Seravin's Tales of the Night Below (Two Updates this Week - 07/24/07)

[Seravin]

Just a quick update on some things I forgot to mention in the last couple posts.
By this point Jallarzi now has her familiar. A black cat that she picked up in Milbourne before they took the barge captain up on his offer. She named her cat Sarah and the two have done quite well together. Sadly, Sarah doesn’t get a lot of screen time as I generally forget about her.

Of the two prisoners that had been taken, they both lost their memories by morning. They claimed their innoncence of whatever they had been held for, but no one believed them. The two were turned over to Squire Marlen in Thurmaster when they arrived.

The Keep
Parlfray Keep stands atop a low hill at the foot of the Halfcut Hills, some ten miles north-east of the village of Thurmaster. It was from this keep that Count Sandior Parlfray collected the taxes from the villages of Haranshire (being Haralton, Milbourne, and Thurmaster), oversaw any appeals of his magistrate’s verdicts of high justice, and made sure that the rules of his Duke and his Emperor were adhered to. The Count was also responsible for gathering a force of arms if his Duke should require it and providing protection for his lands as necessary; though the size of his current force in recent years was minimal since things had been quiet for almost forty years now.

Parlfray Keep was reasonably large for the size of the communities that it watched over. The income from the mines, the fishing from The Eelhold, and the merchant traffic between Blasingdale and Corlean all proved to be profitable endeavors and the size of the keep reflected the available monies.

Count Sandior Parlfray himself resembled his family keep in that he had been around for quite some time, was as stubborn as the hills the keep was built in, and he showed his age well. A pleasant, if stubborn man of seventy-one years, Count Sandior had outlived three wives and two concubines. The last woman had been Rizelda Astan, a lesser daughter of the Astan merchant house. Her family had arranged the marriage between Rizelda (all of eighteen at the time) and the fifty three year old Count. Much to everyone’s surprise she bore the aging Count an heir, dying as she did so.

Count Parlfray named the boy Lyntern, after his wife’s favorite uncle; which he knew to be her dying wish. Then not knowing what to do with a squalling baby, promptly turned the boy over to a wet-nurse and then a succession of tutors. Lyntern grew up knowing that he was to be his father’s successor and the old Count made sure that Lyntern knew the arts of war and leadership. Only twenty years prior to Lyntern’s birth, Sandior Parlfray had led mercenaries hired by his aging father to repel the lizard-folk raiders of Shrieken Mire from the walls of Thurmaster. Now eighteen years old himself, Lyntern knows his duty to his father, to his title, and to his duke. Like all young men his age though, Lyntern is certain there is something more to life then all he has been given.

The road from Thurmaster to Parlfray Keep was well maintained and the little caravan made good time; still it was just after sundown when the merchant caravan finally made it to the gates of the old keep. The guards at the gatehouse were alert and ready with torches when the caravan finally arrived on their doorstep and quickly set about verifying the cargo. Once business was concluded the members of the caravan were invited to the Count’s table, which was just being set. The unexpected invitation was gratefully accepted of course.

Count Parlfray provided a good table for guests, even unexpected ones. The meal was a pleasant affair and if anyone had any unease at sitting at the Count’s table they did not show it. For his part, Count Parlfray made pleasant conversation with Captain Peresten for the first part of the meal. He was understandably concerned when the Captain mentioned the bandit raid the night before; a raid which included the use of magic.

Before the Count could respond to the news, Captain Peresten continued on with his story of the bravery and skill of his new guards. These guards were the ones responsible for finding and dealing with the strange blue goblins of New Mire and had even performed jobs for the Library of Blasingdale. “It was a tough fight.” Admitted the captain. “I spent most of it wondering if I was going to die. But these mercenaries were worth every cent and were the only reason I was able to deliver your goods to you, your lordship.”

Count Parlfray considered the captain’s words with the stories he had already heard. Lord Carman had already made one report on the goblins of course and Squire Marlen of Thurmaster had remarked on some couriers or another who had made a delivery to Tauster. “Well then.” The old Count said, his black eyes sparkling from the light of the torches. “It seems we owe you a thank you for seeing that the Captain’s cargo arrived safely.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to watch out for all that foolish madcap gallivanting. Trust me, it will lead to no good. We can always use more guards though. A good solid profession it is; and regular pay too. Stick with Captain Peresten and you’ll find yourselves in good hands.” He took another sip from his wine glass and set it down, looking at Kellron and Ashimar. “The good captain said something about the Library? Why don’t you tell us all about it.”

The night passed thusly with Ashimar and Kellron relating their exploits from the last month. The Count was most interested in the first hand reports of these new goblins on his lands and in their estimation of these new bandits. The flying one concerned him, but he was gratified that three of the bandits had been captured and turned over to his squire in Thurmaster. He was less impressed with their tales of the Library though he was polite enough about it.

