it at all. While they were still arguing about it, one of the other patrols sounded off. The other answered. And Krase blew the horn twice in response. They marched on.

NEXT: Desperate Flight for the Fodor

 

[Rel]

Desperate Flight for the Fodor

A short while later, they stopped for the night. By then they figured that the two gnolls that escaped their ambush had found one of the other patrols and therefore the game was up. They didn't sound the horn again. In the morning, Speaks cast more of his healing magic and brought the party up to nearly full strength.

During the day, while they walked, they assessed their distance from the Fodor. They estimated that they were still around three days walk if they had no more run ins with the gnolls. They knew how hard they had been pushing themselves and how close to exhaustion they had been. They assumed that the gnolls must be in similar condition. They decided to make a forced march for the river, stopping for only a few hours here and there for rest.

They marched throughout the day and stopped for several hours when darkness fell (Note - this is the northlands in autumn. Darkness falls early and night is long.). In the middle of the night they started out again with the Druid in the lead. His affinity with nature was such that he could always find the easiest path, even in darkness. After a few more hours, they stopped in the pre-dawn darkness to rest a bit more. By the sounds of the horns in the distance, it seemed that the gnolls were still pursuing but were still nearly a day's travel behind them.

At dawn, they once again forged ahead. Near noontime, they stopped at a cluster of boulders to take a quick lunch of some of the last of their supplies. As they stood by the rocks, Rhys glanced over at the boulder near Krase. It blinked.

Rhys let out a cry but even as the words left his lips, a lanky humanoid shape that was all arms and legs shot out and grappled Krase, cutting his skin with bony protrusions on it's limbs as it attempted to encircle his neck. With apparent ice water flowing in his veins, Rhys raised his crossbow and shot the creature right through the head (Natural 20, confirmed critical, over 20 points of damage - Note - Rhys has Point Blank Shot and Precise Shot). Krase hastily unwrapped the thing from his torso and flung it to the ground, giving it a swift kick for good measure.

It turned out to be what was called a Choker in Imperial lands. Ilrath indicated that his people called them Rock Worms and complimented Rhys on killing such a swift and deadly creature. Rhys took but a moment to accept the compliment before he was hunting around for any treasure the creature might have (I swear, if he was any greedier I'd think he was a peck).

Rhys found a small hole at the base of the rocks. He wriggled inside and was able to locate a handful of coins and a pair of spiked gauntlets. He managed to get out of the hole without getting stuck but it was a close thing (GM Note - This was a total brain fart on the part of the player. He has the Mage Hand Cantrip but in never occurred to him to use it. Instead he risked being attacked if there had been another Choker down there and got very dirty. Getting attacked and getting dirty are two of the things his character hates most.)

Ilrath asked to look at the gauntlets and noted that they bore the forge mark of Wulfrax the smith, a Brigantes weapon maker of some renown. Rhys shrugged and put the gauntlets in his sack.

The group marched on through the afternoon. The fatigue was beginning to take its toll when they stopped at sundown. The whole group was tired but with the sounds of the gnolls horns far in the distance, they felt that their forced march was working. They agreed to rest for just a few hours and hike through the rest of the night. Ilrath indicated that they should reach the banks of the Fodor by morning.

And he was right. At mid morning the party broke through the treeline to find the impressive sight of the mighty Fodor before them (in my campaign this river is approximately the size of the Mississippi - that's roughly a mile across [or 1.6 kilometers] for those of you from outside the States). Ilrath took a moment to get his bearings and said that they should head north a bit to where he left his canoe.

A bit later, from the vantage atop the riverbank, Ilrath spotted the cluster of willows where he had camouflaged his small boat. This clump of trees was just over a hundred feet from the riverbank across a grassy mud flat (being fall, the river was considerably below its springtime levels when the snow melts from the surrounding mountain chains). Fishing in the waters near the shady roots of the trees was a large brown bear.

"This is all you, nature boy." Said Krase, giving Speaks with Stone a slight shove in the right direction.

Speaks gave Krase a slight glare at his impious reference to the beautiful crafting of the earth mother. Nonetheless, he agreed that this situation was "all him". He gave orders for Arc to guard Rhys (Arc doesn't seem to comprehend the "stay" command very well) and headed out across the mud flat. The rest of the group moved upstream to put the clump of trees between themselves and the bear.

Speaks approached the bear slowly (not that he had a lot of other options with the mud sucking at his boots) and with care. As he got closer, he discovered how large this bear really was. Far bigger than the black bears that roamed the forests near Glynden. The bear swatted a fish out of the water that landed twitching and bloody on the riverbank. The bear eyed Speaks suspiciously as though he might try to steal his catch.

