Mortepierre
First Post
Seravin said:
Funny, that's exactly the road I went. Bio-weapon from the illithids. Then again, at this stage, my players pretty much blame everything and anything that goes wrong on the illithids...
Seravin's Tales of the Night Below (Two Updates this Week - 07/24/07)
- Thread starter Seravin
- Start date
Funny, that's exactly the road I went. Bio-weapon from the illithids. Then again, at this stage, my players pretty much blame everything and anything that goes wrong on the illithids...
Mortepierre said:
Ooof. I must have been tired and just read what you meant, and not what you wrote.
The Detect Evil goof is just additional proof that I was tired. Ah well, I've certainly been wrong before.
I think I would favor Knowledge Religion for determining if the creature is inherently evil.
And after thinking it over, I would allow Detect Evil to substitute in a pinch; especially if the creature registered moderately evil or stronger. The communication and redemption questions should act as a failsafe. Maybe. Probably.
A Defining Moment
The session started something like this:
DM: Okay, it’s the next morning. You folks are all rested. Ashimar used his remaining spells yesterday to finish healing folks and Kestral supplemented using Kellron’s cure light wounds wand.
You’ve blocked off the mouth of the cavern you’re staying in with the back wall of the hut. Something might still get in, but it would have to be flexible and determined.
What do you want to do?
Jallarzi: I’ve memorized teleport. I’d like to teleport back to the temple of Sarath with Kellron and get him raised.
Ashimar: We should give you a shopping list while you’re up there. I think you need more pearls for your identify’s and we could use some more potions. (Ashimar’s player would help Jallarzi’s player keep track of components).
Kellron’s Player: We should stock up on some better food too. Why eat rations when we can have real food now?
Miscellaneous Talk: The players discuss what they want to purchase, and more importantly what they might need to sell or trade for Kellron’s resurrection. Fortunately they have more than enough coin. Jallarzi will have to stay overnight though because she can only memorize one teleport at a time.
DM: So, where are you going to teleport too? And with anyone else?
Jallarzi: The temple of Sarath in Corlean, and just me and Kellron’s body. He’s too heavy so I can’t bring anyone else.
DM: You’ve only visited a couple times and I don’t recall that you ever spent any time memorizing the location for a teleport. Are you sure you want to teleport there?
Jallarzi: <pages flip in her PHB> Grrrr. D**n. How about the Library? I’ve been training there, it should be familiar.
DM: I’ll give you that. So, you’re teleporting to Corlean with just Kellron. You’ve got the coin you need and I heard Kestral is giving you the bag of holding with the party’s coins to convert to gems. Also, you have the shopping list. Anything else?
Jallarzi: No.
DM: Okay. <evil smile>. Roll your percentile chance and be happy that we’re not playing second edition; rolling high sucks.
<clatter>
--
Teleports to the Library at Corlean are usually to the front receiving hall in the main building. The hall is of medium size with high, vaulting ceilings. Today the walls were of dark, gray stone and the floor looked to be of well-trod flagstones.
The air shimmered briefly in the far corner and Jallarzi appeared exactly where she had envisioned with Kellron’s corpse at her side. The journey-wizard looked around and spotted two apprentices who had just entered the hall from outside. The apprentices had noticed her arrival and were beginning to realize the shape at her feet was an armored corpse.
“You!” Jallarzi pointed at the larger apprentice, a boy she recognized from her introductory few days as an apprentice (though his name escaped her). “I need a carriage to take me to the Temple of Sarath.” The apprentice, realizing that she was standing over a corpse was only staring. “Now!” Snapped the impatient journey-wizard.
The apprentice shook himself and focused on the needs of the momet. “I don’t have enough coin…” He began.
Jallarzi snarled and reached into her pouch and tossed a few golden lions his way. “I need to get him to the temple of Sarath.”
The apprentice grabbed at the coins, missing two of them. His friend helped picked them up and the two disappeared out the front door. As apprentices they were use to running errands for the journey-wizards, and this one was both comparatively easy and was going to be profitable. Plus the newest journey-wizard teleporting into the main entry with a corpse was going to make a good excuse for being late to their next class.
