Seldarn Empire - The Mega-Module Jam

[arwink]

Wednesday, August 16th, 518 AF, continued

The line of lightening arcs across the courtyard, impacting against the brick wall just a few feet short of the wooden door the rest of the party is using for cover. Yip's reflexes kick in before he's even conscious of the lightening bolts path. He drops to the ground, rolling to the side, then looks at the scorched line of flagstones where the electricity has past by. There is a breif moment of panic, followed by overwhelming relief that he appears to be whole and unwounded. He mutters a breif prayer of thanks to St Cuthbert and the warrior priest who trained him as he springs to his feet.

Yip hears a mighty scream behind him, then sees Durhon charging past with his great axe raised high above his head. The dwarf moves swiftly, despite the heavy chain he wears, and covers the courtyard in a quick dash. There is the jingle of chain as Durhon's leaps take him up the short stairs to the buildings doorway and the dwarf strikes out at the dragon. The axe cuts a deadly arc, impacting on the wyrms nose. There is a sudden spurt of blood and the dragon roars in pain. Yip follows a few steps behind the dwarf and launches a flying kick at the dragon's raised head. Although his claw catches the creatures scaley hide, there is little force behind the blow. Yip hisses as he lands, angry and frightened when he realises he's placed himself in the front line.

There is the mutter of hasty spellcasting coming from the gateway to the small keep, as Taranos gives himself some small measure of defence against lightening, then hurridly loads his crossbow. This produces a chuckle from the blue-scaled dragon, confident it can penetrate the dwarfs paltry defenses. For a few moments it considers doing so, but the pain in its snout reminds it of more pressing concerns, so the beast lurches forward from the Door's shadow and hammers at the Durhon with claws and teeth. A few wounds are inflicted, but Durhon has an almost supernatural hardiness that serves him well. Warwind, on the other side of the courtyard, sees the dragons attacks land and immediately concludes he wouldn't far so well in the same circumstances. He immediately summons a suit of arcane armor, fervently hoping it wont be neccessary.

Durhon and the dragon trade blows for a few seconds, Yip hovering on the fringe of their duel to throw inneffectual punches against the dragons scales. Durhon swears as his companions try to aid him, Warwind and Taranos firing a arrows and crossbow bolts that narrowly miss both himself and the dragon.

"Fer the love of the gods," he yells over his shoulder. "Yer a mage. Put down the bow and hit it with a spell."
"Dragon's are hard to hurt with Magic," Warwind yells back, notching another arrow. Then both of them realise what they've just said aloud, and there's the sharing of a communal curse word. They notice the Dragon's ears have pricked with curiousity, even as it rains blows against Durhon's defences.

The dragon sets its eyes on the far side of the courtyard, watching the elven wizard notch with a gleam in its eye. It bears a few cuts and bruises, but it's dealt much damage to the dwarven warrior in exchange. Durhon is bleeding from multiple wounds, some of them deep enough to cause the warrior extreme discomfort.

The dragon decides the odds are in its favor and lurches forward, knocking Durhon a few feet down the steps and causing Yip to flatten himself against the wall to avoid the same fate. The dragon's lurch becomes a spring as it's bulk is pulled free of the building and it takes to the air.

"Wizard," it purrs, and its eyes gleam with anticipation.

 

[arwink]

Wednesday, August 16th, 518 AF, continued

Utreshimon, the dragon, hovers in the air above the courtyard. It looks down on the gnats that oppose it, trying to force their way into its new lair. The axe-wielding dwarf is picking itself up at the bottom the stairs, keeping a wary eye on the hovering dragon as it pulls a crystal vial from a belt pouch. As the dwarf drinks the liquid, several of the wounds Utreshimon inflicted heal.

The second dwarf, armed with a crossbow, fires a bold from its vantage point near the outside wall. The bolt clatters accross Utreshimon's scales. The dwarf is also screaming at the elven wizard, telling him to cast spells before it's too late. The wizard is pale and frightened, huddled against the stone as he casts. The rapid beat of the dragons wings stirs up the debris scattered among the flagstone, raising a cloud of dust that blocks the dragons sight of his prey. His keen senses can still sense them in the cloud below, and he hears the wizard complete a spell and smells a sudden crackle of flame. Utreshimon gives a breif laugh of amusement at the wizards feeble spell, until the rolling ball of flame lept out of the mist and scorched a scaled flank. It's a minor wound, but the unexpectedness of the attack stuns the dragon. He roars in suprise and breathes another bolt of lightening into the mist, listening to cries of horror from those below.

