Seldarn Empire - The Mega-Module Jam

Thursday, August 17th, 518 AF, continued

Durhon and Yip leave Elmo's hut with a note in hand. They head through town towards the Temple of St Cuthbert, and are greated by a youthful cleric at the gate.

"We need yer priest," Durhon snarls, holding up two ears and Elmo's letter in one hand. "Fast."

The young cleric goes pale, then hurries to guide them through the temple to Y'dey's office. He dissappears behind the closed door for a few minutes with their letter, then returns.

"The Cannoness will see you now." He looks even paler than before.

Yip and Durhon go inside. Y'Dey is a tall woman, grey-eyed and stern in her robes. She looks them both over carefully, paying close attention to Yip.

"It says here the town owes you a debt," Y'dey says, holding up the letter. "And that you'd brought something of interest back from the old Boathouse."

Durhon nods and puts the holy symbol and ears on the desk. Y'dey goes quiet for a few moments while she examines the symbol, and even Durhon fidgets slightly in the silence.

"This bodes ill," Y'dey says eventually, "and if it means what it may, the town may owe you a debt greater than killing a dragon. This symbol belonged to the elemental cults that built the boathouse. The last time they returned to their old base, it was the sign of greater danger to come. We will be forced to assume they seek to do the same this time."

She picks up the ears.

"And where is the rest?" she asks.
"Boathouse." Durhon grunts.
"You didn't bring them back?"
"They were heavy," Durhon snarls. "And we was movin' fast without a healer."
"hmm." Y'dey frowns. "I can bring them back, but without the body it requires spells beyond my power. I have some scrolls, but their value is more than the town can afford to pay on it's own..."

There is a poignant pause. Durhon starts emptying sacks out on the ground before her desk, pouring out the spoils of the dragons lair and several valueable peices of his dead companions equipment.

"We're soldiers, not adventurers," he says. "We ain't got no money. How 'bout you take stuff till we're square, then get on with the raisin'?"

Y'dey nods, and starts directing Yip to pick up items and place them on her desk. Much of the weapons and armor they suspected was magical dissappears into St Cuthbert's coffers, as do the gems, face-mask and contents of much of their church. Durhon notes that Warwind and Taranos will have precious little to fight with if they return, but figures that's the price to pay for being dead. Eventually Y'dey nods, and gestures for Durhon to gather the small pile of equipment that remains.

"Go with Calmer," she says, gesturing to the young cleric by the door. "He'll heal what wounds you have while I bring back your friends. It will take time, and I make no guarentee of it's success, but they shall return if St Cuthbert wills it."

Durhon raises an eyebrow, then breaks wind to show his displeasure at the concept.

"Right," he says. "Just bring em back."

He follows Yip out of the room.
 
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Thursday, August 17th, 518 AF, continued

Having been told by Calmer that ressurecting their comrades will take the better part of the evening, if not all night, Durhon decides on a course of action for the evening.

"Ay, runt," he grunts at Yip. "I'll buy ye and ale."
Yip thinks on this for a few moments, contemplating the scar where his previous trip to a tavern went wrong.
"You got somthin' better to do?" Durhon demands. Yip shrugs. He hasn't.

They head towards the Inn of the Welcome Wench, working on Elmo's recommendation that the ale is of a slightly better quality than that of Terrigan's Tavern.

The interior of the Welcome Wench is warm and comforting, and there is already a small crowd gathered in the early twilight. There's a woman working behind the bar, but she turns away when she smells Durhon's unwashed stench and the dwarf leers at her. She huddles in the corner, having a short arguement with a burly man who emerges from the kitchen. Once or twice during the arguement, she waves her hand in front of her nose as though to clear the air.

"Innkeeper," Durhon grunts knowing, nodding at the man arguing with the barmaid. "I'll stake my stench on it."

Eventually, the burly innkeep bustles up to the companions table.
"What'll it be?" he asks.
"What ye got?" Durhon asks. THe innkeep rattles off a list of ales and wines, but Durhon's attention is caught by something middway through the list.
"Peat beer?" he demands. "Did ye just say ye had peat beer?"
"Yessir," the innkeeper says. "We have a barrel or two on hand, for those with a more discerning palet. Imported from Beldarrun from the north."
"Done," Durhon says, his grimy beard twisting around ane ecstatic smile. Yip watches, an uneasy feeling already settling over him.

The innkeep looks at Durhon, sniffs the dwarves offensive odour for a moment.
"I should warn you, sir," he tells the dwarf, "That peat beer will come at a considerable cost."
"Hrm," Durhon grunts. "Figures. Save a town from a dragon and they still charge you for an ale."
"Dragon," the Innkeep asks, incredulous. "I heard nothing about any dragon."