--
The main worship hall of Sword House is typical for its function, being a place to gather a large number of people and focusing their attention on a speaker of import. Built from the same gray stone as all the other buildings in Corlean, the worship hall is large and can seat over a three hundred men and women on its dark wooden benches. The congregation faces forward to observe an altar covered with white linen, a podium, and a massive, up-raised two-handed sword mounted on the wall over the altar.
The hall is used twice daily; once in the morning for prayer and the day’s instructions, and then again in the evening for thanks, honors, and the rememberence of those who have fallen. During the rest of the day the chamber stands mostly empty, with only two or three lay-brothers on hand to answer and advise those with questions of faith.
Some think it odd that the church of Sarath maintains a staff that is outside the command structure of the soldiers. This separate structure is for three reasons. The first is that it allows the lay-brothers (and sisters) to perform their duties without interference from the soldiers. Secondly it gives each chuch a sense of permanence and solidity. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, it allows the soldiers to work closely with the people they are mandated to protect – civilians.
The quiet of Sword House was interrupted this day when a young, white-haired woman, dressed in traveling clothes, barged into the main worship hall, followed by two soldiers bearing the body of a fallen officer. The woman scanned the hall quickly and focused on the nearest person who was wearing a brown, uniform-like tunic and trousers. The beautiful and commanding woman stalked over to the man who until the interruption had been sweeping the floor.
“Get me Colonel Megara right now.” She ordered.
Brother Gavriel started to bristle at the woman’s commanding tone. She didn’t look like a soldier but she talked like one. He recognized the body of Field Captain Kellron however and knew Colonel Megara would want to know as soon as possible. He nodded to the woman and waved the soldiers to lay out the body on one of the pews. He then hurried off into the depths of the church.
--
“Bring him back. Make him better.” Jallarzi’s tone had softened only a little when confronted with Colonel Megara, but the inflexible imperiousness was still there.
The battle-hardened priestess hadn’t been talked to like that in several years but for her own reasons, the good colonel kept her peace. “I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps tomorrow…”
“We need him today. We’re investigating the missing mages...” Interrupted the wizardess.
The forty-something year old colonel looked coolly upon the young woman who was perhaps half her age. “I understand you’re distraught young lady, but the church of Sarath normally kills people, not brings them back to life. That is the providence of the Life Taker.” The colonel paused only a moment to let it sink it, but not long enough for Jallarzi to interrupt again. “Still, I will commune with a messenger of Sarath in the morning and see if perhaps he will permit one of His soldiers to be returned, if that soldier is willing to take up the sword once again.”
Jallarzi’s shoulders relaxed just a little. “Thank you. I will come back in the morning then.”
The colonel held up her hand. “One more thing. Whether Sarath or or Vieta grants this, their messenger will require a sacrifice.”
Jallarzi’s hand strayed to the bag at her belt. “I can pay it.”
The colonel didn’t bother to tell Jallarzi that not all sacrifices were necessarily in coin. Instead she watched the woman walk out of the hall and then turned to deal with Kellron’s body. That evening she took her solace in prayer.
The session started something like this:
DM: Okay, it’s the next morning. You folks are all rested. Ashimar used his remaining spells yesterday to finish healing folks and Kestral supplemented using Kellron’s cure light wounds wand.
You’ve blocked off the mouth of the cavern you’re staying in with the back wall of the hut. Something might still get in, but it would have to be flexible and determined.
What do you want to do?
Jallarzi: I’ve memorized teleport. I’d like to teleport back to the temple of Sarath with Kellron and get him raised.
Ashimar: We should give you a shopping list while you’re up there. I think you need more pearls for your identify’s and we could use some more potions. (Ashimar’s player would help Jallarzi’s player keep track of components).
Kellron’s Player: We should stock up on some better food too. Why eat rations when we can have real food now?
Miscellaneous Talk: The players discuss what they want to purchase, and more importantly what they might need to sell or trade for Kellron’s resurrection. Fortunately they have more than enough coin. Jallarzi will have to stay overnight though because she can only memorize one teleport at a time.