Eventually after three hours of tales, the good Count excused himself after wishing everyone a good night. “But stay.” He bid. “No need to cut short your meal because an old man needs his sleep.” He then turned to his son who had listened to the conversations avidly. “You know your duty son. Keep them company until it’s time to bid their leave.”

Lyntern nodded as everyone stood as the old Count took his leave.

An hour later only Lyntern, Kestral, and Ashimar remained at the table; enjoying a fairly decent wine. To anyone who knew the young noble, he was obviously smitten by the petite young woman. For her part Kestral was oblivious of the attention. Instead she found it cute that the young man (only a year younger then herself) was so taken with their adventures.

“You know.” He said conspiratorially to the two companions. “You seem like a brave bunch of mercenaries. We might be able to help each other.”

Kestral and Ashimar smiled at each other. The boy was positively transparent. “How so?” Asked Kestral sweetly.

Lyntern leaned in closer to Kestral, gratified by the attention. “I know of some ruins in the Thornwood where those bandits who attacked you might be hiding.”

This got Kestral’s and Ashimar’s attention. “Go on.” Said Ashimar.

“I’d be willing to take you to it.” The boy said.

Ashimar almost nodded, expecting the answer. “It would be dangerous.” He noted. “Why don’t you just tell us where it is?”

Lyntern’s face clouded. “I don’t want to stay here all my life.” He declared. “I need some experience outside these walls.” He declaimed throwing his hands wide to encompass the hall. “Let me just journey with you folks for a bit.” A sudden thought came to him. “If you let me go with you I can take you to a treasure horde.”

Kestral and Ashimar looked at each other again. Neither was really opposed to the young man going, but there were going to be some obvious complications. “What kind of treasure?” Asked Kestral.

“An ancestor of mine fought some bandits. Treshans really, about two hundred years ago. I know where the site of the battle was and I know that the old Count was never able to recover the bodies of the fallen. They were carrying armor enchanted by the Imperial Wizards of the time. It’s probably still good.”

Again Kestral and Ashimar looked at each other and a decision was reached. Ashimar answered for them both. “If you want to adventure that badly you can come with us.” He looked around the hall. “We’ll have to get you out of here without your father noticing though.”

The three planned for another hour before they broke for their beds. In the end they decided that Lyntern would stay at the keep until after the group had left. He would then wait five days and then ride to Milbourne where Kestral and Ashimar would be waiting for him. From there they would decide what to do. Either go visit the battle site in Hardlow Woods or continue on to these ruins in the Thornwood. Thus decided they went to their respective beds.

 

[Seravin]

On the matter of Gods

On the matters of the gods there are many that are known and respected throughout the Shtaran Empire. First and foremost of course is Latina, patroness of the Empire itself. Next would be Sarath, her general, and then Moran (the Lord of the Afterlife), Niela (Lady of Life), Vieta (Soul Taker), Jola (Lady Love), and Fon (Lord of Revelry). There are others of course, but these would be the ones that would immediately come to mind. What stands out about these gods is that they are all dedicated to the welfare of the people of the empire.

There are other gods that are not so kind to the Empire or her peoples. First and foremost is Tresh, the Dark Tyrant. He leads his siblings in constant war against the Gods of the Empire. It is the doctrine of his priests that the imperial family is weak and unfit to rule. Only the Dark Tyrant has the strength to expand the Empire to all lands and drive off the weak parasites that currently claim rule. Naturally the worship of Tresh is banned within Imperial lands.

 

[Seravin]

Busted

The next morning the Count’s visitors took their leave of Parlfray Keep and made the journey back to Thurmaster. The trip was uneventful and passed quickly, with the group reaching the sleepy little hamlet just after highsun. Once back in Thurmaster the five companions bid goodbye to Captain Peresten and his crew. The good captain was sorry to see them go, but he consoled himself that he was saving on the expenses.

After arranging for rooms at the Hounds and Tails the five companions went to see Tauster. Unfortunately they found a note on his door explaining he was busy and that anyone who disturbed him had better have a good reason. Looking at each the five made a collective shrug and made their way back to what passed for an inn. None of them enjoyed the prospect of staying at the Hounds and Tails for the night. Jallarzi lightened the mood considerably when she showcased one of her new spells and magically cleaned and de-ticked their rooms and bedding. It wasn’t a powerful spell but she earned everyone’s appreciation that night.

Later that afternoon, close to sunset, they paid another visit to Tauster’s cottage and found that he was now available. He looked tired but greeted them with a mixture of awe and pleasure. His news was good.