Speaks calmly emoted that he wished no harm to the bear and made his way toward the cluster of willows. The bear watched but didn't move toward him.

Once among the willows, Speaks quickly located the canoe that was overturned and tied to the trees. He untied it and with some effort turned it over. It was a dugout and very heavy. Beneath it he found a pair of paddles. With some effort, and having to put his feet in the icy waters of the Fodor, he got the boat in the water. He climbed in and paddled upstream a short distance to where the rest of the party waited. He couldn't help but notice that the canoe rode quite low in the water.

Just about the time the group was reunited, they heard the horn of the gnolls in the distance. They estimated them to be around a day's travel behind them. Plenty of time. Or so they thought.

Ilrath explained that the boat could only carry two people at a time because more weight than that would swamp the boat. It took roughly an hour to paddle across the Fodor. Doing some quick math, Rhys declared that there was no problem: It would take only five hours to transport the four of them. "But there are five of us." Said Speaks and all eyes turned toward Arc. That would mean seven hours - cutting it awfully close to when the gnolls would arrive.

There was some talk about trying to stand and fight the gnolls again like they did on the ridge. Ultimately they decided that even gnolls were not dumb enough to attack in such small numbers again. This time would be the bulk of their group. They must try to make it across the river or resign themselves to the fact that they may die fighting the gnolls.

Ilrath offered to stay behind to hold the gnolls off while the rest of the group paddled to safety. This idea was vetoed for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that Ilrath was the most adept at paddling the canoe. In a moment of un-barbarianlike clarity, Ilrath came up with a plan. He ordered Rhys into the boat while explaining that they could make it in fewer trips if they left most of their gear on the far bank.

He and Rhys took off across the river while Speaks, Krase and Arc began walking down stream so that Ilrath wouldn't have to waste effort correcting for the current. When Ilrath arrived with Rhys on the far bank, he removed everything but his clothing and gave it to Rhys. He then returned to the eastern bank of the river where he loaded Krase aboard along with almost all of the gear Speaks carried. With Krase paddling too, they made good time to the western bank where Krase was dropped off along with Speaks' possessions. Once again, Ilrath returned to the eastern bank.

What the party hadn’t counted on was that by walking downstream, they were backtracking and moving in the direction of their original trail, which the gnolls were following. As the canoe came to rest on the eastern shore, the gnolls emerged from the trees on the riverbank, some 150 feet away. Neither Ilrath nor Speaks were armed or armored.

Speaks urged Arc into the canoe and calmed him as much as possible as Ilrath pushed them off the mud flat and into the river. A score of gnolls were attempting to run across the flat as fast as possible but the mud slowed their progress to a crawl. In desperation they threw a few javelins which landed harmlessly in the water. Moments later the canoe was safely out in the river and the gnolls could only shake their furry fists in frustration.

It took all of Ilrath's skill at boat handling (which wasn't nearly as much as the rest of the party seemed to think) to keep the boat from swamping with such a heavy load. Fortunately, Speaks was able to keep Arc calm the entire trip and they paddled their way to safety on the western side of the Fodor.

NEXT: Arrival in the Lands of the Coritani

 

[Rel]

Arrival in the Lands of the Coritani

The party spent the night camping on the bank of the river having a fire and a hot meal for the first time in what seemed like forever. It was also a time for them to pat each other on the back a bit for handling themselves well under pressure. For the first time, Ilrath began to feel like part of the group instead of an outsider whom they were all very suspicious of.

During this time, Ilrath explained a bit about the inter-tribal politics they will encounter upon arriving in Rilaga, the village where Hrongar is holding his counsel of war. Part of this explanation involves the leadership and different "totem spirits" worshipped by each tribe.

The Brigantes have the bear as their totem. They have always some of the most powerful heroes and carry a great deal of respect. Their current leader, Urdrax, has seen some of his most mighty warriors fall before the might of the orcish horde. He is in agreement with Hrongar that the tribes should fight together and seek aid from the "Imperials". It is also noted that Urdrax has an affinity for dwarves. All the tales he has heard indicate that they are the mightiest of warriors and he knows that some of them dwell in Glynden. He is anxious to involve them in the fighting if at all possible.

The Nervii have the wolf as their totem. They live on the northern edge of the barbarian lands and have suffered most harshly from the horde. Their leader, Canjarl, has stayed behind with his warriors instead of coming to the counsel of war. His underchief, Wamic, is representing the tribe at the council being held. He was supportive of seeking aid from Glynden.

The Suevi have the mountain lion as their totem. Their chief, Relmar, is young and brash. He saw no need to involve the outlanders at all. He believes that the horde will fall apart on it's own if the tribes can just hold them off until spring. Ilrath has dim hopes that Relmar will be persuaded to make a pact not to raid across the Fodor anymore.