DM: So, where are you going to teleport too? And with anyone else?
Jallarzi: The temple of Sarath in Corlean, and just me and Kellron’s body. He’s too heavy so I can’t bring anyone else.
DM: You’ve only visited a couple times and I don’t recall that you ever spent any time memorizing the location for a teleport. Are you sure you want to teleport there?
Jallarzi: <pages flip in her PHB> Grrrr. D**n. How about the Library? I’ve been training there, it should be familiar.
DM: I’ll give you that. So, you’re teleporting to Corlean with just Kellron. You’ve got the coin you need and I heard Kestral is giving you the bag of holding with the party’s coins to convert to gems. Also, you have the shopping list. Anything else?
Jallarzi: No.
DM: Okay. <evil smile>. Roll your percentile chance and be happy that we’re not playing second edition; rolling high sucks.
<clatter>
--
Teleports to the Library at Corlean are usually to the front receiving hall in the main building. The hall is of medium size with high, vaulting ceilings. Today the walls were of dark, gray stone and the floor looked to be of well-trod flagstones.
The air shimmered briefly in the far corner and Jallarzi appeared exactly where she had envisioned with Kellron’s corpse at her side. The journey-wizard looked around and spotted two apprentices who had just entered the hall from outside. The apprentices had noticed her arrival and were beginning to realize the shape at her feet was an armored corpse.
“You!” Jallarzi pointed at the larger apprentice, a boy she recognized from her introductory few days as an apprentice (though his name escaped her). “I need a carriage to take me to the Temple of Sarath.” The apprentice, realizing that she was standing over a corpse was only staring. “Now!” Snapped the impatient journey-wizard.
The apprentice shook himself and focused on the needs of the momet. “I don’t have enough coin…” He began.
Jallarzi snarled and reached into her pouch and tossed a few golden lions his way. “I need to get him to the temple of Sarath.”
The apprentice grabbed at the coins, missing two of them. His friend helped picked them up and the two disappeared out the front door. As apprentices they were use to running errands for the journey-wizards, and this one was both comparatively easy and was going to be profitable. Plus the newest journey-wizard teleporting into the main entry with a corpse was going to make a good excuse for being late to their next class.
--
The main worship hall of Sword House is typical for its function, being a place to gather a large number of people and focusing their attention on a speaker of import. Built from the same gray stone as all the other buildings in Corlean, the worship hall is large and can seat over a three hundred men and women on its dark wooden benches. The congregation faces forward to observe an altar covered with white linen, a podium, and a massive, up-raised two-handed sword mounted on the wall over the altar.
The hall is used twice daily; once in the morning for prayer and the day’s instructions, and then again in the evening for thanks, honors, and the rememberence of those who have fallen. During the rest of the day the chamber stands mostly empty, with only two or three lay-brothers on hand to answer and advise those with questions of faith.
Some think it odd that the church of Sarath maintains a staff that is outside the command structure of the soldiers. This separate structure is for three reasons. The first is that it allows the lay-brothers (and sisters) to perform their duties without interference from the soldiers. Secondly it gives each chuch a sense of permanence and solidity. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, it allows the soldiers to work closely with the people they are mandated to protect – civilians.
The quiet of Sword House was interrupted this day when a young, white-haired woman, dressed in traveling clothes, barged into the main worship hall, followed by two soldiers bearing the body of a fallen officer. The woman scanned the hall quickly and focused on the nearest person who was wearing a brown, uniform-like tunic and trousers. The beautiful and commanding woman stalked over to the man who until the interruption had been sweeping the floor.
“Get me Colonel Megara right now.” She ordered.
Brother Gavriel started to bristle at the woman’s commanding tone. She didn’t look like a soldier but she talked like one. He recognized the body of Field Captain Kellron however and knew Colonel Megara would want to know as soon as possible. He nodded to the woman and waved the soldiers to lay out the body on one of the pews. He then hurried off into the depths of the church.
--
“Bring him back. Make him better.” Jallarzi’s tone had softened only a little when confronted with Colonel Megara, but the inflexible imperiousness was still there.