“The bow from the bandits and the ring are both magical.” He affirmed. “The bow’s enchantment is minor but useful. The ring however…” He trailed off for a moment. “The ring is of a power I have seen only a few times before.” The old man held up the small platinum band. “The wave pattern is obviously a reference of water so that is where I started. A basic divination revealed three facts. The first is that the ring will allow someone to stand over water; walk on the stuff really.” Tauster shrugged. “A useful ability but it highlights the second fact which is that there was obviously more to the ring as the spell is only moderately difficult. The final fact revealed by the spell is that the ring is fractured. Tauster turned the ring so the inside of the band was displayed a bit more prominently. “Here.” He pointed. “A hairline crack has developed here that circumnavigates half the ring.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what caused it, but based on the power of the ring itself it’s almost certainly the cause of New Mire; a small leak from the Plane of Water.” Tauster smiled reassuringly then. “However it’s obviously a slow leak and shouldn’t cause any short term problems. Just don’t move here.” The old mage laughed at his little joke. “At any rate I was interested enough to dip into some more magics and was able to confirm what I just told you.”

Naturally this interested everyone greatly. They were even more interested to learn that the ring had potentially even greater power over all things of water, but the crack rendered those powers unusable. The gray-haired mage agreed to write a letter to Lord Carmen certifying what he had just told them. Kestral accepts the ring back from Tauster and with the quiet assent of her friends, puts it on.

Later as they bid themselves good night, Kestral stays behind and chats with the old man for a little while longer. She ends up making a friend of the old mage and discovers that he has settled in Thurmaster due to some conflict with an important person at the Library. Tauster is mostly philosophical about it now, saying he’s happier outside the politics; but Kestral detects just a hint of fear when he speaks of his falling out. It’s a late night but eventually she leaves the man in peace and finds her bed at the Hounds and Tail.

The next morning the five companions begin their journey back to Milbourne, stopping overnight at Kupier’s farm again. The former Imperial Scout is glad to see them again and the group enjoys yet another pleasant night before moving on to Milbourne the next morning.

Once in Milbourne they promptly head to Lord Carmen’s house and present Tauster’s letter. The aging landowner looks at the letter with some suspicion but Tauster’s reputation is good in the shire and so Lord Carmen opens his coffers and carefully counts out a measured number of coins and jewels. That night there is some celebration at the Baron of Mutton.

The next day and a half followed pretty quietly. The group restocked supplies at Rastifer’s General Store (though for some reason they passed up the pickled eel rations) and spent the first morning planning on what they should do next. It was a toss-up between going back to the abandoned mine where the ogre was taking up habitation or in exploring the Thornwood where the flying bandit had escaped. Eventually they decided on the mines, but Ashimar and Kestral insisted on waiting for something just outside of town the next morning. Kellron was the only one of them unaware that Lyntern was due to meet them. Suspicious, he agreed, deciding to take a wait and see approach.

When the morning came, gray and overcast, the five friends left the sleepy little town of Milbourne and made their way to a small glade about a mile east of town. There they waited.

And waited.

By sundown it was clear that Lyntern wasn’t coming. Ashimar and Kestral looked at Kellron.

“We have to tell you something.” They said, almost in unison.

“Sarath.” Swore the Paladin. “What have you two done now?”

 

[Seravin]

Sorry, but not an update.
The games are heating up and I'm spending more time prepping then writing. Hopefully I'll have an update by Tuesday though.

In the meantime may I suggest from Sepulchrave II:
Lady Despina's Virtue
Lady Despina's Virtue pt. II
The Heretic of Wyre
The Heretic of Wyre Part II
The Rape of Morne
The Rape of Morne Part II
Soneillon

or from Piratecat
Piratecat's Updated Story Hour!

or from Destan
Sins of Our Fathers

These would be my top three favorite story hour writers. You should enjoy them if you hadn't already come across them.

 

[Seravin]

Just a short update, but I'm working on the next one.
__________________________________________

Back at the Keep
The five friends stood straight and tall in Parlfray Keep. Before them, in his family’s ancestral seat sat the lord of Parlfray Keep, Count Sandior Parlfray. The white haired, seventy year old aristocrat did not look happy. Next to the aging count stood another man dressed in the black robes of a priest of Latina. The priest was younger than the Count, perhaps only fifty years or so. The priest seemed faintly amused by the proceedings though he kept his features admirably blank.

A dozen more serious, stern-faced guards filled the hall behind the party. No one was willing to bet whether or not the guards had orders to kill them. Off to the side stood the dark haired Lyntern, somehow managing to look both sorrowful and somber at the same time.

The heir to the County of Haranshire, Lyntern Parlfray, had been caught leading his fully packed horse out of the stables and to the front gate. The captain of the guards happened to have been doing a surprise inspection just as Lyntern approached the front gate. The captain’s keen eyes quickly noted Lyntern’s camping and hunting gear and he had stopped the young lord with a few words. It might have ended there (or not, given the follies of youth), but Lyntern’s father had chosen that moment to make his rounds of the keep at the same time. Though old, the Count’s eyes were fully as keen as his guard-captain’s. The eighteen-year-old Lyntern found himself grounded right there and threatened with confinement to his quarters if he so much as came near the gates again.