Once again, Durhon up-ends his sack and reveals the spoils of war. The innkeeper looks at the severed head, aghast.
"What's ye name, Innkeep?" Durhon asks.
"O-o-ostler,"
"Ye own this place, Oster?" Durhon asks reasonably.
"Aye."
"Then how'd you like this trinket for your wall?"
Ostler looks at the dragons head, and almost forgets to nod.
"Then why don't you bring me a peat beer, and one for my friend. A nights drinking an a plaque with me name seems more than fair for a fresh dragon's head. Durhon, dragonslayer. Aye?"

Ostler nods again.
"Two peat beers," the innkeeper agrees. "With more to come. And welcome, Durhon, to the Welcome Wench."

The peat beer is brought in short order. Yip drinks warily, unfamiliar with the dwarven drink. The beer is thick and heavy, and before he's even finished the first mug Yip feels his tongue hanging heavily in his mouth and a slight dizziness when he starts to talk. Durhon sits by his side, laughing uproariously.

"A night to remember, knobbly," he shouts at the kobold. "We killed us a dragon and we be celebratin'. It's a night to remember."

Yip doesn't remember much beyond the second mug of peat beer, but it occurs to him towards the end that the beers taste reminds him of earth and mud.
 
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Friday, August 18th, 518 AF

Taranos shudders awake, gasping for breath. His body's last instinct is to dodge a blast of electricity, and he thrashes about on the alter of St Cuthberts temple, rolling to avoid the blast. He lands in a crouch, hand grasping at the space where his sword once rested, before he realises he's alive. His wide eyes take in the surroundings. Insence. Grey stone. The iron Cross symbol of St Cuthbert's church.

"How was it?"
Taranos spins, and sees Warwind standing in the shadows behind the alter. The elf's features are ragged, as though he's been through great turmoil. Taranos understands the feeling. He wheezes slightly as his breathing returns to normal, feels his stomach churcning.

"Ain't doing it again," Taranos grunts. "Next time I die, leave me for Heironous. It ain't worth this."

Warwind nods. His experience with returning from death was none to pleasant, but Taranos looks visibly disturbed by the prospect. Warwind walks forward with a peice of cloth and sponges a small river of blood running from Taranos nose.

"Nosebleed," he offers by way of explanation. Taranos closes his eyes for a few moments, not answering.

Cannoness Y'dey is standing nearby, the ashes of two recently used scrolls scattered on the floor around her feat. She barely looks better than the two vetran's she's returned to life. There's a faint sheen of sweat is visible on her face, and it's obvious that the effort required has taken it's toll on her.

"Calmer," she calls. The younger priest is instantly by her side. "Take these two to find their friends."
Warwind and Taranos break into grim smiles at the command. At least Durhon and Yip seem to have made it back alive. With one last look at the grim iron cross over the alter, they bow slightly to the Cannoness and follow the ocolyt into Hommlet's streets.


It takes little time to track down Durhon. Calmer leads the two newly-raised adventurers to the Welcome Wench, and the dwarf if snoring blissfully in a pool of mud by the front door.
"Figures," Warwind comments. He nods to Calmer, dismissing him, before joining Taranos in the search for a safe method of waking their companion.

"Do you think it's safe to poke him?" Warwind asks.
"Nope," Taranos answers. He points at Durhon's great-axe, clutched to his chest while he sleeps. "Remember when Argul woke him in the midst of a nightmare outside Calthea?"
Warwind thinks for a moment, then mutters a short prayer for the dead.
"Perhaps cold water?" Warwind ventures. "If nothing else, he could use a bath."

This gives Taranos an idea. There is a brief, whispered discussion while he outlines the plan, then a quick retreat to the tavern entrance while Warwind implements it.

Warwind casts a quick cantrip, summoning the scent of soap-suds directly beneath Durhon's nose.

Durhon is on his feat instantly, axe waving arove his head within seconds of the spells completion.

"Anyone comming near me with soap looses a hand," he snarls. A glob of still wet mud dislodges itself from his beard and lands with an audiable splat between his feat. The axe freezes in mid-twirl as he looks down at it, abashed but still guarded.

"Quite," Warwind, sniffing the fragrant air around the dwarf and grinning to himself. "You know, I think we've found his weakness. Next time he's stubborn about going somewhere, we just follow along behind him with a cake of soap. Best put that on the shopping list."

Durhon growls, his nostrils flaring. Taranos can see trouble brewing
"Where's Yip?" He asks.
"What?"

