Ralts Bloodthorne
First Post
That's right, it's the return of Saduul Cortez, baby!
The campaign went on haitus while the DM served some time in the desert, but now he's back, and last Saturday I vacated the DM seat at a good pause point for my campaign, and he took the reins back.
Now, as you may or may not recall, when we last left Saduul Cortez, he had spent two weeks creating a spellbook out of the flesh of some of the evil-cow men. (Hey, they were dead, they weren't using it!) The monk had slain the champion of the gnolls, and we had our suspicions that the goblin tribe would betray us to the evil cow-men.
In addition, there were ships enroute carrying armed soldiers, more than likely after the gold we had allowed their spies (green winged albatrosses) to see us "burying" in the sand.
Saduul had managed to create Gauntlents of the Fire Spirit for the monk (Basically gave him a +2 to hit and damage, as well as wreathing his hands in a fire version of shocking grasp 3x a day for 10 rounds) as well as ordered his undead minions to help fix the beach colony.
Well, we had our plans, and realized we had less than two weeks until the ships arrived. That was problem number one.
The evil-cow-men, while demoralized and frightened after their god's apparent destruction and the sigil of Vecna the Undying appearing over their pyramid, had retreated to the jungle, but we knew they weren't gone. Problem Two.
Saduul's spellbook had been destroyed, and he had to rewrite it, from memory. Problem Three.
The cleric had gone into a coma, and we feared her God had died. Problem Four.
We decided on taking the fight to the evil human tribe, take care of that problem right off the bat.
The thief and the ranger disappeared into the jungle, loaded up with what few potions we had managed to brew using local ingrediants. Translation: Not much. The druid was our best source of potions, and she was categorizing as many of the plants and herbs as she could.
Saduul had found a leaf, that when mixed with brackenberries, made an acceptable wine. As a bonus, he found he could see spirits, mainly a fire coated leapord who spoke to him.
We began building fortifications, fifty paces into the jungle, and our fighters, veterans of the War of Marque and mean S.O.B.'s, began setting booby traps. Our old armor was gone, rusted our or damaged in the fighting, and we were down to body paint and leaves. Looking good, crew.
First we had a line of small stakes, designed to penetrate boots and break free. The jungle would keep them from using any cavalry against us.
Then a low earthen wall.
Then a wooden wall made out of jungle trees.
In no way shape or form were we going to give the oncoming Imperial Soldiers a chance to fight on open ground. They'd be able to mass and slaughter us. Our only hope was to stay mobile. Strike fast, fade away.
"Come with me, Fire Brother." The monk told Saduul. Curious, he followed him into the jungle, and his path lead us to the blood soaked and fire blasted pyramid in the jungle. THe stripped bones of cow-men, goblins, humans, and kobolds littered the surroundings.
"Yeah, it's full of dead people. So?" Saduul says, looking around.
"Are you not a fire necromancer?"
"D'OH!" Literally hundreds of skeletons, and a huge pyramid. 200 paces on a side and 100 feet tall. What was wrong with me? I was a blood mage, a fire mage, and a necromancer. Before the War of Marque, I would have been a criminal, and hung or burned at the stake. But desperate times makes for strange bedfellows.
We surveyed the area. Good sized, with a large clearing, but so what? The druid could fix that. Providing her little goody two shoes trees didn't try to stomp me into fertilizer. The big question was: Could I bind the pyramid to me?
The monk provided guard while Saduul climbed the pyramid and went into a trance (Which mainly involved drinking a lot of wine and cutting the throats of a couple of monkeys) and surveyed what he saw.
The pyramid existed on both the astral plane, and the ethereal plane.
Unfortunately, so did it's guardian.
A huge cow-man, with twenty eyes, and a huge jaw filled with a hundred hundred fangs, and claws the dripped with the blood of unbelievers, heretics, and bloody sacrifices.
Saduul stood before him, clad in robes of blood, his twisted staff of necromancy and fire held before him.
"What vermin stands before me?"
"Saduul Cortez, and I am your death."