Fortunately for everyone involved, Lafayer, Priest of Latina had been visiting the keep at the time. The elderly cleric held a position that he quite liked, that of a wandering priest. It was Lafayer’s duty to wander between the various villages that were too small to have a temple of Latina. It was his duty and pleasure to be both friend and confessor to all of those in Haranshire who could not make it to the church in Milbourne. Though young enough to the Count’s son, Lafayer and the Count counted each other as friends.

Lafayer had calmed to the Count to the point of not taking action against Lyntern’s tempters. And when it had become apparent that a small group of pilgrims from Corlean were overdue, it was Lafayer who had convinced the Count to use the ‘adventurers’ in finding them. Whatever else their faults they were certainly capable.

Thus it was that on their journey back to check on Lyntern, the five companions stopped at Kupier’s farm as usual and discovered that Kestral’s and Ashimar’s plans had been discovered. Further the Count wished to talk to them about a band of missing pilgrims. Apparently the party had passed the messenger somewhere on the road.

Now the five companions were in the Count’s grand hall. Satisfied that he had their attention, Count Parlfray began speaking. “Lyntern is the sole heir to the Parlfray title and estates.” Despite his age and his anger, the old Count spoke with cold clarity. “Through him our family line will continue to watch over the lands of Haranshire as given to us by Imperial right.” The Count looked at his son. “Someday soon I hope that he will be married to some suitable girl and produce his own heirs.” A sardonic smile crossed the old man’s face. “Hopefully he’ll be able to achieve that faster than I did.” Thunderclouds appeared in the Count’s eyes and his smile disappeared. “That will not happen however if he is going on some foolish, madcap gallivanting!” He roared. “What were you thinking? He could have been killed or kidnapped by those bandits of yours.”

Kestral took a small breath and stepped forward. “It was good for him.” She started, using the same clear tones the old man had used. “He’s not going to learn much by staying cooped up in this keep.” The blond haired, blue-eyed young woman spoke with confidence and without a trace of fear as she faced the aging noble. “Experience is the best teacher, and Lyntern will gain the respect of the people faster if he actually has some.”

It was a good argument, delivered with true sincerity. Unfortunately the Count wasn’t in a mood to listen to such arguments. Perhaps it was because Kestral was a woman who hadn’t quite seen her second decade. Perhaps it was because he was being stubborn. “I don’t care what you happen to believe, young lady. It’s dangerous out there and it’s no place for my sole heir to be wandering about by himself.”

Kestral readied herself for another verbal salvo, but Kellron touched her hand lightly and she stepped back. Kellron bowed to the Count as due his rank and took up the argument. “Kestral is right, my lord.” Pressed the young, dark-haired warrior. “I’m sure Lyntern has been provided the best of everything, but it’s no substitute for actual learning. The rights of leadership include the duty to protect.” It was an old maxim, built into the very founding of the Shtaran Empire. Kellron continued speaking. “I had no knowledge of my friends conspiracy with Lyntern, but I stand by their intent that it was a good thing. Warriors are not made in keeps. They’re made in the defense of the keep.”

The old Count’s mouth quirked a bit, as if suppressing a small smile, and he gave a small ‘harumph’ as he settled himself back into his throne. “Be that as it may, it was a damn foolish thing to do.” Though still gruff, the Count’s tone was less accusing. Perhaps it was his natural charisma or maybe his archaic mannerisms, but the young champion of Sarath had made his point.

For his part Kellron only nodded in agreement with the Count’s assessment and let the noble continue to speak.

“Fortunately for all of you we have need of your services.” The Count looked at each of them in turn. “Every year a band of pilgrims make their way from Corlean through Haranshire and on to The Silver Forest. I don’t pretend to understand all the religious significance and it doesn’t matter. Three days ago the advance rider from Corlean arrived to inform us the pilgrims had started. They should have been here two days ago.” The Count’s eyes narrowed and his frown was for an entirely different reason. “It’s only a two day ride from Corlean to my keep, across a very nearly empty moor. I’ve sent a few of my guards to check up but they haven’t come back. Instead of sending more of my men I’m therefore sending you out to the moors to find out what happened to the Pilgrims and my guards.” The Count smiled grimly. “In return for your act of charity I’ll pay each of you five gold lions for each day on the road.” It was a princely sum, but the Count was obviously brooking no argument and just as obviously he wanted answers.

Ashimar spoke up next, stepping forward and bowing low before the Count. “You should let Lyntern come with us Sir.” The young street-rogue spoke plainly but with all the respect he could muster. It took no seer to predict the Count’s reaction.