The battle-hardened priestess hadn’t been talked to like that in several years but for her own reasons, the good colonel kept her peace. “I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps tomorrow…”
“We need him today. We’re investigating the missing mages...” Interrupted the wizardess.
The forty-something year old colonel looked coolly upon the young woman who was perhaps half her age. “I understand you’re distraught young lady, but the church of Sarath normally kills people, not brings them back to life. That is the providence of the Life Taker.” The colonel paused only a moment to let it sink it, but not long enough for Jallarzi to interrupt again. “Still, I will commune with a messenger of Sarath in the morning and see if perhaps he will permit one of His soldiers to be returned, if that soldier is willing to take up the sword once again.”
Jallarzi’s shoulders relaxed just a little. “Thank you. I will come back in the morning then.”
The colonel held up her hand. “One more thing. Whether Sarath or or Vieta grants this, their messenger will require a sacrifice.”
Jallarzi’s hand strayed to the bag at her belt. “I can pay it.”
The colonel didn’t bother to tell Jallarzi that not all sacrifices were necessarily in coin. Instead she watched the woman walk out of the hall and then turned to deal with Kellron’s body. That evening she took her solace in prayer.
There are a few game sessions that stay with a person over the years. For me, this is one of them.
Watching Jallarzi's player work through the dangers of teleport for the first time was fun.
Hearing her order the second in command of a warrior temple was... bemusing. It was a pure Jallarzi moment.
It was fun.
Watching Jallarzi's player work through the dangers of teleport for the first time was fun.
Hearing her order the second in command of a warrior temple was... bemusing. It was a pure Jallarzi moment.
It was fun.
Sounds of War
Kestral sat crosslegged on her bunk inside their portable cottage. Jallarzi would be gone for a day or two, so it was just her, Ashimar, and Tore. Normally Kestral would be talking with both or either of them, but today no one was feeling very talkative.
Ashimar was sitting at the table in the corner, alternately reading the book of imperial law that Colonel Megara had given him, cleaning his sword and armor, and occasionally quietly invoking prayers to Sarath. Ashimar had seen Kellron die once before and come back to tell the tale. How the latest death affected him was between him and Sarath.
Tore was a contrast to the thief turned priest. Sitting crosslegged on her bunk, she was a study in stillness while she meditated. Unlike Ashimar’s quiet acceptance Tore had been obviously shaken by Kellron’s death, and she still didn’t quite believe Kestral’s and Jallarzi’s assurances that Kellron would be as good as new. Miracles on that order were not common-place. So for now the witch mediated.
Which left herself looking at the cold, gray metal sword lying upon her lap. The short-blade was stark in its simplicity, unmarred by any scrape, scratch or mark, save the runes imprinted upon the tang. ‘Thereval’ in elvish. ‘MINE’ in the imperial translation. No one in Corlean had known of that maker’s mark, and the smith’s who had seen it had claimed it wasn’t even elvish work.
Jallarzi had said that the sword was of the strongest magics, equal to the Water King’s ring, though the magic was of a transmutational sort. The wizardess couldn’t tell more; for the blade resisted any magical identification she could apply.
It was the key to a puzzle, but the puzzle was missing. Kestral had found a way to poke at it though, using the bits of knowledge she had picked up over the years: The mediation techniques of witches, half-heard from her youth; obscure fragments from books casually perused over the last year; and a little knowledge gleaned from listening to Jallarzi as she muttered over her books each night. In short, Kestral was blindly probing the sword in every half-baked measure she could possibly imagine.
Needless to say Kestral was quite imaginative and her blind stabs in the dark had proven successful. Yesterday in desperation she had called up some white radiance which that had burned the aberrant creature. Now she was going to try and see what else she could discover.
Kestral wrapped her hand around Thereval’s hilt and closed her eyes. Unconsciously mimicking Tore, Kestral slowed her breathing just a bit and invoked a small prayer to the gods as she tried to ‘will’ something to happen.
