happy birthday, ciaran!
Session #11 – “Strange Brew” (part 2 of 2)
Telémahkos held Tymon back from the doorway and ducked to one side, as Bleys came forward being led by Rudwilla, who looked annoyed, putting her fists to her hips as she stood in the doorway in her leather apron.
“Bruggah! You know you are early!” She yelled at the chief of the Blood-Eye with confidence. The bugbear stepped forward, and it was suddenly clear from his stagger that he was more than a little drunk. His lieutenants seemed a bit tipsy as well.
“Bruggah get brew when Bruggah want!” The chief demanded, his broken common made harder to understand by his drunken slurring. “Bruggah know! Bruggah decide! Bruggah Chief!”
“It is not ready,” Rudwilla replied with disdain. “So either wait, or go ahead and attack and never get it again, no matter what happens!”
Bruggah cried out with great anger, and shook his morningstar above his head, but then lowering it to the ground just as suddenly with a loud belch, he said, “Bruggah wait…” He sat down to chug the last of what was left in his skin.
Satisfied with herself, Rudwilla turned and went back to her work. “Aren’t you going to invite him in to watch?” Timotheus asked her, a smile on his face.
“No!” Rudwilla did not even look at him.
“Why aren’t we just getting rid of this bugbear problem for them again?” Timotheus asked Bleys.
“These bugbears act as a buffer between these lands and worse monsters beyond their hill,” the watch-mage explained.
“BRUGGAH! JASH APSHAI JASH SPISHOO LOXXO GUND!” (1) The voice came from outside, to the left of the doorway on the other side of the small island from where the horses were tethered. “JASH APSHAI ORMUGAH TASH!”
Suddenly, from all directions about the front of the island there rose large desiccated ants, each about five feet long. Their shells were cracked and empty of flesh, their pincers sharp and bony. They began to converge on Bruggah, who was still squinting trying to get a view of who had called out to him in the goblin tongue, not having bothered to get up out of the muck yet. “Ish Mulcrod!” Bruggah said.
“Rudwilla! We are looking to you to know if we should get involved!” Telémahkos called to the witch, who had come back to the door to see what was going on.
She shrugged, “If Bruggah is killed there is no telling what will happen to the political situation…”
“Oh f*ck this!” Timotheus swore, and ran out to intercept one of the skeletal giant ants, and cracked the shell of one with his morningstar.
“Bruggah! I offer you aid on behalf of the Ray-Ree, should you choose to accept it!” Bleys called as he hurried out of the door, even as Laarus took his place there. Bleys moved to his right and was suddenly started by a figure in his peripheral vision. He turned in time to see an ugly humanoid with a look that made no doubt he was of Hezra’s brood. The half-orc smiled, as he slapped the horses, now untied, crying out “HEE-YAH!” to send them into the chaos of the battle in fear. Bleys stumbled back to avoid the possible stampede, even as Falco stepped beside him to let an arrow loose at the half-orc, missing. The half-breed snickered and drew back towards a tree in one corner of Rudwilla’s property.
“Anhur! Make me your good right arm!” Victoria prayed for
bull’s strength as she hobbled out the door, spear in hand.
Hearing the militant, the watch-mage called to her, “Victoria! Hezra’s last son awaits over here!”
“Dunlevey! You stay with Rudwilla. Tymon, help Bleys!” Telémahkos gave orders as he hurried out among the horses, hoping to grab his own and have the undead ants ignore him. Dunlevey went back into the cottage to stand by in case anyone got through, while Tymon loaded his crossbow and moved towards Bleys. Markos joined Dunlevey, crossbow in hand, having not had a chance to prepare spells.
It was clear that the bugbears’ drunkenness would interfere with their prowess, as they moved with exaggerated anger, breathing heavy as their morningstars struck the muddy ground more often than their ant targets.
“What in the
Nine Hells is going on?” Timotheus called out to no one in particular as he crushed the body of one of the undead ants. He started jogging towards another, but taking a roundabout way to look around for where the other goblin voice has issued from. Suddenly, he felt the tingle of magic washing over him, as his limbs were momentarily brushed numb, but he shook it off. “Magic! Who the f*ck did that?” He looked around wildly.
“May
Ra calm the hearts of these steeds!” Laarus chanted, casting a spell, which caused most of the horses to immediately slow down, as their fear fled. Telémahkos leapt atop his own, hoping to get a better vantage point to spot whoever had summoned the undead, and had tried to cast a spell on Timotheus. Seeing that the horses, were now going to move away from the combat as quickly as possible without panicking, Laarus of Ra grabbed hold of his holy symbol and called out to his god, “Ra! Smite these creatures with your holy light!”