“What!” The Count didn’t shout, but only because of the disbelief in his voice. “You want me to send my only heir out traipsing around the very moors that have claimed an entire caravan as well as my own guards?”

Kellron nodded. “It’s a good idea my lord.”

Kestral threw out her opinion also. “It would be good for him my lord. Whatever happened to the pilgrims is probably long gone by now. We’re just going to find out what happened.”

The count was clearly unwilling to let his only son go with the adventurers, but they pressed hard. In the end, with both Kestral’s quick wit and Kellron’s perseverance, the five companions convinced the old Count to let Lyntern go with them. In return they had to swear an oath to put Lyntern’s safety before their own. All five willingly made the oath in front of the old priest Lafayer.

 

[Seravin]

Out on the Moors

Howlers Moor got its name some three hundred odd years ago, after a large, cursed wolf-beast that claimed the entire land from the mountains to the north to the Half-Cut hills to the south. The beast’s size is of some debate, but most stories agree it was the size of small pony and had the madness and bloodlust to match its size.

It took the combined efforts of the Imperial Army, Scouts, and Wizards to track the beast down and slay it, but eventually the beast was slain. Not all stories end with the death of the beast though – or a peaceful death for that matter. Predictably some storytellers say that the Imperial Army only killed one of the cubs and that the mother of the beasts even now lays in wait in the mountains, raising more cubs before she and her spawn take their revenge on the civilized lands. Other bards claim the beast was killed, but Ruma, the Beast Lord, twisted this one too well. Its body dead, the spirit of the wolf-beast now stalks the moor it once laid claim to, helpless except on certain nights…

Regardless of the stories little grew on the plains proper except grasses and the odd copse of scrub trees; though in places one could find sweet smelling heather. Useless for most everything else some of the folk of Haranshire used the moor to let their animals graze. Fortunately for the city of Corlean, the moor eventually gave way to better farmland closer to her walls.

It was into this unfriendly plain that the five companions rode with their newest charge, Lyntern. Like a minstrel’s story the entire first day was overcast and chill, almost as if to drive home that the group was not wanted on the plain. Undeterred, the group took their time traveling up the road to Corlean, making sure to make wide swathes back and forth across the road in case there were any clues left behind.

By the time the group camped for the night the threat of the clouds turned into a light, cold drizzle, making them all uncomfortable. Kellron, taking charge, had Lyntern help set up the camp on the assumption that hard work built character. Ashimar whole-heartedly joined in with suggestion of work that Lyntern could also perform. The young nobleman bore it with stoic good grace. For the first time in his life, Lyntern was out on his own without his father’s hired guards or an entourage of any sort. The young aristocrat wasn’t going to blow it. Eventually the rain quit with an almost sullen slowness as Kellron cooked the evening meal.

Later after the meal was eaten and Lyntern was done cleaning the pot, they made their plans and told Lyntern more of their tales. Lyntern paid attention to every word, especially those of Kestral. She was only a year or two older than him, but her quick wit and easy way with words had a greater effect on the noble than being hit with a bale of hay. Half-remembered stories of nobles taking commoner brides flitted across Lyntern’s mind, but he kept them to himself. If Kestral was aware of her effect she did not mention it, treating him like a favored younger brother more than anything else.

Eventually they decided on watches. Unexpectedly, Ashimar offered to take the mid-watch with Lyntern, “To give him more experience on adventuring.” Normally the middle watch was Panther’s as his elven mother had blessed him far better night-sight then humans normally possessed.

Fortunately for all the night was uneventful, though off in the distance the howling of wolves could be heard every so often.
…

Morning came seemingly far earlier then it had any right to. Fortunately Panther held the last watch and had a small breakfast prepared as his friends woke up. It was a simple affair of toasted bread and cheese and some dried meat, but it was better than nothing. Lyntern, sore from yesterday’s exertions was glad to hear that the white-haired half-elven sorceress needed time to study her books before they ventured out. Muscles ached in the young noble’s body. Seeing the man’s soreness, Kellron had Lyntern spar with him to help loosen him up.

After Jallarzi was done studying and the small camp put away, they started their search anew. They didn’t have far to travel.

Perhaps only an hour on the trail their attention was directed to the north by a faint howling sound, closer than the wolves from the night before. Grimly the six travelers looked at each other proceeded northward along the road; loosening the straps on their weapons as they did so.

Over the next hour of riding they heard the howling twice more and each time the chilling cry was closer than before. The horses were reluctant to continue after each howl, but the riders pushed them on. Eventually Ashimar’s keen eyes spotted something strange on the horizon in the morning light, a wagon. “Over there.” Indicated Ashimar. At the same time another howl pierced the air, a much closer howl.