--
It was like dreaming again; or a close equivalent. Things had been different; the songs of battle had ended, replaced with the change and the solitude. That was the time of memory, reverie, and sleep; the time of waiting for the next transforatmion to come along.
The waiting was ended with companionship replacing solitude, though not the sort it would have picked. The effects of the last change was still upon it however and the voice that had sung the chorus of a thousand battles was gone.
This new companion was a gray shadow, made all the darker by her sword-companion’s flames. The shadow would have been unsuitable in the times before; but now it was sole spark that tried to reach out (no matter how blindly) through the loneliness.
So now was the time of redefining and of inspiration. When the gray shadow reached for the light it would teach her all the songs of battle. In time she would be part of the light and flare as bright as any star. It was the least it could do to repay her gift of companionship.
--
There was the sound of steel on steel in the far distance and Ashimar looked up. The sound was all wrong, it had sounded far away, but not muffled like the walls would have done. The priest strained his senses trying to fix the sound.
And then Kestral’s sword began to vibrate; began to sing a song a war. It started low and rhythmic, like the marching of a regiment. Thump..Thump..Thump.. Slowly the volume increased and the sound of metal against metal could be heard between the deep sounds. Finally the sword began to hum. If Panther had still been around he would have described it as a choir of soldiers marching to some celestial aria.
Kestral opened her eyes and stared at the sword with a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction. Another puzzle piece; hopefully it would fit with something.
Kestral sat crosslegged on her bunk inside their portable cottage. Jallarzi would be gone for a day or two, so it was just her, Ashimar, and Tore. Normally Kestral would be talking with both or either of them, but today no one was feeling very talkative.
Ashimar was sitting at the table in the corner, alternately reading the book of imperial law that Colonel Megara had given him, cleaning his sword and armor, and occasionally quietly invoking prayers to Sarath. Ashimar had seen Kellron die once before and come back to tell the tale. How the latest death affected him was between him and Sarath.
Tore was a contrast to the thief turned priest. Sitting crosslegged on her bunk, she was a study in stillness while she meditated. Unlike Ashimar’s quiet acceptance Tore had been obviously shaken by Kellron’s death, and she still didn’t quite believe Kestral’s and Jallarzi’s assurances that Kellron would be as good as new. Miracles on that order were not common-place. So for now the witch mediated.
Which left herself looking at the cold, gray metal sword lying upon her lap. The short-blade was stark in its simplicity, unmarred by any scrape, scratch or mark, save the runes imprinted upon the tang. ‘Thereval’ in elvish. ‘MINE’ in the imperial translation. No one in Corlean had known of that maker’s mark, and the smith’s who had seen it had claimed it wasn’t even elvish work.
Jallarzi had said that the sword was of the strongest magics, equal to the Water King’s ring, though the magic was of a transmutational sort. The wizardess couldn’t tell more; for the blade resisted any magical identification she could apply.
It was the key to a puzzle, but the puzzle was missing. Kestral had found a way to poke at it though, using the bits of knowledge she had picked up over the years: The mediation techniques of witches, half-heard from her youth; obscure fragments from books casually perused over the last year; and a little knowledge gleaned from listening to Jallarzi as she muttered over her books each night. In short, Kestral was blindly probing the sword in every half-baked measure she could possibly imagine.
Needless to say Kestral was quite imaginative and her blind stabs in the dark had proven successful. Yesterday in desperation she had called up some white radiance which that had burned the aberrant creature. Now she was going to try and see what else she could discover.
Kestral wrapped her hand around Thereval’s hilt and closed her eyes. Unconsciously mimicking Tore, Kestral slowed her breathing just a bit and invoked a small prayer to the gods as she tried to ‘will’ something to happen.
--
It was like dreaming again; or a close equivalent. Things had been different; the songs of battle had ended, replaced with the change and the solitude. That was the time of memory, reverie, and sleep; the time of waiting for the next transforatmion to come along.
The waiting was ended with companionship replacing solitude, though not the sort it would have picked. The effects of the last change was still upon it however and the voice that had sung the chorus of a thousand battles was gone.