The battle was tough, as the guardian attempted to overwhelm my will and destroy my mind but in the end, I was wounded, but prevailed. The monk watched as rents and welts appeared on Saduul's bare skin, phantom claws tearing at his flesh.
When it was over, Saduul's eyes were covered with a bloody film, yet he could see just fine.
"It is ours." Saduul said, reaching out and petting the blood soaked stones.
Meanwhile, the colonists were working hard, working on the colony on the beach. When we were sure we were not being watched, we'd have groups of five to twelve people go into the jungle, and come back light one. We sent them off at odd times, and had them come back in different orders. Doing this, we managed to hide 50 strong men in the jungle, where they began constructing pit traps, deadfall log traps, swinging tree traps.
We had approximately three times as many huts as we had family groups. In the extra huts, pits were dug and covered, with monkey-poop smeared stakes at the bottom. The druid brought water up from beneath the sand and several huts were filled with quicksand.
Animals were caged, ready for us to sacrifice and use their blood and spirits to infuse our magic and amp up our powers. We had left behind civilization, and would use the only tool available to us: Savage Power.
The ranger and the rogue arrived back soon after nightfall. They had located the evil human village. It was a few hours away through the jungle, but we'd have to be careful, they had a cave system they could fall back to if things got tough.
"Not unless they are fireproof!" Saduul chortled.
We moved through the night, chewing on leaves of a particularly bitter plant to stave off exhaustion. We found their village, where skulls adorned posts and runes of dark gods stillborn in antiquity were carved on the skulls.
Saduul moved to the cave enterance and looked inside. Nobody was in there, and he could see that it dropped quickly downward, burrowing beneath the ground. Still, a strange exhalation came from the cave, the breeze reeking of old blood.
"Have you been here before?" the ranger whispered. I merely glared at her.
The rogue and the ranger slipped into the village and went to work. The old man feasting off of the food in clay pot suddenly found himself being drug into the jungle and throttled by the ranger's iron hard fingers. The rogue cut the throat of the other watcher, and pushed him body face first into the pit full of feces, old food, and worse.
"There is no honor in this." The monk said, shaking his head sorrowfully.
"We'll lie about it in the history books." Saduul replied, nervously glancing at the cave.
The ranger came out of the darkness, her knives bloody.
"What do we do with the infants and children?"
"Kill all of the children older than 3. We take the rest back with us."
"And the women?"
"Kill them."
"You're a butcher, Saduul."
"You're one to talk. Remember Barthold's Gate? I wanted to spare the serfs, you butchered them. You can either kill them with your knife, or I'll burn this village to god's blasted ground."
She grumbled, but vanished into the darkness. Was it just me, or was the breathing from the cave getting heavier?
"Stop breathing on my neck, Fire Brother." I told the monk. He was real close, and his breath was hot against my bare neck and back.
"I am over here." Came his voice from the darkness. Ahead and to my right.
I dove forward, and claws raked my back, drawing blood. I stood up and let loose with a spell, the blood burning away as I used my own vitalis to power the spell.
Before me stood a vast creature, as tall as two men standing on each other's shoulders. It's great head was that of a crocidile, it's body was that of a powerful ape. Rotting fur fell from it's obscene frame, and serrated claws jutted from it's twisted hands. It threw back it's great head, opened that huge maw, and roared at the night sky.
The moon turned red.
"KILL THEM ALL!" the fighter roared out of the darkness, as men came tumbling, naked and holding bronze knives, out of one of the larger huts.
The vast creature stomped a single step forward, a ripple of flame surrounding it's foot.
"Saduul..." the monk said.
"Nobody touches me and lives." I growled. So the savage men had a totem creature, did they? Well, he'd burn like all the others. It roared something in the babbling tongue of the natives, but none of us understood. The silver earrings that allowed us to understand other tongues having rotted in the sea air and the damp.
The monk moved forward, for the attack, and I wrapped him flames to blunt the worst this creature had to offer. One of the women of the tribe ran by screaming, and I grabbed her, slit her throat with my dagger, and used the blood to power my spells.