Light exploded from Laarus’ symbol, bursting like a wave in all directions. The three bugbears grunted their drunken complaint at the light, but three of the ants crumbled to dust as the light washed over them. The
priest of Ra continued to glow, a hemisphere of daylight surrounding him.
Meanwhile Victoria of Anhur had hurried around the corner of the cottage as fast as she could despite her lingering wound and the weight of her armor. Spotting the retreating half-orc, she called after him in challenge. “You! Where is your bitch of a mother?”
The son of Hezra banged his axe on his shield, roaring for her to come towards him, and to punctuate his summons, he hefted the axe at her. Victoria felt the weight of the axe slam into her chest, the worst of the blow absorbed by her armor, but it was still enough to disrupt the spell she had started to cast.
“I won’t fall for your trying to get me close to the tree and whatever trick you have in mind,” Victoria replied, and she called to
Anhur to grant her a
spiritual weapon that would fight at a distance. A glowing spear appeared hovering in the air next to the half-orc. It thrust forward, but he raised his shield in time as he drew his battle-axe.
From behind the tree appeared a reddish-brown furred wolf and it charged at Victoria, acrid stream rising off its body. Falco let an arrow fly at the wolf but it missed, while Tymon let a crossbow bolt go at the half-orc, nicking him, as he stepped into it to avoid an arrow from Bleys, who like Markos was without spells.
The young mage was at the doorway of the cottage, watching the melee. Kermit has slipped out past him on Duckhunter to attack one of the ants. Markos called back to Dunlevey. “Block the doorway so no one unseen can come in and threaten Rudwilla.” And with that he started to jog towards the left of the house to join the fight against the wolf and the half-orc, crossbow in hand.
Telémahkos tried to ride down one of the undead ants, but failed to compensate for how low to the ground it was and missed. Catching sight of Timotheus, he turned the horse in that direction. The Briareus cousin was charging towards another bugbear that had sent a javelin flying at Tim’s back as he tried to help Bruggah and his lieutenants with the ants.
This bugbear stood at the edge of the island, a few feet from the mucky water of the moors, a few feet deep at first step. He wore a leather tunic and his brown fur was dyed black. About his neck was an elaborate necklace made of bones encrusted with precious gems. He held a morningstar in one hand, and as Timotheus approached he could see the other was twisted and black, ending in an ugly, but powerful looking pincer. He moved around deftly as Timotheus charged, and they circled each other.
“There’s a bugbear shaman over here!” Telémahkos cried out as he rode to join his cousin, and Laarus began to walk with purpose in that direction.
“
GOONDA LOXXO! the bugbear shaman, Mulcrod, chanted as he stepped away from Tim, and he began to grow in height and girth. In less than a moment, he was over thirteen feet tall and his morningstar was nearly as long as Timotheus was tall.
“Tim! We gotta hurry up and kill this thing!” Telémahkos cried as he rode by, stabbing at Mulcrod with his lance, but the bugbear knocked the weapon off-line with his own.
“I’m working on it!” Tim swung his flail, but each time the bugbear stepped out of the way with a snarl. With one step, the shaman flicked his morningstar across his body to the right, and caught Timotheus full on in the face; only the fact that the bastard-born warrior wore a helmet protected him getting a spike in the skull. Driven to the ground, he looked up in time to see Mulcrod’s pincer grab him tightly about the neck. Timotheus coughed and pulled himself up, swinging out as he stood.
“I’m gonna take it out on your kneecaps!” Timotheus coughed, as he stuck with a bone-crunching blow to Mulcrod’s leg. This exchange gave Telémahkos time and room to spin his horse around and come in from the water side and flank the bugbear shaman, but the goblin seemed an adept warrior, and continued to knock away or avoid his blows.
“Tymon! Falco! Shoot the wolf!” Bleys let an arrow go at the half-orc, who was drawing his battle-axe, but the son of Hezra raised his shield blocking the arrow. Unfortunately for him, this left him momentarily open for Victoria’s spiritual weapon, and he cried out as it drew blood. Sensing an opening, Falco fired at the half-orc as well, but missed.
“Falco didn’t listen! Falco didn’t listen!” Tymon tattled in a whiny voice as his own bolt missed the wolf he was instructed to aim at. The wolf changed directions and went for the arriving Markos, nipping at his ankle, as the young mage pulled away with fear on his face. It snapped at him again as he put distance between himself and the fiendish animal.
Bleys let another arrow fly at the half-orc, and it barked with pain and anger, jogging around to the other side of the large tree in that corner of the small island. Victoria of Anhur wasted no time in having the
spiritual spear move over and attack the wolf, striking it deep to draw steaming blood that look like smelt copper.
It bit at the militant, but its teeth could not get a good grip around her greaves.