This new companion was a gray shadow, made all the darker by her sword-companion’s flames. The shadow would have been unsuitable in the times before; but now it was sole spark that tried to reach out (no matter how blindly) through the loneliness.
So now was the time of redefining and of inspiration. When the gray shadow reached for the light it would teach her all the songs of battle. In time she would be part of the light and flare as bright as any star. It was the least it could do to repay her gift of companionship.
--
There was the sound of steel on steel in the far distance and Ashimar looked up. The sound was all wrong, it had sounded far away, but not muffled like the walls would have done. The priest strained his senses trying to fix the sound.
And then Kestral’s sword began to vibrate; began to sing a song a war. It started low and rhythmic, like the marching of a regiment. Thump..Thump..Thump.. Slowly the volume increased and the sound of metal against metal could be heard between the deep sounds. Finally the sword began to hum. If Panther had still been around he would have described it as a choir of soldiers marching to some celestial aria.
Kestral opened her eyes and stared at the sword with a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction. Another puzzle piece; hopefully it would fit with something.
There's a new Night Below story hour on the boards, from the perspective of a player it looks like. I like the style. You can find it here: http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?p=2282821#post2282821
Another Day, Another Death
No matter the method, death is always ugly; but those who survive the deceased can sometimes take comfort if some bit of glory was attached to the passing. Dying in the defense of loved ones is certainly one way to attain the glory that comforts and inspires the living. Dying in the midst of performing one’s duty is another way.
--
Jallarzi had returned the night before with Kellron, both carrying a pile of foodstuffs and other miscellaneous items for their friends. There was rejoicing at the return of their fallen friend and they passed the night with quiet friendship and warm food. In the morning the five companions set out again, heading further down the long corridor towards the diregund and the city of the Glass Pool.
--
They heard the sounds before they saw the creatures; heavy footfalls against the cold gray stone of the tunnel floor. It sounded like a troop of ogres, but when the creatures came into sight it turned out to be only two beings, each half-again as tall as any ogre with the form and feature of a human. The creatures were dressed in ragged, leathery skins and carried crude clubs made from thick stalagmites ripped up from the ground. Tied to their belts were thick, dirty looking bags made out of the same leather as their clothes, and heavy with weight.
Cave giants. None of them had seen one before outside of a picture book, but they were easy enough to identify. Kestral tried calling out in the broken giant she had gleaned from the many handbooks she had picked up, but the creatures ignored her. Or rather, the giants ignored the words and snarled something about "get the food". Reaching into their sacks the giants each pulled out a rock the size of a man’s head and made ready to throw. Seeing the state of relations, the five companions pulled their own weapons free and the fight began.
It wasn’t a long fight as these things go. Cave giants are known to come in many sizes, but at their simplest they are really nothing but bigger and stronger ogres. That’s almost certainly what Ashimar was thinking as he rushed in knowing that he was going to have to cross through the creature’s greater reach before he could bring his own blade to bear.
The first hit was a lucky shot on the part of the giant. Ashimar caught it in the chest even as he tried to dodge aside*. His ribs crying out at the abuse, the priest of Sarath continued his charge and stabbed at his opponent. It was a good stroke, but the hide and muscle on the giant was thick and Ashimar knew he would have to make many more like it while his opponent only needed a couple more like that first one.
Ashimar was only partly right. The giant brought his club up and around again, still amazingly fast, and clocked the priest again**. This time sometime inside gave, but before he could shout out the giant followed up with a second swing of his club. It hit too, albeit compared to the last two hits it was only a glancing blow; but it was enough. Ashimar crumpled, his armor caved in about his chest and his neck bent at an unnatural angle.
The others, Kellron, Jallarzi, Kestral, and Tore paused in shock for a moment and then grimly took up the fight again. It was over quickly, though no one remembered the details clearly after the fight. It was with a heavy heart that the four survivors backtracked to a side cavern a little ways behind them. In the morning Jallarzi would make another trip to Corlean and Colonel Megara would make everything better.
--
Two days later…
Jallarzi stood in main worship hall of Sword House. Colonel Megara was before her, attended by two other priests dressed in ceremonial whites. The wizardess was looking bewildered.