The Allmani have the hawk as their totem. Because they are the most nomadic of the tribes and the large lands they roam are nearest to the Blackpeak Mountains, they are well informed of the movements and size of the horde. They are represented at the council by Seshmarl, son of the chief. He has been trying to quickly organize the tribes and to involve the outlanders. Seshmarl and Relmar have nearly come to blows several times over the issue.

The Coritani have no totem. Their tattoos bear the sign for freedom (This is because their tribe was formed from a collection of random slaves, who escaped from the Empire during the civil war that started it on its downward slide. They worship their ancestors but respect the totem worship of the other tribes from which their ancestors descended). For the last generation, they have been the dominant tribe in the Western Wilds. They have more warriors than any of the other tribes (Ilrath fails to remind the party that this is principally due to spoils they have gained by raiding the various Imperial towns in the Northern Provinces since the withdrawal of the Legions).

The current situation has put the Coritani in an even stronger position of power as the other tribes attempt to sway them to help protect their lands. But Hrongar knows from his experience of raiding across the Fodor that fighting a defensive battle is far different from the raiding that the tribes are used to. He has only encountered one enemy that stood against him time after time: Glynden.

The next morning they begin to move inland and slightly northwards toward Rilaga. As they travel, they pass through a Coritani fishing village near the river. The village consists of just a few straw and mud huts. There are no men of fighting age in the village. A group of women and old men are patching the roof of one of the huts.

Ilrath goes over and speaks with this group of people and find out about current events. The rest of the party stands there observing how pathetic the village seems and, for the first time, note the fact that none of them actually speak the language of the barbarian tribes (Fodoran). It begins to dawn on them that this rather hampers their ability to open a dialogue with the tribes and will certainly make it tough to determine if a barbarian backstab is going on. They wallow uncomfortably in their idiocy while Ilrath speaks to the villagers.

He returns to the group and they resume their march toward Rilaga. As they go, he relates that all the warriors have been called to service to help hold off the orcs. The villagers have heard tales of the orcs attacking the Nervii in the north and that the Coritani and Brigantes have banded together. They have no information about the involvement of the other tribes.

They walk through the afternoon and are assured by Ilrath that if they press on just a bit after darkness they will reach Rilaga. Having become quite used to travelling at night, they do so.

They hear the camp long before they see it. There are sounds of drums and voices raised in songs of battle (not that the characters know they are songs of battle since they don't speak the language - dumbasses). The first arrive at a large tent-city at the edge of the village. It appears that the bulk of the Coritani warriors are gathered in Rilaga and that there are representatives from the other tribes as well.

They make their way toward the ale hall in the center of the village where Hrongar is no doubt holding council with the other chieftains. On their way they draw many stares from the various barbarian warriors gathered around the many cookfires scattered throughout the village. As they near the ale hall, which is the most impressive bit of Coritani architecture they've yet seen, Arc bounds away from Speaks side and runs toward the lanky form of one of the barbarians. This particular warrior has long dark hair worn in a braid and sports many tattoos and lots of silver jewelry in the form of bracelets, anklets and a large torc.

Arc crouched low and began to growl at this man while Speaks ran over to protect Arc or the warrior, whoever seemed to need it most. The warrior growled at Arc in return and the two of them circle each other, Arc with his hackles raised and the barbarian with the muscles in his shoulders bunching. They seem locked in some sort of primal stare and just as Speaks is about to break things up, Arc emits a short whimper and lurks back to his side.

The warrior turns to Speaks and asks in heavily accented Imperial if the wolf is his companion. Speaks replied that he was and demanded to know what that was all about. The barbarian told him that they were just sorting out whose territory they were in. Speaks gave him a curious stare at this comment but turned around and followed the others into the ale hall.

Inside the lodge it was smoky and dim with the light coming from several braziers set along the walls. Ilrath escorted the party to the back of the single room building where the head table was raised on a wooden platform above the rest of the room. At the table sat a collection of barbarians, young and old whom the party assumed must be the various tribal chieftains.

The first to greet them was the aging but still hearty Hrongar. He rose to his feet and clasped forearms with Ilrath, giving him a clap of greeting on the shoulder that could have knocked a lesser man off his feet. They spoke briefly in Fodoran before Hrongar greeted the rest of the party in heavily accented Imperial and invited them to sit at his table.

He introduced the others at the table who included all of the other tribal representatives except for Relmar. It also turned out that the barbarian who Arc had the confrontation with outside was none other than Wamic, representative of the Nervii who was just sitting down at the table.