A lance of fire (fire lightning bolt) took it square in the face, staggering it, and the monk kicked at it's thigh. It answered with a swing of one paw, missing the monk, and tried to grab me with the other paw. I faded back, luckily.
Chanting sounded from behind me, and I turned around and cooked off a burst of firey darts into the first painted savage I saw shaking a stick. The magic missiles, wrapped in fire, burst his chest and he went back with a scream. The fighter lunged out of the pack of savages he was battling and crushed the shaman's head with his axe.
I turned back as the monk leaped from the things outstretched hand to deliver a fire-wreathed kick into the creatures face, bursting an eye. Black blood and maggots poured from wound, and I moved up close and stuck my hand into the blood.
Power.
Taking the backlash, I quickly drew a firey rune of power in the air, and the creature shrieked as pain ripped through it. The monk kicked again, and the other eye popped, but he was unable to keep his balance as it threw its head in pain.
"BURN! EVERYTHING BURN!" Saduul yelled, feeling his blood catch fire in his viens as the powerful blood magic spell caused ripples of fire to emenate from him, burning everything around him for five paces. The creature screamed and backed up a set.
Straight into the barbarians axe. It sunk in with a mighty THUNK and the creature dropped. As we watched, it turned to ashes and collapsed, leaving behind the smell of carrion and blood.
"We check the cave before we leave." the warrior said, leaning on his axe. "If it is large enough, when the Imperials come, the colonists may hide in there while we fight them."
"The Imperium shall not despoil this jeweled shore." Saduul said.
"Aye." the ranger said. "My husband has told me that he would sooner die than allow the iron boot of the Emperor to crush this vedant land."
We all turned and faced the entrance of the cave, where the abomination had strode from mere moments before. We could all hear the sound of breathing coming from its depths, and smell the smell of something unholy within.
"Say, you don't have any relatives that live here?" Asked the rogue.
We were completely unaware that the cleric had woken up, her skin darkened and black, twisted scars that spoke of power and betrayal across her back.
And the symbol of Vecna in her eyes.
The campaign went on haitus while the DM served some time in the desert, but now he's back, and last Saturday I vacated the DM seat at a good pause point for my campaign, and he took the reins back.
Now, as you may or may not recall, when we last left Saduul Cortez, he had spent two weeks creating a spellbook out of the flesh of some of the evil-cow men. (Hey, they were dead, they weren't using it!) The monk had slain the champion of the gnolls, and we had our suspicions that the goblin tribe would betray us to the evil cow-men.
In addition, there were ships enroute carrying armed soldiers, more than likely after the gold we had allowed their spies (green winged albatrosses) to see us "burying" in the sand.
Saduul had managed to create Gauntlents of the Fire Spirit for the monk (Basically gave him a +2 to hit and damage, as well as wreathing his hands in a fire version of shocking grasp 3x a day for 10 rounds) as well as ordered his undead minions to help fix the beach colony.
Well, we had our plans, and realized we had less than two weeks until the ships arrived. That was problem number one.
The evil-cow-men, while demoralized and frightened after their god's apparent destruction and the sigil of Vecna the Undying appearing over their pyramid, had retreated to the jungle, but we knew they weren't gone. Problem Two.
Saduul's spellbook had been destroyed, and he had to rewrite it, from memory. Problem Three.
The cleric had gone into a coma, and we feared her God had died. Problem Four.
We decided on taking the fight to the evil human tribe, take care of that problem right off the bat.
The thief and the ranger disappeared into the jungle, loaded up with what few potions we had managed to brew using local ingrediants. Translation: Not much. The druid was our best source of potions, and she was categorizing as many of the plants and herbs as she could.
Saduul had found a leaf, that when mixed with brackenberries, made an acceptable wine. As a bonus, he found he could see spirits, mainly a fire coated leapord who spoke to him.
We began building fortifications, fifty paces into the jungle, and our fighters, veterans of the War of Marque and mean S.O.B.'s, began setting booby traps. Our old armor was gone, rusted our or damaged in the fighting, and we were down to body paint and leaves. Looking good, crew.