Durhon's anger is diffused, replaced with a sudden realisation of where he is. The midst of the street, muddy, with the aftereffects of the evenings celibration catching up with him. He feels a sudden bout of nasuea and leans onto the axe-haft to keep upright.
"Inside," he grunts. "Hung 'im up for safekeeping before they threw me out."
Then he collapses on the ground, feeling the first signs of a headache.

Taranos leaves Warwind to watch the dwarf, then heads into the Welcome Wench. His puzzlement at Durhon's use of the phrase "hung up for safe-keepeing" is immediately cleared up when he finds the kobold hanging from a cloak-peg by the taverns door, his scaly feet some two and a half feet from the floor. Yip seems unphased by this, sleeping soundly with his muzzle flaring with breif, yapping snores.

"Ahem."

Taranos's loud exclamation wakes the kobold, and even Taranos has to admit that he's impressed by the monks ability to snap from deep sleep to alert. Tiny paws fly into a defensive position, and the kobolds feet scramble for purchase.
"What happen?" Yip asks.
"I think, from the looks of things, you went drinking with Durhon," Taranos explains. Nothing further seems necessary. Yip takes quick stock of his situation, years of training in the arts of hiding pain almost keeping the effects of his hangover from appearing on his features. Using his tail as leverage, he pushes himself off the cloak-peg and performs a neat sommersault on landing. It doesn't prove to be the best idea.

"You...alive?" he asks, after he pulls his head out of a nearby bucket.
"It would appear so."
"Yip glad. Not good when one of clan dies."
Taranos reply is cut short by Warwinds angry yell from outside.
"You gave them what..."
 
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Tallarn said:
Looks like the...excrement...has hit the fan Re: abandoned equipment...

Well, there was some general unhappiness. Taranos and Warwind did loose stuff they were fairly attached too, and they were both in another room generating new characters when the realisation that they could be raised dawned on the other two. They basically got back to the table in time to find most of their valuable possesions being handed over to St Cuthbert's Church. From memory, Taranos is suddenly down a magic longsword and shield, which is a bit of a blow given the choice of cleric of heironous was made to run around with a blade and call it a holy symbol :) I can't rightly remember what I stripped from Warwind. Scrolls and wands mostly, I think, and his bow which was either masterwork or magical. Both were also stripped bare of healing magic by Durhon and Yip as well.

Of course, the impact of this was greatly eased when they realised the stuff had gone to getting them true ressurections, keeping them at their current level. Even better received when they heard that I was working at a reduced XP rate for the entireity of the campaign, but keeping treasure levels around the same standards set by the DMG.

Well, full of X-mas goodness and food right now. Will be returning home to my notes tomorrow night after seeing the Two Towers, and I'm sure the inspiration of it all will make me want to post a new update then :)
 

Friday, August 18th, 518 AF, continued

Taranos and Yip rush outside, to find an angry Warwind attempting to loom menacingly over Durhon.
"I gave yer bow to the priestess," Durhon grunts. "Ye were dead, and it was the only way te get ye back."
"Why didn't you just pay them with gold," Warwind demands. Durhon snarls.
"Where'm I getting gold from, Treehugger?" he demands, "It ain't exactly like I'm rich. Ye was dead, we needed to get ye back. I did what I did. By the gods, Live with it."
"You could have got the gold from my hut," Warwind says, then lapses into a sulk for a few seconds before he realises what he's said. It's too late, Durhon's already registered.

"What gold in ye hut?" he asks, suddenly as pleasant as he can manage. "Where in hell are ye hiding gold, and where did ye get it? We've been warring and fighten for three years. Nobody gets rich doin' that."
Warwind doesn't answer any questions on the subject, and finding no sound arguement against Durhon's actions, settles for sulking quietly.

"I take it my swords gone to the Cuthbert's as well?" Taranos asks. Durhon nods.
"Unfortunate. I'll need another before we head back."
Durhon turns to face him.
"Go back? Why?"
"Did you look through the ruins, search out the robed ones we were sent to find?"
"We weren't exactly lookin that good by the time the dragon went down," Durhon grumbles.
"Then we're going back," Taranos explains. "I'm not letting something evil fester there once more, and I'm not letting some ancient ruin scare us after the dangers of the war."

Durhon grumbles, but his interest is piqued once the prospect is put in oppositional terms. He'd faced Trollish shamans and brought them low. Some stray human cultists couldn't be any more dangerous.

"We'll talk to Elmo," Taranos continues, "I'm sure he can find us weapons to cover our recent losses. They may not be magical, but they'll do. Now that we've beaten the dragon, how dangerous can the place be?"