Hrongar immediately began to ask the party about how his offer was received in Glynden and what sort of an army they were planning on bringing with them. The group hemed and hawed for a few moments before admitting that Glynden would be sending approximately 50 men to aid them and that it would be another two weeks before they arrived. In view of the couple of hundred barbarian warriors gathered at Rilaga, that seemed a pitifully small number. But Hrongar, ever the savvy leader, reminded the other chieftains that the important fact was that the folk of Glynden knew much about building defensive fortifications than the barbarians did.

He turned back to the party to ask if any of them were specifically trained in the creation of such defenses.

*party glances back and forth at each other for an uncomfortably long time*

"Um, actually, not so much."

Hrongar came close to losing his temper but restrained himself and asked what precisely was the purpose of the party's journey to his lands.

They replied that they were there to negotiate the treaty with the various tribal chieftains and to determine in what ways the folk of Glynden could aid the tribes in their struggle against the orcs. Hrongar was clearly disappointed but decided that the hour was growing late and many of the heads present were clouded by ale. The decision was made to gather back in the ale hall in the morning to talk about the war effort.

NEXT: Diplomats or Just Dips?

 

[Rel]

After spending the night on cots and getting a couple good meals in their bellies, the party felt better than they had in days. Ilrath told the others that he would see them later as he needed to try to find news of his brothers and was not part of the negotiations in any event. He wished the others luck and left the hut.

The remainder of the group made their way to the ale hall where most of the chieftains had gathered around one of the table. Relmar was still absent but gathered at one end of the table were three shamans from the various tribes whom the party had not met yet. Hrongar introduces them as Krusk, shaman of the Coritani, Orthula, shaman of the Suevi (who is also a rather attractive young woman whom Krase immediately begins to make passes at with approximately the sophistication of "hubba-hubba") and Uthrus, shaman of the Allmani.

A few minutes later, Relmar came strolling into the hall and took a seat across from Speaks with Stone. With all interested parties present, Hrongar made a few additional introductions and the negotiations got underway.

Note: At this time, none of the party yet speak the language of the barbarians and only a few of the barbarians present spoke Imperial. A lot of whispering was going on to describe what was being said on both sides.

Hrongar opened with a brief speech about how the people of the Fodor and the people of Glynden had struggled against one another for too long. He regretted that it took an invasion by the orcs to bring them to the peace table but that he hoped that a long and friendly relationship would develop as result. During this speech, the party glanced at one another to assure that they all felt that this was a fairly considerable pile of sheep dung.

Nonetheless, they thanked Hrongar for his words and began to solicit the promises of the other tribes to cease any raiding of the lands east of the Fodor in exchange for aid against the orcs from Glynden.

Urdrax of the Brigantes was clearly ready to make such an agreement subject to a few minor conditions. He had heard many tales from his father about the combat prowess and steadfast nature of the dwarves. He knew that there were dwarves that lived in Glynden and wished them to be part of the battle against the orcs. He also knew of a group of dwarves who were rumored to live north of the Nervii lands and he wanted the party to aid in trying to bring them into the alliance as well.

The party quickly agreed to these conditions and Urdrax pledged that his people would ever after respect the boundary of the Fodor River.

Seshmarl of the Allmani was also ready to make such a pledge. He made no lengthy speeches and no demands before offering his bond. Of course, although it wasn’t spoken, everybody present knew that the Allmani had almost never raided across the Fodor anyway. So they really weren't giving up much.

Then Wamic of the Nervii spoke up. Being one of the few barbarians who could speak Imperial, he addressed the party directly. His concern was that the warriors of Glynden would not be willing to stand and fight before the might of the horde. Knowing that they were not fighting for their home soil and that they were defending the lands of their historic enemies, they would put up a token defense at best.

Rhys (who was acting as spokesman for the party) assured him that Glynden had a well trained and well disciplined fighting force. He could not directly speak for them since he was not their commander but he maintained that if they were given the word, they would fight to the best of their ability. Then (in a very bold move that could easily have had disastrous results) he mentioned that the leader of their forces was none other than Kyndalyn the Younger, son of Kyndalyn the Fair and nephew to Farinmail the Sorcerer.

There was a collective gasp around the table at the mention of these names. Rhys went on to remind them that Kyndalyn the Fair and his brother, along with their score of staghounds, had killed nearly a hundred Coritani raiders outside the gates of Glynden a generation ago. He assured them that those who fought for Glynden now would fight just as bravely. This drew many wide eyed stares from those seated at the table (including Speaks and Krase) who wondered if Wamic or even Hrongar would rise and slay this puny villager for reminding them of their greatest defeat.