Of the four adventurers, only Yip is free from the blinding effects of the dust. He can see Taranos' bolts rising out of the mist, the strange sight of Warwind's ball of flame leaping out in futile attempts to strike the dragon, and hear the rumbling curses of Durhon when the dwarf realises the dragon isn't going to return to melee combat. None of Yips companions can see the dragon, and the kobold can tell they are doomed if the dragon remains in the air, whipping up the cloud of dust.

Yip grits his teeth, his tail twiching in aggitation. He can think of only one chance, and even then it seems a longshot. He pulls a bola free from his belt and starts whirling it above his head.

Traditionally his order is trianed in the weapon to help stop fleeing theives, and Yip has seen the masters achieve some truly miraculous things with the weapon, but after four years in the war he's had little chance to use the weapon in combat and he's never brought down anything larger than a fleeing gazzel. THe mighty limbs of the dragon would shred the weapon in seconds - his only chance is to entangle the franticly beating wings.

Muttering a short prayer to St Cuthbert, he lets loose with the weapon. The spinning weights carry it towards the flying creature with unerring accuracy, and Yip cannot contain his cry of triumph as Utreshimon's wings are tangled together, bringing the flying dragon crashing to the ruined courtyard below...

 

[Durhon]

errr.... stinkin friggin dragon. As er rememba correct I damn near snotted the thing next. Nice ol' axe t the 'ead. 'ad to do somethin before stinkin Knobbyknees 'ead got too big!

 

[arwink]

Wednesday, August 16th, 518 AF, continued

Yip lets out a short yelp of glee as he sees the dragon's entangled form drop into the dust cloud. The impact of the wyrms body on the aged cobblestones is audible, and several of them crack under the sudden weight. Utreshimon lets out a growl of pain on impact, which causes the kobold monk to grin even wider.

Under the cover of the settling dust cloud, Utreshimon shreds the kobolds bola and free's himself, regaining his feat with an almighty roar. It does him little good. The four vetrans see a sudden advantage, and Taranos leads a charge to engage the creature in hand to hand.

As the dust settles Utreshimon finds himself flanked by Durhon, Taranos and Yip, with Warwind's flaming sphere rolling perilously beneath his feet. Utreshimon, for the first time in its life, feels a moment of panic. He lashes out with claws, jaws and wings, and scores several serious wounds against his foes. Although Taranos is slowed by the slashing claws and Yip is forced to fall back, they merely serve to make Durhon angry. The smelly dwarves vision goes red, and he starts gibbering innanely as he hammers at the dragon with his oversized axe. Soon dwarf and dragon are trading each other blow for blow - the dragons teeth and claws barely causing as much damage as the rage-fuled smites of the dwarven warrior.

For the first time, Utreshimon's thoughts turn to escape. Seconds before he can take to the air, Durhon's crushing blow smashes the dragon to the ground, causing it's legs to buckle beneath it. Durhon crows with joy to see the dragon picking itself up off the ground, a dazed expression on its face. Warwind takes the opportunity to hammer the wyrm with a magic missile, while Taranos scores his first decent blow with his sword. Even the rapid staccato of Yip's tiny paws against the creatures scales seem to bring it even closer to exhaustion.

Utreshimon panics. Sorely wounded, disoriented and suddenly afraid of the dwarf with the cruel axe, he sees the possibility of death looming before him. On reflex, he unleashes a final burst of electricity. Durhon catches a the merest edge of the blast, a jolt of power running making his tangled hair suddenly stand on end, but Taranos and Warwind take the brunt of the blast. Taranos is thrown into a wall by the electric charge, his blackened and smoking body falling in a heap on the ground. Warwind tries to take cover behind the remenants of the gateway doors, but the flimsy wood is blasted apart and the elven wizard dies in an agony of burning energy and splinters.

There is a moment of stillness accross the courtyard. The wildeyed dragon turns its gaze on Durhon even as the dwarf raises his axe for another strike. Yip merely looks accross the courtyard, at two companions he's sure are already dead. He's seen such things happen to clan-teams in the theif tunnels before, and he knows it usually means one thing - they're screwed. Only years of training prevents him from closing his eyes to avoid watching the next blow, knowing that both he and Durhon are dead if the dwarf misses.