Unable to watch the battle and not take part, Dunlevey yelled to the retreating Markos to watch the doorway into the cottage while he ran at the wolf, great sword in both his hands. He chopped down, cleaving it in the back, and it disappeared with ‘pop’ and a puff of smoke.
“Many thanks, Dunlevey,” Victoria said with a fatigued sigh.
As Bruggah finally smashed one of the undead ants, allowing him to step over to aid his lieutenants, Telémahkos’ horse was whinnying in despair, as Mulcrod’s morningstar caught it on the flank.
“You goblin bastard!” Telémahkos swore, pulling his war-trained horse away.
Mulcrod grunted as he spun around to deal with Timotheus, who had used the momentary diversion to get in a solid blow on the bugbear’s hip. Tim reared back so the shaman kept moving, swinging his morningstar at the horse again, missing. However, when Telémahkos turned his horse, he left his flank open and he felt the tight pinch of Mulcord’s twisted pincer on his leg and he cried out in agony as he felt flesh tear.
“
Dosh crah’sh Apshai bloondich art et et coss!” Mulcrod taunted him, though Telémahkos could only make out a few words (2), as he leaned over on his horse in agony, feeling blood pour down his leg. Thankfully, Laarus finally made the long way around the fray and was able to reach up and heal Telémahkos as he called out to Ra.
“Dunlevey! Go aid Timotheus,” Bleys commanded, as he moved to a position to shoot at the now fleeing half-orc. His arrow and Tymon’s final bolt both missed as the son of Hezra leapt into the brush, and Dunlevey ran across the melee in time to see Bruggah and his lieutenants destroy the last two remaining ants, and Timotheus smash Mulcrod in the face with his flail. The shaman showed fear for the first time, and backed away.
Bruggah, Chief of the Blood-Eye Bugbears, walked towards the cottage door with what passed for sober purpose suffering a few wounds from giant ant bites.
“Bruggah take brew now!” he said.
“The brew is not ready,” Markos gulped, being the only one between the brutish drunken hairy goblin and the inside of Rudwilla’s hovel. He pointed to his left. “There are still combatants to be dealt with.”
“Little boy! Bruggah will add you to his pen to go with girl,” Bruggah said. “Now Rudwilla give brew to Bruggah!”
“Hold Bruggah!” Victoria said sternly, limping over to block the doorway as well. “You will get your brew in due time…”
Kull and Grug, the bugbear lieutenants, walked over to stand at either side of their chief.
Mulcrod stepped back to avoid another blow from Timotheus, and right into the point of Telie’s thrusting lance. The bugbear shaman dropped unconscious, immediately aspirating swamp water.
“Role call!” Victoria called out. “Where is everybody?”
“All clear!” Timotheus said, lifting Mulcrod’s head out of the water to slit the monster’s throat.
“Hezra and her son got away again,” Bleys complained as he came around the cottage.
Seeing the fight was done, Bruggah rethought his aggressiveness and went over to see Mulcrod’s body, passing Timotheus going in the other direction. As Telémahkos, who had dismounted, turned the corpse over, Bruggah leaned over and tore the jeweled necklace from the shaman.
“Mulcrod dark insect god weak!” he said.
It took another three hours before the brew was ready, but Bruggah waited with the occasional pitiful grunt. In that time, Timotheus expressed his dismay when Markos and Victoria mentioned Bruggah’s reference to his ‘girl kept in a pen’.
“If the bugbear numbers are small enough we should attack them,” Timotheus suggested. “At least to free the girl, even if we do not kill them all in order for them to still act as a buffer…”
When asked, Rudwilla said that she thought the girl was Hezra’s daughter, though she would not be a girl anymore, as she was carried away over twenty years ago in the time when the deal was first made with the bugbear chieftain.
“Hezra’s daughter?” Telémahkos scoffed. “Why risk our lives to rescue her if she might try to kill us herself?” He shook his head.
Finally, Timotheus helped Rudwilla pour the brew into eight huge skins that were then handed over to Bruggah and his lieutenants.
“Bruggah return before winter for more brew… Double batch!” the bugbear chieftain said by way of good-bye, right after sampling the brew right away and burping happily. He allowed his lieutenants the slightest taste each. And with that, they left.
Rudwilla thanks the young nobles for their help by awarding them a large clay jar filled with the equivalent of seven
potions of cure light wounds. Timotheus was happy to drain some flasks of foul spirits (by drinking them) to make room for the potions, so they might be divided among the group.
“Do we have to worry about the witch returning?” Markos asked Rudwilla, but the corpulent witch shook her head.