Instead, Wamic smiled and lauded the bravery of those warriors of past years. He said that if the son of Kyndalyn the Fair led the warriors of Glynden and if he would personally pledge their willingness to stand and fight that he would agree to the pact not to raid across the Fodor. Although Rhys wished to secure that pledge in advance of the arrival of the Glynden troops, he decided that this agreement was good enough for him.

Finally, Relmar of the Suevi spoke up and his words were translated for the party. He did not call into question the bravery of Kyndalyn the Fair or Farinmail the Sorcerer but he did doubt the fortitude of the folk of Glynden. He knew all too well how many towns had fallen among the northern provinces since the time of Kyndalyn the Fair. He challenged any of the party members to fight him to prove that the people of Glynden were not the soft weaklings he suspected they were.

Krase was instantly ready to take up this challenge and rose to his feet. But Seshmarl stepped in quickly and demanded to take up the challenge against Relmar as champion for the party from Glynden. Rhys and Speaks were giving Krase the stink eye because they were fairly sure that Relmar would completely mop the floor with him and they were not there to fight in any event. Then the lot of them were shouted down by Hrongar.

Hrongar told Relmar in no uncertain terms that no such duel would take place in his lands. By the custom of their people, any tribesman could challenge any other to single combat. But he was quick to remind Relmar that the party from Glynden were not tribesmen. He could not, by tradition, disallow a challenge to be made against Seshmarl but he asked them to consider the consequences. If Seshmarl won, the Suevi would have lost their second chief in less than a year. If Relmar won, the Allmani would lose the son of their chieftain. In either event, there would be bad blood between the tribes and that was the worst thing that could happen in this time of crisis.

It was decided that any challenge between Relmar and Seshmarl would wait until after the conflict with the orcs was resolved. With that, Relmar stalked out of the negotiations, not having agreed to the pact. Hrongar decided that it would be best to break and seek some food and fresh air before continuing the talks. The party left to find some lunch and to try to form a strategy for the rest of the negotiations.

NEXT: Revelations and Preparations

 

[Rel]

As the group exited the ale hall and began to spread out, Speaks with Stone stopped Wamic to ask him some questions. During their brief conversation he was able to gather more information about the orcish invasion than the party had discovered during the entire first half of the negotiations. The salient points included the following:

The combined forces of the barbarian tribes boast somewhere around 450 warriors.

The orcs number somewhere around 1,200.

The orcs seem to be largely immune from the effects of cold weather and although they suffer penalties in direct sunlight, that won't be a problem for them from the time of the first snowfalls (a few weeks away at most) until spring.

The orcs also don't have a problem with supply lines because they have been eating any barbarians (including women, children and elderly) who they've killed during their raids.

The totem spirits that the various tribes worship provide them with certain powers so long as they are within the lands sacred to that particular totem.

There is a lot of political wrangling going on as to where the tribes should fight the orcs since everybody wants to be on their home turf to gain the benefits provided by their totem spirits.

The Coritani have risen greatly in power because they have a lot of warriors and since they have no totem spirit of their own, they can fight equally well anywhere. Most of the other tribes are trying to get Hrongar to agree to send his warriors to defend their lands.

Armed with this newfound wealth of information, Speaks hurried off to catch up with Rhys and Krase. But before he made it ten steps, the lovely Orthula intercepted him. She told him that tales of his magic had spread to the tribal shamans and they would like to talk to him about them. She asked him to meet with them that afternoon after the talks. She also said that as the head shaman for the Suevi, she would try to get Relmar to see the importance of making peace with the Imperials. But she acknowledged that he is trying to prove himself to be as great a leader as his father and could be very stubborn and arrogant at times.

Speaks finally caught up with Rhys and Krase and delivered the bounty of information he had discovered. They were chagrinned at the news and were a bit worried about what the people of Glynden were signing on for. If the orcs outnumbered the barbarians by nearly 3 to 1, they would need a miracle to make it through this without becoming a culinary delight for the orcs. They did consider that if they have enough time that some relatively decent fortifications could be erected that might give them enough of an advantage. Still, their hopes were not high.

They soon returned to the negotiating table to find that Relmar would not be rejoining them. This surprised no one and displeased them even less. Having resolved (mostly) the fact that the barbarians would sign a pact indicating that they would no longer attack any of the settlements across the Fodor River, talk turned to what the party and the barbarians should be doing in the immediate future.

Although nobody in the party had any precise knowledge of engineering or defensive construction, they were certain of the fact that the barbarians should begin cutting lots of logs for use in constructing these things when the forces from Glynden arrived. There would certainly be those among Kyndalyn's men who would know a great deal about earthworks and palisades and it would be best if the barbarians had a site and materials ready to go when they got there.

Hrongar told them that they would try to decide as soon as possible where to erect these defenses. He then informed the party that he had a mission for them that would fulfill their promise to Urdrax.