“Get your bows ready.” Said Kellron and Ashimar virtually at the same time. Kestral and Lyntern cocked their crossbows while Ashimar, Kellron, and Panther strung their bows. Jallarzi watched them impassively as she flexed her fingers and loosened her wrists up. Prepared, they kicked their horses forward.

A battle had been fought; they could see that in the wreckage of the wagon as they approached. One of the wheels of the wagon had been shattered and one of the side panels had been burned all the way through by something big. Food and clothing lay scattered and trampled about the ground. Whoever had attacked had no interest in what the pilgrims had been carrying.

There was a groan from behind the wagon, so faint that only Ashimar and Panther heard it. Ashimar, Lyntern, and Kestral went around the left side while Kellron, Jallarzi, and Panther took the right. Around the far side could be seen two bodies. One had been savagely hacked apart by some sword blade. The other had an equal number of wounds, but they were bandaged – sort of. The man groaned again and coughed weakly.

Ashimar was the first to dismount and quickly went to the man’s aid. The reek of festering wounds filled the air. The man, dressed in the garb of a fighter in Latina’s service, woke at his touch. “…pilgrims…taken…the red-headed man!…his eyes…they were alive, I swear…”. The burst of energy to speak seemed to drain the man of his life and he fell unconscious. By the time Kellron could get to him and utter a healing prayer it was too late, the guard was dead.

Looking around, Kellron stood up. “Lets get these bodies back to the Count. We can give them a proper burial at least.” Notably there were no bodies of the pilgrims, only the two guards.

Solemnly the rest dismounted and they gathered up the two bodies, intending to wrap them in their cloaks. They were interrupted again by another howl, this time less than a hundred feet away. Approaching from the north was a pack of two-headed dogs, slavering and snarling and snapping at the air. The coats of the beasts were a dull black, like coal and they were all the size of large mastiffs.

“Damnit!” Swore Kellron as he snatched for his bow. The others did likewise. Except for Jallarzi. Coolly she measured the distance between her and the beasts and calmly put the wagon between her and the dogs. Reaching into her component pouch she invoked a spell of sleep, managing to group five of the dogs – more than half the pack. Four of the beasts fell to her arcane spell as Kellron, Panther, Ashimar, Kestral, and Lyntern shot at the dogs. Another beast fell and the group reloaded as the remaining three dogs picked up their speed to charge. Jallarzi fired off another sleep spell dropping two more and Kellron drew his own sword and charged the remaining beast. He received a nasty bite and a part of his brain noted that the spittle of the beast was foaming. Undeterred, the champion of Sarath struck home against the beast and killed it.

There wasn’t much to do after that but to slay the sleeping beasts and then figure out how to get the slain bodies of the guards back to Parlfray Keep. Eventually they rigged up a travois for each body that would be dragged by their horses. Kellron invoked Sarath’s aid to heal his wound and was rewarded with the blessing of health. They all avoided the bodies of the dogs after making sure each one was dead.

On the ride back to the keep they discussed the day’s happenings. There was some evidence of tracks heading south-west from the wagon across the moor, but none of them were Imperial Scouts.

“They could be part of the bandits that attacked us on the river.” Note Ashimar. They headed south too. “They could be working with the orcs who attacked us there.”

Kellron and Jallarzi nodded. “We could head to the Thornwood then. But where in the wood? It’s a large tract of land.” Noted Kellron.

“I might have an idea.” Said Lyntern a little hesitantly. He was about to reveal a family secret, something he was sure his father wouldn’t approve of, but the bodies of the slain guards had sobered him quickly to the danger the pilgrims were in. “My family had a keep in the Thornwood until the time of my great-grandfather.” Lyntern looked away across the moor. “Something bad happened there. My ancestor had been away with his family, visiting relatives. When they came back they found everyone in the keep dead, strewn about like a bunch of broken dolls. The Count of the time declared the place cursed and moved everyone to a family lodge in the hills and built the new family keep there.” He looked back at his new companions. “Great-Grandfather got tired of hearing all the rumors and eventually made it illegal to ever talk about the keep.” He shrugged. “I’m new at this, but if I was taking people into the Thornwood that’s were I would take them.”

The others absorbed this new information with glee. At last they had a lead. Unfortunately Lyntern had never been to the keep himself. He had seen maps of where it use to stand though.

By the time the party reached Parlfray Keep (a little after nightfall), they had their plan. Now they just had to convince the Count.

“You want to bring my son where?” Shouted the incredulous old Count. “There’s bandits and orcs in those woods! This isn’t a simple scouting trip in open country.” The group had wasted no time in reporting what they had learned and suspected to Count Parlfray. They had then offered to set off in the morning and go directly to old keep. The count had seemed a little put out that Lyntern had given away a family secret so freely, but common sense had prevailed. What had not prevailed was the suggestion that Lyntern continue to accompany the five friends into the Thornwood itself. “Absolutely not! It’s out of the question.”