“Not any time soon,” she said. “My guess at what happened was that she informed Mulcrod the shaman about the absence of the Ray-Ree warriors, perhaps knowing somehow that that he planned to challenge Bruggah for leadership of the tribe, and daring him to come command more brew was a way of doing so. Mulcrod probably figured he could take Bruggah by surprise far from the rest of the Blood-Eye, not expecting a group of adventurers to be involved. Know Hezra, she probably did not tell him, played down your prowess, or accepted your ruse at face value, and did not know of your involvement until they came here. Regardless, now that most of her sons are dead and her ally is too, she should not be returning until she has had time and opportunity to hatch some other plan…”
Satisfied by the response, the signers of the Charter of Schiereiland rode back to the Ray-Ree village that afternoon.
“It would explain Hezra’s resentment of the Ray-Ree and Rudwilla if they did nothing to help the girl when Bruggah took her, and continued to exchange this brew for peace,” Timotheus said as they rode.
“Gifted, not exchanged… The Ray-Ree do not purchase anything… Please try to remember,” Bleys said. “We can ill-afford to insult our hosts.”
“If Hezra’s sins must be paid for by her daughter, then so be it,” Victoria said. “Ever have children had to bear the sins of the parents. It is the will of the gods that it should happen that way.”
Timotheus rolled his eyes.
They had dinner with the Ray-Ree that night, though the fare was much leaner than the time before. Scraps of aurochs meat crusted with salt in some flavorless unidentifiable yellow mush. Two old women clucked over Timotheus in their bizarre tongue, looking at the whites of his eyes and touching his forehead. He smiled and shooed them away, drinking many cups of the fermented goat’s milk.
Afterwards, they met with Admentus in the meeting hut, and drank more of the stuff. He thanked them for their aid and reiterated that the party was allowed to stay as long as they needed and may leave their horses here while they explored the King Stones.
Timotheus asked about Hezra’s daughter.
“She was orc-blooded too, the first of Hezra’s foul brood,” Admentus said. “She lived on the outskirts of the village until she was seven or eight summers old…”
“Do you care to have her rescued?” Markos asked.
Admentus’ brow furrowed. “Rescue here? It matters not to us, but I doubt taking her from that life now would be a
rescue…”
“Is that enough for you?” Markos turned to Timotheus smarmily.
Timotheus nodded.
“We would like to ask you more about the Moor Tombs,” Bleys said to the First Elder, but it appeared that Admentus knew very little of them, and recommended visiting the monk, Brother Cineas at the Mounds of the Ray-Ree.
At their own camp made beside a shack set aside for them, they fell to discussing their next move. Bleys Winter wanted to explore the Moor Tomb and look into the retrieval of the amulet, and Laarus and Victoria agreed.
Telémahkos was against this, fearing the Moor Tomb would be too dangerous, having avoided being penetrated all these centuries. Markos felt ambivalent about the tomb and was more curious about the ‘
box of wands’, and so voted to go to the King Stones.
Timotheus thought it over. “At the very least we should visit Brother Cineas and see what he has to say about the moor tombs before we make our final decision…”
Bleys, Victoria and Laarus agreed to this compromise.
“As much as I want to go kill a bunch of goblins and I don’t like the idea of some trapped tombs, retrieving the amulet is probably more important, and the more pious thing to do…” Timotheus added.
Telémahkos sighed and glared at Tim, “Can I talk to you privately for a moment?” He took his cousin to just out beyond the doorway of the shack, as the others saw to their things and unrolled blankets and bedrolls. Bleys, however, paused by the doorway and noticed Telémahkos standing with a hand way up on his tall cousin’s drooping shoulder. The blond Briareus was punctuating his points against going to visit the monk.
“All we need is for some crazy monk hermit to mention something that will get the priests all up and arms and then they decide we
have to go to these tombs… Tombs I have no desire of seeing now that I have once again been so well reminded of my own mortality…” he said, fervently. “Laarus is a zealot, and we have to consider that when making these decisions… We might learn that going there is certain death and yet they will feel the need to go there all the more because of something said by the monk… We have to keep these scenarios in mind!”
Timotheus sighed and walked back into the shack. “I change my vote… Let’s just go to the King Stones…”
“What? Are you not your own man?” Bleys said, his disdain for Timotheus evident on his usually placid face.
“I… Yes, I am…”
“It certainly doesn’t seem like it, if your cousin can tell you to change your vote and so you simply do,” Bleys replied.
“He changed his mind of his own accord,” Telémahkos said, walking in with a smile.
“Oh fine! We’ll go to the Mounds…” Timotheus threw his hands in the air, acquiescing once again.
End of Session #11
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Notes:
(1) The voice called out something along the lines of “The dark insect god will swarm over and devour your weak corpse, Bruggah!”
(2) Telémahkos understands the hobgoblin tongue, and thus can make out a few words of the more primitive goblin dialect.