Barbarian legends held that to the north, beyond the lands of the Nervii, lived a group of dwarves who had, in ages past, forged weapons that would slay orcs with the greatest of ease. Unfortunately, most of these weapons had been lost over the years because their owners would tend to head off into the Blackpeaks seeking orcs to slay. And sooner or later they would not return from one of these trips, presumably having been killed in battle with the orcs or another of the denizens of the mountains.

Having some of these weapons would undoubtedly help the war effort. More importantly though was the prospect of recruiting the dwarves themselves to aid the tribes in battling the orcs. If the orcs were forced to defend against the dwarves from the north and the barbarians in the south, they would have to split their forces and would be more easily defeated.

Since the party is obviously so skilled in diplomacy ( Hey, at least they SPEAK dwarven!) Hrongar wants them to journey to where the dwarves live and seek their aid in the struggle against the orcs. Ilrath would accompany them to act as a guide and to represent the barbarians in any negotiations with the dwarves assuming that they would require payment for the orc-slaying weapons.

Rhys asked Hrongar where exactly the dwarves lived in the northlands. Hrongar explained that while he had never been there himself, it was reportedly easy to find. The dwarves dwelled in a mountain that stood all alone in a snowy plain. They called it the "Stone Tooth".

NEXT: New Companions and New Directions

 

[Rel]

NEXT: New Companions and New Directions

*In this section, I'll include the write-ups that I handed each player before the session to provide the exposition of what happened in the couple days following the negotiations with the tribal chieftains. I should also note that I forgot to mention earlier that Rhys used the two identify scrolls that he found in the wizard's tower to ID the wand and candle they also found there. The wand was a Wand of Detect Magic (with about 8 charges) and the candle was a unique magic item. It could be used a total of 12 times to produce either of two effects, both of which required 8 hours of uninterrupted meditation (if the meditation was interrupted, the charge was lost but no effects were produced). The effects were (1) Identify cast at caster level 3 (up to 3 items could be ID'd per use) or (2) All spells prepared for the day received the benefit of the Extend Spell metamagic feat. The trick with the candle was that only Rhys could use effect #1 because Identify wasn't on Speaks' spell list and only Speaks could use effect #2 because Rhys was a sorcerer and didn't prepare spells.*

Info for Speaks With Stone

The afternoon after the negotiations have concluded, the shamans who are present in the village ask to meet with you. You withdraw some distance from the village and rather abruptly the group of them sit down on the ground in a circle. For a while, nobody speaks and Krusk, shaman of the Coritani passes a pipe around. Eventually, Uthrus begins to ask you a number of questions concerning your beliefs and practices.

When they learn that you are trying to protect as much of the wilds from incursions by the Imperials, they seem surprised and pleased. They speak some of what their customs entail (most of which you have already learned from Wamic). Talk then turns to magic.

They have heard tales of the things you are capable of and wish to learn some of your magic. They ask if you are willing to teach them the secret of the "grasping roots" that they have heard about through Ilrath. (I assume that you are willing, based on our earlier conversations. However, if I recall correctly, you didn’t have it prepared for that day.) You explain the idea behind the spell, which they seem to grasp readily enough. You promise to provide a demonstration on the following day.

Uthrus offers to teach you some magic in return. He has noticed that none in your group can speak the barbarian tongue. He says that his people have a way to draw upon the wisdom of their ancestors who have spoken many tongues over the years. When the proper invocations are said, you can hear the voices of the ancestors speak words you understand, even when someone is saying them in an unfamiliar language. He and the other shamans will teach you these invocations in exchange for your teachings about the "grasping roots". (In effect, you can add the Comprehend Languages spell to your available spells to prepare. But, due to the source of the spell, you can only understand the spoken word and it only functions in the lands of the barbarian ancestors. You have no idea how far those lands extend. But the shamans can assure you that they range at least as far north as the Stone Tooth and at least as far east as Glynden.)

While they teach you the way to call upon their ancestors, you talk of other things. They learn of your fondness for brewing. They explain that they too enjoy a good beer at times. They also talk about the ways that they can imbue some of their drinks with magic. You say that this is a practice that is common among the druid order you come from and that although you are interested in it, you have never done it. They agree to show you the ways of magical brewing in the hopes that you will come back and teach them more of your magic after you return from the dwarven mountain.

With that, you part for the evening and walk back to Rilaga. There, Hrongar speaks to the gathered warriors about the agreements that have been struck with you and the others from Glynden. He speaks about your journey to bring the dwarves into the battle on the side of the barbarians (this especially excites the Brigantes). All of the other chiefs who have signed the "treaty" make speeches too. There is much drinking of beer and banging of swords and axes on shields. All in all, more people and hoopla than you are comfortable with. You depart the village, seeking solace in the woodland night.

