Seldarn Empire - The Mega-Module Jam

[arwink]

Tuesday, August 22nd, 508 AF, Continued

Up the stairs Warwind, Calmert and Durhon hear Yip's cry of rage as he attacks.

"Trouble," Durhon grunts, and starts sprinting down the stairs. It takes a few second for the others to catch onto what's happening, but they too charge down the stairwell, Calmert taking the steps three at a time.

The cleric arrives on the bottom step just in time to see the three gnolls move to surround Yip. One is still staggering, it's leg sitting at an odd angle, but the other two flank the small monk and strike out. Yip's response is a fluid dodge, allowing him to slide beneath both blades before lashing out at the wounded gnoll before him. The monks first blow hammers into gnolls other knee, producing a small pop as the cartlidge snaps. The gnoll lurches sideways, screaming in pain, but Yip is already there. Leaping nearly three feet off the ground, the Kobold connects with the gnolls face with a spinning backfist.

Calmert watches in sick fascination as the Gnolls head snaps backwards, blood tracing an arc in the air before splattering against the armored figure.

"Heeiroooonooussss," the cleric screams, then charges forward. His spare sword slices through gnollish armor, but seems to do little more than enrage the beast. It does draw the armored figures attention, however, and he hears a feminine voice chanting the words of spell through the black helm. Calmert soon feels the chilling presence of a magical fear settling over his heart.

"I am the arm of Heironous," Calmert chants softly. "I fear nothing while I act in his service."
For a moment his legs tremble beneath him, threatening to carrying him away from the fight, but his devotion makes him stronger than the magic.

Warwind and Durhon are fast behind Calmert, and they hit the room running. Durhon charges forward with his axe, barreling forward to hit the second gnoll with a glancing blow.

"Spellcaster," Calmert yells to the others. They nod, and the front line of Yip, Durhon and the cleric try to push past the two remaining gnolls to engage the armored leader. Warwind simply lets loose with his bow, shooting past his friends to take down the crossbow weilding human behind them.

The gnolls prove difficult to move, their axes drawing blood from both Calmert and Durhon as they seek to stop the adventurers from advancing. Yip succeeds in slipping past, somersaulting through a gap in their defensive line to stun the armored figure with a blow that makes its armor ring out like a bell. The sound distracts the gnolls, leaving one open for Durhon's axe strike. When the second creature howls in rage, lurching past Calmert to strike the dwarf, Warwind neatly picks it off with an arrow shot that catches it in the eye.

As the armored figure regains its senses, it lets out a sharp curse at the death of its guards. The crossbow is dropped in favor of a morning star that catches Yip on the upper shoulder, spinning him around once before he regains his balance. It's a short lived show of defiance, however, and the combined force of Durhon and Calmerts blows soon drop it to the ground.

Everyone stands at the ready, waiting for more attackers, but it seems that the defenses were focused more on the upper part of the ruin, leaving only a token force at the lower entrance. Nothing comes out of the darkness, and all they hear is the slow drip of water hitting the flagstones.

"Well," Durhon grumbles. "That was invigorating."
He takes a moment to look at the dead bodies, raising an eyebrow when he seens the simple efficiency with which Yip disabled the first gnoll.
"Ye know Knobly, sometime it's worth keeping you around."
He breaks out in a wide grin, then starts sorting through the gnolls possesions in search of gold and weapons.

 

[Khynal]

Yip vs. three Gnolls and a Human. This can't end well. . .

Not for the gnolls' knees!

 

[arwink]

Tuesday, August 22nd, 508 AF, Continued

Teh bodies contain little of value, although another small collection of unfamiliar holy symbols quickly confirms that they belong to the same cult as the dead bodies in the dragon's lair.

"Slim pickings," Durhon grumbles as he sorts through the bodies, throwing thin pouches at worthwile daggers to one side for Warwind to check.

Calmert and Yip do a quick scout of the area, discovering that the room is larger than they originally thought and dissappears into the distance. Yip makes out several shadowy archways, like catacombs or crypt entrances, down one long hallway and there are several doors that sit ominously waiting to be opened. Whatever was built down here, it's larger than the building above.

"Never a good sign," Calmert mutters to himself as he searches. "People who build underground have something to hide."
Yip just scampers from door to door, pressing his ear against them to listen for noise on the other side.

He finds it on a door close to the stairs, where he can hear the sound of someone muttering to themselves on the far side. YIp motions for everyone to keep quiet, and Durhon pauses mid-loot to place a hand on the haft of his axe.

Yip reaches forward to push at the door, hoping to surprise whatevers on the other side. As the door swings open, it becomes obvious that he's failed - a small flurry of magic missiles thundering into his chest. The kobold is thrown back by the blast of magic, although he lands cat-like on his feet with a small Mew of pain.

"Get back," a voice screams from the room. "I'll not be taken alive by dark-spawn like you."