"Kill," he shrieks at Durhon. "Killkillkillkillkillkill!"

The dwarf complies immediately.

Durhon roars with rage as his axe leaps forward, burying it deep in the dragon's skull. Utreshimon topples slowly, like a falling tree, and collapses to the ground in a cloud of dust. Durhon wrenches his axe out of the dragons skull, leaning on it as he calms down, struggling for breath.

"Now that," he says between hurried gasps. "That was what I call a fight."

He grins widely at Yip while the terrified kobold waits for the reality of their victory to sink in.

 

[arwink]

A Brief Diversion in the Afterlife

For my players: Guys, blame Sean. He originally gave me the idea...

Interlude

Utreshimon wakes suddenly, the pain in his head suddenly gone. The dragon feels a thrill of exhileration, followed by a crushing hollowness when it realises it can no longer feel...anything. Attempts to stretch the tiredness from its limbs meet with little success, and when it attempts to take to the air Utrishimon find it floats rather than flies.

It's a disturbing feeling, and the dragon comes to a single conclusion - it's dead.

Utreshimon looks around. The afterlife is grey, bland. Not what he was expecting. He hears the sound of a throat being cleared, and looks down to see a grinning halfling floating where his tallons would have been if he still had flesh. Utreshimon's first instinct is to snap at the morsel, but is held back by a sudden feeling of unease when the thoughts run through his head.

"So," the halfling asks, "World's greatest predator, huh? What happened to you?"

Utreshimon thinks back, trying to work out where his final stand went wrong.

"Well," he rumbles though a non-existent throat, "there was this kobold..."

End Interlude

 

[Durhon]

yeah great!! Can see that one coming back to bite us!!

 

[arwink]

Wednesday, August 16th, 518 AF, continued

Durhon and Yip take little time to rest. As soon as the dwarf has regained his breath, he cuffs the kobold behind an ear.

“C’mon,” he growls. “Lets see if they got something useful.”

Yip hesitates slightly at Durhon’s suggestion, but quickly sees the logic in his words. Both of them are wounded, and their companions are dead. Warwind, at least, would be carrying a few healing potions that could keep them alive along enough to get back to Hommlet. The kobold limps towards the corpses of his two companions, then gingerly starts picking through the contents of their packs.

Taranos’ is the worst to go through, many of his possessions blackened and charred from the dragons final burst of lightening. The cleric’s enchanted sword has melted into slag, and the impact against the wall has broken a potion vial. Despite this, there are still a few scrolls and potions left intact and all bear the Empire’s common rune for healing.

Warwind’s pack is more whole, and as suspected is filled with healing magic. Durhon and Yip split the vials, downing the precious potions until they find themselves nearly whole.

“Well,” Durhon grunts, “at least he’s doing something useful.”

With their wounds healed, both of them turn towards more mundane tasks. Yip starts ripping free the dragon’s teeth, hiding them away in a belt pouch.
“What ye doin’ that for?” Durhon demands. “Think you’ll become mage or somethin’?”
Yip shakes his head, then holds two of the teeth up to his own mouth like saber-toothed fangs.
“Useful, maybe,” he chirps cheerfully. “Decoration, at least.”

Durhon grunts. He contemplates skinning the wyrm for armor but figures there’s not quite enough scales to make a decent suit for anyone but Yip. The dragon looks smaller in death, only slightly larger than a man, and as its toothy maw is rapidly depopulated by Yip it slowly starts to loose the fearsome aspect it had during the battle.

Leaving the kobold to his plunder of the dragon’s anatomy, Durhon climbs the stores and pushes past the doors into the gatehouse’s Great Hall.