Somehow they did convince the old man though. Kellron and Ashimar and Panther continued to harp on the duties of the nobility and the value of experience while Kestral wove a net of verbal arguments so tight that a Law Speaker would have had problems unraveling.*

In the end after a very late night, Count Parlfray agreed to let his son accompany the five adventurers. In return they had to extend their oath to protect Lyntern with their lives and to present back at Parlfray Keep in seven days.

Wearily they all went to an early bed with some more satisfied than others. It was going to be an early morning for all of them.


*Did you ever notice how players can pull a 20 out of a hat when it comes right down to it. In the first instance of trying to convince the Count of their sincerity and good intentions, Kestral’s player rolled pretty poorly – like a 2 or 3. Kellron’s player turns around and takes his turn at bat and rolls like a 18 or so – enough to turn old Count friendly and amenable to the idea of his son going into reasonably non-hostile territory.
On their second meeting Kestral rolled a flat 20 against the Count who was now indifferent to her. She’s about 3rd level at this point with a +10 to her diplomacy roll. Kellron and Panther made their assist checks on that one too. I still made them work for it though.

On the other hand Kestral tends to use diplomacy the way others use their weapons. I guess the 20’s stick out more because of that.

 

[Seravin]

Some Ad-Hoc Rules

I’m still putting together the next installment, but I needed a break and wanted to post tonight….

One of the fun things about being the DM is coming up with on the spot rules and providing interpretations. I like coming up with the answers; I don’t always get it right the first time but the fun is in the trying.

Kestral’s and Panther's players with their focus on the social skills have provided more opportunity than most for this kind of fun; notably in the areas of Diplomacy and Gather Information.

By this point in the game the party is about 3rd level and closing on 4th and I was just beginning to see what happened when a character began maxing the interactive skills; but only an inkling.

It would take a few more levels and a big city adventure before I came up with some house rules and guidelines to deal with some situations that came up; posted here for your use.

1) Diplomacy: A fairly broad and open-ended skill that can lead to some silliness. Guidelines I adopted include:

a. Diplomacy requires at least 1 minute of interaction before it can be rolled.

b. Diplomacy cannot be used when the target is about to attack. (see below)

c. Diplomacy can only be used once to set the initial attitude of the target versus the character.

d. However the target’s attitude is how receptive the target is to ideas from the character. The character can make additional diplomacy checks to get the target to perform tasks, provide information, etc.

For example, Count Parlfray is unfriendly where Kestral is concerned. She’s too young and obviously too weak to be anywhere but over her head and will only get herself killed. As opposed to Kellron, who he is friendly with. However Kestral’s a bright woman and fairly charismatic. Given time and the right words, she can argue Count Parlfray into a corner where he has no choice but to agree. He may regret it later, but that’s later.

I expect this is a fairly broad interpretation, but it gives a small party some options in case of a bad roll. Note that a person who is unfriendly or hostile to the party may refuse to see the party to give them another chance to negotiate. Also note that when characters can average 15+ before the die (or make a 25 by taking 10) they can change a hostile persons attitude to indifferent and make an unfriendly person helpful. Indifferent folk (the man on the street for example) are automatically friendly.

e. Some ideas are so alien to the mindset of an NPC/Monster, that they fall in the realm of practically impossible. Of course characters can pull this off with 10 ranks in the skill and at a –20 modifier. Convincing a Vampire to go vegetarian should require a modified roll 70 (hostile to the idea and must be convinced to actively participate – which is helpful). Convincing the same vampire to drink only the blood of animals might only require getting a friendly result (modified roll of 55).

2) Charisma Checks: Characters wanting to stop a fight just as it begins must accomplish either a charisma check or a bluff check with a DC of 35 (friendly). Diplomacy cannot be used, however 5 or more ranks of diplomacy adds a +2 synergy bonus to the check.

3) Gather Information: This is the only skill I heavily modified. I don’t like that someone with 7 ranks in gather information still takes eight hours to track down a single piece of information, despite having a total Gather Information score of say +12. So instead I allow players to gather 1 itemof information per rank per day of gathering. It still costs one or two gold pieces per day per piece of information, but it’s now a little faster to get it. Of course some people might want to know why a character is asking so many questions.

edit: stupid tags and the man who edited them.

 

[Bad_English]

Please tell me you are ...

Going to post more. Usually I am in here for Blackdirge's NPC's but I have to say. Dude. Don't stop, keep the writing style, and please put this in the archives. Without doubt post a link to any other Story Hours you have.
Uh...Enough of this happy crap returning to bitter geek mode
OK avtually the Doctor is here with the Meds and today since I have been a good psychotic not so much Thorazine.

 

[Seravin]

Praise! Cool!