As you depart the firelight, a hand grips your arm and you turn to see Orthula’s face in the moonlight. Wordlessly, she leads you deeper into the woods. Eventually you are far enough from the village and close enough to a stream that the sound of the water drowns out the sounds of the celebration. There on the bank of the stream she offers herself to you.

(If you choose not to accept her offer, skip the next paragraph. Oh hell, read it anyway. You might as well at least know what you’re missing. Either way, just look over at me and shake your head yes or no so I know your answer.) *He went for it!*

(I figured you’d go for it) Having never known the touch of a "civilized" woman, many of Orthula’s ways of lovemaking are unshocking. But when she is fully taken in the moment, her…ferocity is such that you are briefly reminded of your encounter with the Wood Wife many years ago *GM Note - This was an event described in the character's background where he was tricked into losing his virginity with a woodland spirit*. Afterwards, you lie together wrapped in her heavy fur cloak. You sting from the welts and cuts left from her teeth and nails but you sleep a peaceful and exhausted sleep that has not been yours in quite some time. Here in this untamed land, lying in the arms of a clearly untamed woman, you almost, almost feel at home. It is only in the dark hours of the morning that you wake alone and cold. But your shaking is not from the cold. It is from the dream that awakened you. A dream where blackened tongues raised inhuman howls to the sky and dark figures danced in the light of giant bonfires that boiled huge iron kettles.

In the next couple of days, you spend nearly all of your time in the woods away from Rilaga teaching and learning. Despite your earlier encounter, Orthula is civil but hardly flirtatious. You learn a great deal about the ancestral hero worship of the barbarians and the totem spirits that their heroes embody. As the time draws near for you to depart for the Stone Tooth, Orthula visits you again. Again there are no words exchanged but this time she leaves you with a pouch containing the herbs necessary for brewing your own magical potions (200gp worth).

As you depart for the north, you cannot say that your spirit is at rest. In the distance, dozens of axes can be heard, biting the forest as the barbarians prepare the poles for their palisade. Whether the trees of this largely virgin forest are destined for barbarian fortresses or Orcish bonfires you cannot say. But the bitter wind whispers in your ears that this land will never be the same.

Info for Krase

You spend most of the next three days and nights in the almost constant company of Ilrath. He is able to serve as translator for you in trying to get the other tribesmen to understand your instructions about building fortifications.

At times you find yourself pausing to reflect on how much you distrusted Ilrath when you first met him. Your grandfather would never have believed your story had you told him that someday you would be companion to a barbarian. Had you told him that the folk of Glynden would be fighting a war on the same side as the barbarians, he would have beaten you for drinking all of grandfather Wakenzaki’s beer. *GM Note - An old dwarven friend of Krase's grandfather was a close friend to the family and helped raise Krase. The dwarf bore the rather odd name of Wakenzaki and was renowned for his excellent beer*.

But here you are, trying to get the barbarians to understand how to build a fortress. Never before has such a sharp line been drawn between your grandfather’s generation and yours.

In your spare moments, you teach what you can remember of the fighting techniques that Wakenzaki taught, should you ever meet an Orc. It isn’t much, but it keeps your hands busy. Hands that would far rather be plunging one of your gladii into the belly of the Gnolls left on the homeward shore of the Fodor. You will return to deal with them soon enough. For now the Orcs will have to do.

Not soon enough, you find your friends, including Ilrath, and yourself with your feet on a path to the north. The day is clear and cold. Behind you as well as eastward are those who depend on you to do your duty. Before you are allies to be made and enemies to be slain. You can’t think of a better way to embark on the adventure of a lifetime.

Info for Rhys

With Speaks With Stone occupied talking to the tribal shamans and Krase and Ilrath spending all day talking to the other barbarians about palisades and fortifications, you find yourself at loose ends. To be certain, you feel a sense of accomplishment at having secured the oaths of three of the tribes who wish the aid of the forces of Glynden. You look forward to locating and negotiating with the dwarves of the Stone Tooth where warm hearths are sure to be in greater abundance. But for now, you are somewhat bored and frustrated.

There are a few girls about and it is clear that they are curious to get a look at the outlanders (no doubt especially the one who moves with the grace of a cat but speaks with a tongue of silver). But your lack of understanding of their language provides a barrier to any meaningful conversations. And any hopes of communicating in the "universal language" are quickly dampened by the presence of a couple hundred uncivilized berserker warriors who all seem to have been born with an axe in their hands and a chip on their shoulders.

For the first time you can recall in a long while, you are alone and have nobody to talk to.