“Where’s Ashiamr?” She asked, scanning the hall.
“I’m sorry Jallarzi. We couldn’t bring him back.”
The news stunned the young half-elf and she rocked back as if slapped.
Colonel Megara bowed her head in sorrow for a moment and then steeled herself, meeting the woman’s eyes. “We do however recognize the importance of your mission and I’d like to offer Lieutenant Jared here as a replacement.” Her arm swept to the priest at her right, a young man with dark hair and eyes looking closer to thirty then Ashimar’s eighteen.
“He has long been with the church and has both combat experience as well as the grace of Sarath.”
Jallarzi stood quietly for a moment, not really hearing what Megara was saying. “I’ll take him with me.” She said almost distantly. “But we’ll have to see what the others say.”
Colonel Megara nodded. “Jared will be ready inside of the hour.”
Jallarzi nodded.
The young wizardess was not much of a people-person; not like Kestral or Kellron. If she had been then she might have noticed the Colonel’s use of words or her look of relief at Jallarzi’s acceptance of the situation.
Colonel Megara was very unhappy and not just because she had to bury a promising new soldier. The priestess of the Order of the Victorious Dragons had just found out that the soul of her newest priest was missing and she didn’t know where it was. Perhaps she should have told Jallarzi, but Kellron and his friends had more important things to do right now. The Colonel was resolved to try and find her own answers first and let Kellron and his friends find theirs.
--
*Critical hit.
**2nd critical hit followed by a normal hit. I’m not a 100% certain after all this time but I think he went to negative twenty something in the space of two rounds.
No matter the method, death is always ugly; but those who survive the deceased can sometimes take comfort if some bit of glory was attached to the passing. Dying in the defense of loved ones is certainly one way to attain the glory that comforts and inspires the living. Dying in the midst of performing one’s duty is another way.
--
Jallarzi had returned the night before with Kellron, both carrying a pile of foodstuffs and other miscellaneous items for their friends. There was rejoicing at the return of their fallen friend and they passed the night with quiet friendship and warm food. In the morning the five companions set out again, heading further down the long corridor towards the diregund and the city of the Glass Pool.
--
They heard the sounds before they saw the creatures; heavy footfalls against the cold gray stone of the tunnel floor. It sounded like a troop of ogres, but when the creatures came into sight it turned out to be only two beings, each half-again as tall as any ogre with the form and feature of a human. The creatures were dressed in ragged, leathery skins and carried crude clubs made from thick stalagmites ripped up from the ground. Tied to their belts were thick, dirty looking bags made out of the same leather as their clothes, and heavy with weight.
Cave giants. None of them had seen one before outside of a picture book, but they were easy enough to identify. Kestral tried calling out in the broken giant she had gleaned from the many handbooks she had picked up, but the creatures ignored her. Or rather, the giants ignored the words and snarled something about "get the food". Reaching into their sacks the giants each pulled out a rock the size of a man’s head and made ready to throw. Seeing the state of relations, the five companions pulled their own weapons free and the fight began.
It wasn’t a long fight as these things go. Cave giants are known to come in many sizes, but at their simplest they are really nothing but bigger and stronger ogres. That’s almost certainly what Ashimar was thinking as he rushed in knowing that he was going to have to cross through the creature’s greater reach before he could bring his own blade to bear.
The first hit was a lucky shot on the part of the giant. Ashimar caught it in the chest even as he tried to dodge aside*. His ribs crying out at the abuse, the priest of Sarath continued his charge and stabbed at his opponent. It was a good stroke, but the hide and muscle on the giant was thick and Ashimar knew he would have to make many more like it while his opponent only needed a couple more like that first one.
Ashimar was only partly right. The giant brought his club up and around again, still amazingly fast, and clocked the priest again**. This time sometime inside gave, but before he could shout out the giant followed up with a second swing of his club. It hit too, albeit compared to the last two hits it was only a glancing blow; but it was enough. Ashimar crumpled, his armor caved in about his chest and his neck bent at an unnatural angle.