First we had a line of small stakes, designed to penetrate boots and break free. The jungle would keep them from using any cavalry against us.
Then a low earthen wall.
Then a wooden wall made out of jungle trees.
In no way shape or form were we going to give the oncoming Imperial Soldiers a chance to fight on open ground. They'd be able to mass and slaughter us. Our only hope was to stay mobile. Strike fast, fade away.
"Come with me, Fire Brother." The monk told Saduul. Curious, he followed him into the jungle, and his path lead us to the blood soaked and fire blasted pyramid in the jungle. THe stripped bones of cow-men, goblins, humans, and kobolds littered the surroundings.
"Yeah, it's full of dead people. So?" Saduul says, looking around.
"Are you not a fire necromancer?"
"D'OH!" Literally hundreds of skeletons, and a huge pyramid. 200 paces on a side and 100 feet tall. What was wrong with me? I was a blood mage, a fire mage, and a necromancer. Before the War of Marque, I would have been a criminal, and hung or burned at the stake. But desperate times makes for strange bedfellows.
We surveyed the area. Good sized, with a large clearing, but so what? The druid could fix that. Providing her little goody two shoes trees didn't try to stomp me into fertilizer. The big question was: Could I bind the pyramid to me?
The monk provided guard while Saduul climbed the pyramid and went into a trance (Which mainly involved drinking a lot of wine and cutting the throats of a couple of monkeys) and surveyed what he saw.
The pyramid existed on both the astral plane, and the ethereal plane.
Unfortunately, so did it's guardian.
A huge cow-man, with twenty eyes, and a huge jaw filled with a hundred hundred fangs, and claws the dripped with the blood of unbelievers, heretics, and bloody sacrifices.
Saduul stood before him, clad in robes of blood, his twisted staff of necromancy and fire held before him.
"What vermin stands before me?"
"Saduul Cortez, and I am your death."
The battle was tough, as the guardian attempted to overwhelm my will and destroy my mind but in the end, I was wounded, but prevailed. The monk watched as rents and welts appeared on Saduul's bare skin, phantom claws tearing at his flesh.
When it was over, Saduul's eyes were covered with a bloody film, yet he could see just fine.
"It is ours." Saduul said, reaching out and petting the blood soaked stones.
Meanwhile, the colonists were working hard, working on the colony on the beach. When we were sure we were not being watched, we'd have groups of five to twelve people go into the jungle, and come back light one. We sent them off at odd times, and had them come back in different orders. Doing this, we managed to hide 50 strong men in the jungle, where they began constructing pit traps, deadfall log traps, swinging tree traps.
We had approximately three times as many huts as we had family groups. In the extra huts, pits were dug and covered, with monkey-poop smeared stakes at the bottom. The druid brought water up from beneath the sand and several huts were filled with quicksand.
Animals were caged, ready for us to sacrifice and use their blood and spirits to infuse our magic and amp up our powers. We had left behind civilization, and would use the only tool available to us: Savage Power.
The ranger and the rogue arrived back soon after nightfall. They had located the evil human village. It was a few hours away through the jungle, but we'd have to be careful, they had a cave system they could fall back to if things got tough.
"Not unless they are fireproof!" Saduul chortled.
We moved through the night, chewing on leaves of a particularly bitter plant to stave off exhaustion. We found their village, where skulls adorned posts and runes of dark gods stillborn in antiquity were carved on the skulls.
Saduul moved to the cave enterance and looked inside. Nobody was in there, and he could see that it dropped quickly downward, burrowing beneath the ground. Still, a strange exhalation came from the cave, the breeze reeking of old blood.
"Have you been here before?" the ranger whispered. I merely glared at her.
The rogue and the ranger slipped into the village and went to work. The old man feasting off of the food in clay pot suddenly found himself being drug into the jungle and throttled by the ranger's iron hard fingers. The rogue cut the throat of the other watcher, and pushed him body face first into the pit full of feces, old food, and worse.