Yip hisses in anger, his tail swishing from side to side, but Durhon and Calmert are quick to restrain him.

"An who said anythin' about killin' ye?" Durhon asks loudly. "Although if ye spring another one of those there spells on us, I may just let me scaly friend snack on yer leg bones."

A small tabby cat walks out of the room, seeming to move with a restrained caution. It takes a moment to stare at all four of the adventurers, then mews loudly to summon a middle-aged man in grubby robes.

"You're not cultists?" the stranger asks.
"We're soldiers," Calmert explains simply. "Or we were. I guess you'd call us freelance do-gooders these days."
"Do-gooder?" Durhon asks, his voice slightly confused. Warwind echoes his sentiment at the same time, although his focus is on the word "Free." Calmert ignores them both.
"I'm Calmert, priests of Heironous, while this is Warwind Treehugger, Durhon and Yip."

"Boccob be praised," the stranger says, emerging cautiosly. "My name is Spugnoir. I...I'm a potion maker in Hommlet, but I've spent years poking around in these ruins in my spare time. Late last week I came out to look around, and I found the place over-run with cultists and a dragon. I've been trapped in that room ever since, hiding in the hopes I could find some method of escape."

"Why not blast them?" Durhon asks. His eyes narrow as he glances at Yip's chest, focusing on the scorched cloth and scales.

"I tried to fight my way past the dragon," Spugnoir says appologetically. "I used most of my spells in teh attempt, without success. The spell I used on your companion was my last resort. I should be cursed for a fool forever after coming out here without a spellbook."

"Well, we be lookin' for more cultists," Durhon says. "Ye can either tag along or head home, I don't really care."

A grimace of pain crosses Spugnoir's face.

"I'll come," he says. "I don't fancy my chances sneaking past the dragon."

"The dragon's dead," Durhon sighs. "Me and knobbly here killed it a few days back."

Spugnoir blinks for a few moments, taken aback by the statement.
"Then you have my thanks," he says, "And I'd best be on my way. I left my daughter in charge of my store, and she'd be frantic with worry by now. If you're ever in town and in need of potions, come see me. I promise I'll be more than willing to give you a good price to show my gratitude."

"A pleasure," Calmert says. He spots Warwind about to start speaking, no doubt ready to ask exactly how large a discount Spugnoir is speaking of, and the cleric stomps hard on the elfs toes. "I wish you a safe journey home."

Spugnoir rushes towards the stairs, his familiar hot on his heels. Durhon is already looking over the gnolls meager loot as Yip searches out Spugnoir's hiding spot - a small stock room still filled with ancient crates.

"Yip think we should rest," he calls through the door. "Yip hurt, Elf-mage need spells, Cleric need healing."
"That room be safe enough?" Durhon asks. Yip chirps an affirmative, and everyone hurries in.

"Two man watches," Durhon reminds them as they settle in. "Keep it quiet, and keep yer eyes on that door."

 

[Lela]

Kobald's mew? I would think they'd bark. . .

But mewing does sound cooler. . .

 

[arwink]

Kobald's mew? I would think they'd bark. . .

But mewing does sound cooler. . .

I run on the theory that anything small and sneaky mews when it's hurts for some reason. Yip is certainly small and sneaky, and he was definately hurt there, so...

Wednesday, August 23rd, the Wee Hours of the Morning...

Yip stands watch, perched on one of the smaller crates where he can stare at the wall. The burnt patches of scale are still hurting, despite Calmert's attempts at healing, and he has to concentrate to keep his mind from wandering.

Behind him, Durhon sits by the fire. The dwarf is still dressed in his imperial issue breastplate, although it is covered in a score of cuts and battered marks since his arrival in Hommlet. For a few moment's Yip suggests cleaning it, but he disregards the idea when he imagines Durhon's reaction.

Then he hears the chanting outside. Yip yelps softly to catch Durhon's attention, waving a paw for the dwarf to remain quiet. Durhon nods once, then motions for Yip to move forward and listen at the door.

On the far side he can hear someone moving, as well as the soft chanting of someone casting a spell. Yip frowns as he listens, waiting for the sounds to come closer, but they don't. With a shrug he backs away from the door, gently nudging the sleeping Warwind and Calmert as he goes past.

"People moving," Yip hisses softly. "Casting spell. Not coming this way."
"How far?" Calmert asks. Yip shrugs.
"Not know, but close. Close enough to hear snoring."

Everyone stays awake for a time, listening to the sounds on the far side of the door. It goes on for the better part of an hour, the rusting sound of people moving, casting spells and giving orders, then it stops.

"Think they're gone?" Warwind asks. No-one has an answer.
"Clean up crew?" Durhon suggests.
"Or they made a break for it with the dragon dead," Calmert says. Everyone pauses to think about this.
"Either way, I don't think we're going anywhere until morning," Calmert decides eventually. "Yips hurt, and neither of us have spells. We keep watch and sleep light, weapons close. Hopefully, they wont be getting any closer."
"An what if they're waitin' for that?" Durhon demands.
"Then we check," Calmert says simply. "Yip can try and peak through the door, scout things out if no-ones there."