The others, Kellron, Jallarzi, Kestral, and Tore paused in shock for a moment and then grimly took up the fight again. It was over quickly, though no one remembered the details clearly after the fight. It was with a heavy heart that the four survivors backtracked to a side cavern a little ways behind them. In the morning Jallarzi would make another trip to Corlean and Colonel Megara would make everything better.
--
Two days later…
Jallarzi stood in main worship hall of Sword House. Colonel Megara was before her, attended by two other priests dressed in ceremonial whites. The wizardess was looking bewildered.
“Where’s Ashiamr?” She asked, scanning the hall.
“I’m sorry Jallarzi. We couldn’t bring him back.”
The news stunned the young half-elf and she rocked back as if slapped.
Colonel Megara bowed her head in sorrow for a moment and then steeled herself, meeting the woman’s eyes. “We do however recognize the importance of your mission and I’d like to offer Lieutenant Jared here as a replacement.” Her arm swept to the priest at her right, a young man with dark hair and eyes looking closer to thirty then Ashimar’s eighteen.
“He has long been with the church and has both combat experience as well as the grace of Sarath.”
Jallarzi stood quietly for a moment, not really hearing what Megara was saying. “I’ll take him with me.” She said almost distantly. “But we’ll have to see what the others say.”
Colonel Megara nodded. “Jared will be ready inside of the hour.”
Jallarzi nodded.
The young wizardess was not much of a people-person; not like Kestral or Kellron. If she had been then she might have noticed the Colonel’s use of words or her look of relief at Jallarzi’s acceptance of the situation.
Colonel Megara was very unhappy and not just because she had to bury a promising new soldier. The priestess of the Order of the Victorious Dragons had just found out that the soul of her newest priest was missing and she didn’t know where it was. Perhaps she should have told Jallarzi, but Kellron and his friends had more important things to do right now. The Colonel was resolved to try and find her own answers first and let Kellron and his friends find theirs.
--
*Critical hit.
**2nd critical hit followed by a normal hit. I’m not a 100% certain after all this time but I think he went to negative twenty something in the space of two rounds.
That was story post #100 for those keeping count (like me). Yay.
This session was a bit of a shocker for me.
What stands out most was how fast Ashimar seemed to fall. He charged out ahead of everyone and met the giants head on.
In retrospect I'm not sure if it was a calculated risk, boredom-induced-suicide, or just pig-headed determination gone wrong. The player is certainly capable of all three, sometimes at the same time. Or so I grok, it could have been something else.
At any rate, at the end of the fight the player decided to bring in a new character, a priest this time. As it was easier to make him a priest of Sarath he decided to go that route.
So, we introduce Lieutenant Jared, Cleric 9, with the Good and War domains. He has good strength, constitution, and wisdom, and average everything else. Jared is the seasoned, confident veteran to Ashimar's promising, young recruit.
Jared is a bit grim in the first few months, taking his job seriously. Unfortunately his reception is a bit cool. Kellron ends up liking Jared the least, accepting the man because of necesseity but not able to accept his newest friend's death. Jared was only a fellow soldier while Ashimar had been like a brother.
There was some interesting tension.
This session was a bit of a shocker for me.
What stands out most was how fast Ashimar seemed to fall. He charged out ahead of everyone and met the giants head on.
In retrospect I'm not sure if it was a calculated risk, boredom-induced-suicide, or just pig-headed determination gone wrong. The player is certainly capable of all three, sometimes at the same time. Or so I grok, it could have been something else.
At any rate, at the end of the fight the player decided to bring in a new character, a priest this time. As it was easier to make him a priest of Sarath he decided to go that route.
So, we introduce Lieutenant Jared, Cleric 9, with the Good and War domains. He has good strength, constitution, and wisdom, and average everything else. Jared is the seasoned, confident veteran to Ashimar's promising, young recruit.
Jared is a bit grim in the first few months, taking his job seriously. Unfortunately his reception is a bit cool. Kellron ends up liking Jared the least, accepting the man because of necesseity but not able to accept his newest friend's death. Jared was only a fellow soldier while Ashimar had been like a brother.
There was some interesting tension.
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