The Hall still caries the stench of the dragon’s occupation, as well as two decaying corpses. Durhon, used to his own odor, hardly notices as he strides cautiously through the door. He takes the time to give both corpses a cursory examination, taking a few moments to loot anything that seems interesting. The first is that of a human female, still clad in black leather armor and killed by wounds that resemble a dragon’s claw mark. Durhon takes the woman’s short bow, as well as some scattered gold coins and 3 green gems. The second is half-eaten, the dragon’s teeth shearing through the chainmail it once wore. Durhon takes the corpses faintly glowing mace, some gold coins, a scroll and a mask carved from some kind of strange lilac stone. The corpse also wears brown robes over its chainmail, and Durhon remembers Del’s warning of strangers in the ruins. Almost as an afterthought, Durhon checks the symbols both corpses wear around their necks. Both wear a symbol the warrior doesn’t recognize, a yellow Y inscribed into the black, triangular stone. Maybe it will help Elmo determine what’s going on.

Grimly, the dwarf turns on his heel and strides into the courtyard. Yip is still happily pulling teeth from the dragon’s head. The small kobold barely notices as Durhon strides towards him, but screams in surprise when the Dwarf brings his great-axe down on the dragon’s neck, severing the head.

“Come on,” Durhon grunts, “We’re goin.”
Yip glares angrily as Durhon leans over and hefts the dragon’s head onto his shoulder.
“Why take head?” Yip demands.
Durhon jerks his chin towards the doorway to the hall.

“There’s a pair o’ corpses in there,” he explains. “Two of them, one in brown robes like Del said. I ain’t takin the chance there’s no more of em, and I ain’t taken the chance they ain’t priests. Last thing I wanna do is face ‘is nastiness again as a zombie.”

Yip contemplates this for a moment, then nods in agreement.
“What about them?” he asks, gesturing at the bodies of their fallen comrades.

“Might have enough to bring em back,” Durhon says. “Can’t take both the bodies though. Go grab an ear or somethin’. That’s all they need, ain’t it?”

Yip doesn’t look pleased, but he draws a dagger and approaches the corpses. Once the ears are safely stowed, the dwarf and the kobold start the hike back to Hommlet.

 

[Mathew_Freeman]

I like Durhon. He has such a refreshing attitude to looting the bodies of the fallen. So pragmatic. So much of a realist.

 

[arwink]

I've edited the first post, but I'll mention it again here for those who've been reading for a while. The Mega-Module Jam now has a companion storyhour - St Cuthbert's Crusaders

St Cuthbert's Crusaders starts with the Churches reaction from the events in the next update, and will most likely intersect with this story a few times more as things progress.

This shameless plug is now over, and I'll go back to writing the next update

 

[arwink]

Thursday, August 17th, 518 AF

The two survivors of Utreshimon's attack make their way back to Hommlet in record time, stopping only breifly to camp and grab a fitful few hours sleep without the spellcasters to consider. They trudge into town in the late hours of the morning, still badly beaten and bruised from their fight.

Durhon takes charge as soon as they hit town. He walks towards the nearest townsman and shakes the bloody sack containing the dragons head at him.

"Elmo. Where is 'e?" he grunts. The stunned townsman stammers out basic directions. The grmbling dwarf immediately stalks off, leaving an appologetic Yip trailing along behind, calling out appologies as they leave the Townsman behind.

"Stoppit," Durhon barks back at the kobold.

They find Elmo at the entry hall to Pelor's temple, talking quietly with one of the priests. He raises his hand in greeting.

"So," he asks. "Did you find..."
Durhon opens the sack and dumps a dragons head at his feet.

"Lizard," he says simply. Elmo looks down, a little taken aback.

"Dead robe fellas," Durhon says, digging out the holy symbols they found on the corpses in the dragons lair and dropping them on top of the dragon's head.

"And dead comrades."

Durhon holds up the two ears, then tosses them on top of the pile. Taranos's is blackened and streaked with ash, while Warwinds is filled with splintered and caked with dry blood. Elmo's seen battle before, so he doesn't go pale at the sight, but he's visibly disturbed. He kneels over and picks up the holy symbols, taking care to keep his hands away from ears.

"So," Durhon asks, scooping everything up into the sack once more, "Have we 'helped out' the town enough yet, or do you figure you owe us something for our help?"

"Come with me," Elmo says eventually. "I'll write a note to the Temple of St Cuthbert. I think the town can waive the usual tax in this case, and we'll see what can be done about getting your friends raised from the dead."

Durhon nods in grim satisfaction, an dangerous look still on his face as they head off. Yip follows dutifully behind, frowning slightly at the note of tension that crept in the guard captains voice when he mentioned the St Cuthbert's Temple.