Yip doesn't even wait to be ask, just lets out a chirping sigh and creeps towards the door. He moves as silently as a cat, his feet barely leaving a mark on the dusty floor, and he manages to coax the door open by the barest slither without making a noise.

And he almost gags on the stench that hits him. He can barely describe the intensity of it, but it reminds him of days spent cleaning up the dead after battle, when the rain has fallen for a week and the sun has left them bloated. His stomach rolls over on itself, but he manges to hold his breeth and peek through.

There are corpses on the other side. Not just the bodies of the gnolls and the woman, but decaying bodies with the skin stretched tight over sinewy limbs and rotting flesh still lingering on their bones. The Beastmen had used the creatures in their wars, shamens and witch doctors animating them from the dead. Ghouls and ghasts, with magically animated zombies made from the freshly slain. All of them seeming to be waiting for the door to open, intruders to enter the room. Yip slides the door shut, then pushes a makeshift barricade of crates and boxes in front of it as best he can.

"What's yer problem?" Durhon asks, watching the kobolds frantic response.
"Undead," Yip hisses. "Many undead."
"Skeletons and zombies?" Durhon asks.
Yip shakes his head, another wave of revulsion coming over him when he remembers the ghasts stench. Durhon and Calmert both see him gag, and realise what he's talking about.

"I'll be gettin' that box," Durhon says, pointing at a large crate that's almost as big as he is. "You take those smaller ones there. If we ken hold 'em off till mornin', we'll take 'em at full strength."
Calmert nods, already dragging at the boxes as Durhon makes his suggestion.

"They're just undead?" Warwind says sleepily in the background. "What's the big deal? "Just let Calmert channel Heironous power at them and we can go back to sleep."

Everyone waits a few moments for the reality to sink in, then Warwind is on his feet and helping Calmert with his boxes.

"Sorry," the elf says. "Still half asleep. Hold them off, sleep, take them at full strength in the morning. Right. Lets do it."

 

[Lela]

Looks like they chirp too. I'll keep that in mind for later.

Hay, come to think of it, I've been invited to a priate game later tonight. Perhaps I'll play a Yip. Though it might not be a monk, the concept is still there. Any ideas?

 

[arwink]

Looks like they chirp too. I'll keep that in mind for later.

Hay, come to think of it, I've been invited to a priate game later tonight. Perhaps I'll play a Yip. Though it might not be a monk, the concept is still there. Any ideas?

Play a rogue. That's primarily what the Copperheads Yip does, and it works pretty well. The sneak attacks make up for the lack of strength (which is a big hit, -4 is no classes friend). Multiclassing a Monk/sorcerer may also be worth it, and certainly it looks like one of the Yips will pick up Sorcerer levels sooner or later.

Keep in mind that your the combination of two or three different types of animals - part dog, part lizard, part whatever else the DM decides is koboldish. You don't walk anywhere, you scamper. Odds are your command of common is dominated by the Kobold's basis in draconic, which I've always seen as having a very different syntax that places the speaking as the centre of every sentence (after all, what's more important to a dragon than a dragon?).

Hrm. That's about it off the top of my head.

 

[Lela]

Being a rogue would play off a lot of Kobald strengths (never thought I'd put those two words in one sentence). Maybe I can get the DM to let me pull a few Halfling strengths to help my character out (bonus to Jump, Move Silently, etc.) I mean, after all, he's a fricken Kobald.


Though, in retrospect, I recall this DM playing a Kobald in another campaign a while back. Though I don't know the details, I understand that something went very very wrong involving the other PCs. Maybe I'll ask about that before I make a decission. . .

 

[Yip]

I can just picture what went horribly wrong too

DM: Whilst sitting at your camp fire, a kobold scampers cautiously up to the edge of the light. It looks like it is about to...
Player: I hit it with lightning for ruining my dinner.
DM: Don't you want to hear what it was doing?
Player: It's only a kobold, I'm sure it wasn't that interesting. How much XP did that give me?

Go the Yip, be damned with what the other players think. If they don't like him, remember that ale barrel back in Bellhold.

Yip long and prosper.

 

[Lela]

Go the Yip, be damned with what the other players think. If they don't like him, remember that ale barrel back in Bellhold.

I ended up being an Aquatic Elven Druid. His dream is to one day fly among the storms. To this end, he has taken up worship of the Tekie (sp?) god of Storms and is planning on the Stormlord PrC.

But, being that the Druid is rather weak (I didn't used to think so, but, dang, I can't do much now), I wouldn't mind him dying. Perhaps a Yip Sacred Fist or a Yip Cleric of the Storms?