"There is no honor in this." The monk said, shaking his head sorrowfully.
"We'll lie about it in the history books." Saduul replied, nervously glancing at the cave.
The ranger came out of the darkness, her knives bloody.
"What do we do with the infants and children?"
"Kill all of the children older than 3. We take the rest back with us."
"And the women?"
"Kill them."
"You're a butcher, Saduul."
"You're one to talk. Remember Barthold's Gate? I wanted to spare the serfs, you butchered them. You can either kill them with your knife, or I'll burn this village to god's blasted ground."
She grumbled, but vanished into the darkness. Was it just me, or was the breathing from the cave getting heavier?
"Stop breathing on my neck, Fire Brother." I told the monk. He was real close, and his breath was hot against my bare neck and back.
"I am over here." Came his voice from the darkness. Ahead and to my right.
I dove forward, and claws raked my back, drawing blood. I stood up and let loose with a spell, the blood burning away as I used my own vitalis to power the spell.
Before me stood a vast creature, as tall as two men standing on each other's shoulders. It's great head was that of a crocidile, it's body was that of a powerful ape. Rotting fur fell from it's obscene frame, and serrated claws jutted from it's twisted hands. It threw back it's great head, opened that huge maw, and roared at the night sky.
The moon turned red.
"KILL THEM ALL!" the fighter roared out of the darkness, as men came tumbling, naked and holding bronze knives, out of one of the larger huts.
The vast creature stomped a single step forward, a ripple of flame surrounding it's foot.
"Saduul..." the monk said.
"Nobody touches me and lives." I growled. So the savage men had a totem creature, did they? Well, he'd burn like all the others. It roared something in the babbling tongue of the natives, but none of us understood. The silver earrings that allowed us to understand other tongues having rotted in the sea air and the damp.
The monk moved forward, for the attack, and I wrapped him flames to blunt the worst this creature had to offer. One of the women of the tribe ran by screaming, and I grabbed her, slit her throat with my dagger, and used the blood to power my spells.
A lance of fire (fire lightning bolt) took it square in the face, staggering it, and the monk kicked at it's thigh. It answered with a swing of one paw, missing the monk, and tried to grab me with the other paw. I faded back, luckily.
Chanting sounded from behind me, and I turned around and cooked off a burst of firey darts into the first painted savage I saw shaking a stick. The magic missiles, wrapped in fire, burst his chest and he went back with a scream. The fighter lunged out of the pack of savages he was battling and crushed the shaman's head with his axe.
I turned back as the monk leaped from the things outstretched hand to deliver a fire-wreathed kick into the creatures face, bursting an eye. Black blood and maggots poured from wound, and I moved up close and stuck my hand into the blood.
Power.
Taking the backlash, I quickly drew a firey rune of power in the air, and the creature shrieked as pain ripped through it. The monk kicked again, and the other eye popped, but he was unable to keep his balance as it threw its head in pain.
"BURN! EVERYTHING BURN!" Saduul yelled, feeling his blood catch fire in his viens as the powerful blood magic spell caused ripples of fire to emenate from him, burning everything around him for five paces. The creature screamed and backed up a set.
Straight into the barbarians axe. It sunk in with a mighty THUNK and the creature dropped. As we watched, it turned to ashes and collapsed, leaving behind the smell of carrion and blood.
"We check the cave before we leave." the warrior said, leaning on his axe. "If it is large enough, when the Imperials come, the colonists may hide in there while we fight them."
"The Imperium shall not despoil this jeweled shore." Saduul said.
"Aye." the ranger said. "My husband has told me that he would sooner die than allow the iron boot of the Emperor to crush this vedant land."
We all turned and faced the entrance of the cave, where the abomination had strode from mere moments before. We could all hear the sound of breathing coming from its depths, and smell the smell of something unholy within.
"Say, you don't have any relatives that live here?" Asked the rogue.
We were completely unaware that the cleric had woken up, her skin darkened and black, twisted scars that spoke of power and betrayal across her back.
And the symbol of Vecna in her eyes.
!