Your thoughts turn to the arcane ritual that you spoke about with Speaks With Stone. *GM Note - Rhys had just leveled to 2nd and was now a full fledged Sorcerer (instead of a 0/0 apprentice level Rogue/Sorcerer) and as such wanted to summon a familiar which would require 100gp worth of materials and a full day ritual*. In the morning, you see him wandering into the village with a confused and concerned look on his face. His back is probably killing him from sleeping on a bunch of tree roots somewhere since he certainly wasn’t in his bunk last night. No matter. After a brief conversation with him, he directs you to speak with Krusk, shaman of the Coritani.

Krusk seems anxious to return to whatever Speaks and the other shamans are doing, but he listens to your request for the ingredients required for the ritual. He tells you that the herbs, incense and candle necessary are rare and hard to find. He asks if you have anything in trade.

Casting about on your person for anything of value, you come upon the pair of spiked gauntlets that have been tangled in the bottom of your pack these last few days. (If you don’t want to trade the gauntlets, you don’t have to. But you will need to provide something of approximately 100gp value to give for the ingredients. If you decide not to trade the gauntlets, just let me know and skip the next paragraph). *He opted to trade the gauntlets*

Krusk examines the gauntlets and notes the smith mark on them. He tells you that he cannot trade the ingredients for the gauntlets because it would not be fair to you. He then asks you to wait. He leaves and returns in a few minutes. In exchange for the gauntlets, he offers you the ingredients you request as well as a "magic writing" that was captured on one of the many raids against the people of the northland villages. The "magic writing" is a scroll that includes the spells Detect Undead, Grease and Levitate on it. You accept.

You stash the scroll in your gear and gather a few items from your spartan quarters including one of the smaller braziers, some unburned coals and a hunk of fresh venison. You then seek an area outside the village that isn’t occupied by barbarians felling trees at the direction of Krase and Ilrath. Although you had to walk more than a mile, you manage to locate a clearing, free of any distractions and with grass thick enough to provide a comfortable seat. You begin your ritual.

You carefully crumble the herbs into a coarse powder and then walk the perimeter of the clearing, sprinkling them as you go. Returning to the middle of the clearing, you sit in the middle for a time and go through the process of relaxing each muscle in your body until you are almost in a trance. With your body relaxed, your mind has no choice but to follow. You then begin to place the coals in the brazier, one at a time, holding each one for a moment, feeling its shape and texture. With the coals in the brazier, you place the incense among it and ignite the candle and in turn use the candle to light the coals. The scent of the incense, pleasantly sweet, reaches your nostrils. You close your eyes.

After an indeterminate time you reopen your eyes to find the coals glowing a uniform orange. You stare into the coals, timing your breathing and begin to feel words building behind your lips. You accept them as they come and begin to chant. As each word comes forth, you do more than speak it, you cast it far out into the wilds.

Finally the stream of words dries up and exhausted, you rest. When you feel that you can stand, you rise to your feet and walk to the edge of the clearing and place the venison on the ground. You return to where you sat, legs feeling like lead and sit again. Now you wait.

Sometime later, a rustling in the leaves at the edge of the clearing causes your eyes to slowly open. A small slender form perches by the venison and watches you. As you gaze on, it takes a small bite of the venison. It appears to be a weasel or civet of largish size and female. It takes another bite of the venison.

Presently, you "feel" rather than hear, "What is it you want?"

"I want your companionship," you reply.

"And what do you offer in return?"

"I offer long life and fresh red meat without struggle. And I offer my friendship."

"And what do you ask in return?"

"I ask for aid in my endeavors, such as are in your power. I will ask for wisdom, and I will ask for your friendship."

The weasel pauses to consider and takes the opportunity to tear another shred from the venison. Then, "Done."

A smile comes to your face for the first time in hours. You reach out on the link you’ve established. "Thank you. I swear that you will be my dearest companion and I will never put your life in danger."

In reply, the weasel sends, "I am a trickster, just as you are. Your hollow words do not offend me, but neither do I believe them. For such as we, seldom will be the nights when we are not in danger. Nevertheless, I swear to be your dearest companion and to aid you in your hunt."

"But I am not a hunter."

"You will be."
_

The following day passes quickly for you as you begin to grow used to the new presence in your mind. You decide on a name for your friend *He ultimately decided on Tavis* and begin to consider what it will be like to have someone to whom you can never lie be your constant companion. You find your spirits high as your companions and you put your feet on the road to the north. Regardless of what dangers lie ahead, you know that you will never be alone again. And you suspect that it won’t be long before you will wish you were bored again.

*GM Note - I stole a lot of the familiar summoning ritual from the book Jhereg by Stephen Brust. If you haven't read it, you should.*

NEXT: A Momentary Lapse of Reason