His enthusiasm for the task quickly infects Warwind and Durhon, and soon all three are planning their assult on the reuins enthusiastically as they treck across town.

Yip, trailing behind, is less enthused. His head still hurts, and slowly flashes of memory from the previous night are coming back to him. The drinking games, the earthy taste of the beer and...the stranger. Some man lurking in the shadowy corner of the bar, who'd left suspiciously quickly after Durhon stood on the bar to tell the assembled townsfolk his story. At the time it seemed nothing, but in the cold light of memory it seems strangely suspicious. He hears Taranos ahead, proclaiming the ease of their mission again as they enter Elmo's office, and a troubled feeling passes over the kobold...
 
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Friday, August 18th, 518 AF, continued

A quick meeting with Elmo solves the primary problems of weapons. He directs the group to a small store-room beneath the Welcome Wench, a place where weapons were stored in the time of the Temple's strength. There are numerous weapons to spare here, several of high quality. Taranos is pleased to find a longsword perfectly sized and weighted for him, while a grumbling Warwind restocks with a human-made bow and quiver of arrows.

After this, the group splits. Taranos and Warwind return to their huts, seeking to do a few more repairs and eat a good meal before heading back to the Moathouse in the morning. Taranos still looks haunted by his recent brush with the afterlife, and the hunger does little to help him recover. After their meal, they head to the towns Apothacary, seeking to replace the potions their companions used or traded after death. Inside the small store is a single, grim-featured dwarf and a ten year old girl. The girl introduces herself as Renne and there is a breif exchange of gold for healing potions. Warwind thinks to ask about how long replacement stock will take to arrive, thinking ahead to his return to the town. Renne goes quiet in the wake of the question, then softly replies she doesn't know. It's obvious something is up, but both vetrans are still shaken from their resurection and leave further inquieries for the time being.

Durhon heads back to the Welcome Wench, planning on drinking away the remainder of the night. The dragon's skull is sitting on a pole outside the tavern when he arrives, a good ten feet off the ground. He looks up the eerily bare skull.
"I wanted a plaque," he growls at Ostler as he settles onto a barstool.
"And you'll get it," Ostler hurries to explain. "We just need to cure the skull, air it a little to get rid of the smell. The poles a temporary measure, something to grab people's interest before they see it in it's true glory above the bar."
"Good," Durhon grunts.
"I do have one question, though..." Ostler ventures. Durhon glares at him until a mug of ale is slid into his hands.
"What," he growls around the rim of the mug.
"What happened to the beasts teeth..."

Yip is standing outside the workshop of the town leatherworker. He's just had a long and involved conversation with the shops owner, explaining the concept and design of a bola while handing over the weights of the weapon Utreshimon destroyed. Finally the gnome in charge seemed to understand his request, and assures the young kobold the weapon will be ready to pick up the following morning.

Yip leans agianst the side of the building and surveys the town street. He still feels out of place here, finds himself missing the presence of his own kind. The elders of the church talked of this as a reward, but apart from the discovery of ale he's yet to find anything rewarding about the experience. He hisses and curses in kobold. He hears a sudden yelp of fear from the corner of the building.

His trianing kicks in immediately. Yip drops low and flings himself forward, performing a neat somersault and coming to his feet at the corner with shiruken in his hands. There are a trio of wide-eyed children there, staring at the gleaming silver blades with open fear.

Yip immediately makes a strangled yelp of embarresment and drops the weapons to the ground.
"No hurt," he yips quickly. "No hurt. Yip friend."
The children still stare at him, the threatened assult of the previous day obviously lending doubt to the kobolds assertations.
"Here. Yip have present," Yip says quickly. He digs in his pouch and pulls forth a number of dragons teeth to offer to the children. "Yip help. Yip make bad dragon fall from the sky. Yip help."

Suddenly the fear is gone, and the three children are staring at the nine-inch dragon incors. The boldest of them steps forward, reaching forward with a tentative hand to stroke the tooth.

"Have," Yip offers. "Present. Yip have lots for friends. Presents."

The three children look at their gifts in wonder, slowly pressing the strange creature with tales of the battle. Yip shrugs and settles onto the dirt to tell the tale. By the time he's finished, a small crowd of young humans and elves surrounds him, rubbing their hands over newly aquired dragons teeth and staring at the kobold with shining, admiring eyes.
 

I like Yip! That's so sweet, a little crowd of children gathered round a kobold who's giving out teeth...really gets you in the Xmas spirit, doesn't it?
 

Excellent story hour!

It's very funny, with engaging characters and a very familiar story (I've run RttToEE myself)... :) I like your characterizations of the Hommlet npcs.
 

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