Thanks. I do plan on posting more, but life has been busy this last week. Hopefully by Saturday I'll have the next installment.

As for other Story Hours, this is my only one. I may eventually do a write up of my RttToEE game, but it won't be for a little while longer.

Again, thanks for the praise and enjoy the meds...

 

[Seravin]

The Thornwood

The Thornwood was mostly off limits to the folk of Haranshire by the simple reason of it being too dangerous for any rational soul to want to travel too far into its depths. Spiders were known to lair deep within, grown huge and fat off of some unknown magic within; and there were tales of darker things beyond those. So instead the folk of the county skirted the edges of the wood logging what they needed and never venturing too far. So far both the wood and the people seem to be content.

It was late in the afternoon of the third day since Lyntern had joined with the band of mercenaries. His father’s opinion of the mercenaries was mercurial, and changing which surprised the young nobleman. Normally when the old Count had made up his mind it was as if the idea was set in stone. Twice now though, these mercenaries had convinced his father to let him go with them. He wasn’t quite sure what to think, but he knew he wasn’t worried. In fact his confidence had increased for these mercenaries had made friends with Kupier, a former Imperial Scout who lived in the county. Better, upon hearing of their goal Kupier had agreed to join them. In fact the ranger was instrumental in getting them to their goal, Broken Spire Keep.

Originally called Silver Spire Keep, the fortress had been built around three hundred years ago to secure the frontier of the empire and to make a home for the Parlfray line. A little over one hundred years ago that all changed. In a single, blood-stained night the inhabitants of the keep were slain. One week later when Elman Parlfray (the then Count) and his family came back from a visit to the capital, not a living thing stirred within three miles of the keep. Even the grass surrounding the keep was yellowed as if light-starved.

The gates of the keep were locked and there was no sign of siege, but everyone in the keep had been slain by violence that night, taken seemingly unawares. The only damage to the keep proper was to the Watch Tower from which rose the silver spire that gave the keep its name. When the count and his entourage arrived, the spire and a good portion of the upper floor laid shattered and broken on the ground.

Not a fool, Elman Parlfray immediately moved his family home to a new location in the Halfcut Hills. The people remembered the old keep however, though they began to call it Broken Spire Keep, so named by one of the soldiers who first saw the devastation within. For the next two decades the locals and soldiers avoided the keep as much as possible, but there were always whispers of Broken Spire. Eventually the whispers grew so much that Elman Parlfray outlawed all mention of the keep again. Those who did so were beaten and fined. Faced with such a penalty and with no repeat of the disaster that had sundered the keep, the populace slowly began to let the past go, until eventually all mention of the keep disappeared except from certain tomes that were rarely looked at.

Now for the first time in a century a band graced with noble permission looked upon the keep from the advantage of a low ridge. In a different century the trees about the keep would have shielded it from the vantage point of the ridge. Since the fall of the keep however no form of vegetation around the keep was healthy; trees that use to stand straight and tall were now twisted and bent. To most of the companions there was nothing wrong, however Kupier perceived that the land itself was somehow wounded. He would have to tell Oleanne, the druidess.

As for the keep itself, time had touched it, but not as harshly as it could have. The keep was built in a rough square, almost a hundred feet on the side. Dark brown stone had been quarried and hauled from somewhere to build the walls to a respectable fifteen feet high. Here and there chunks of this stone had fallen and now lay scattered about the ground. The main building of the keep rose up twenty feet and took up the entire back wall. The single watchtower standing next to the main building once reached over forty feet high but was smaller now, the top ten feet of now laying at the base; the spire of silver that had given the keep its name now gone. Smaller outbuildings lined the interior of the keep’s walls, obviously providing room for guards, horses, and storage. Surprisingly the buildings, and their roofs seemed intact.

All in all it looked reasonably good for over a hundred years of abandonment. Though the field of yellow grass surrounding the keep look disturbing.

It was Ashimar’s keen eyes that spotted the movement atop the ruins of the tower first. “There.” He pointed. “A guard. He looks human.”

Kupier nodded and pointed to the gate that was closed. “Another two are standing watch there and there.”

Cautiously the seven retreated away from the ridge and into the forest and made their plans. Eventually it was decided (quite easily actually) that they would make their way down to the edge of the forest surrounding the keep. There they would wait until nightfall. Under the cover of darkness and spells and potions, Ashimar would infiltrate the keep. The young bravo was certain that he could scale the keep’s walls and tie off a rope for his friends to climb. Further, Ashimar insisted that he could climb the tower itself and silence the guard. His friends were somewhat skeptical but were willing to give him a chance. If they could get inside without anyone noticing, they could launch a devastating surprise attack. So decided the group picked their way cautiously down the ridge line and made for Broken Spire Keep.

edit: pesky grammar errors