Sins of Our Fathers - 2/10 - Final Update

[Destan]

Metagame post

[1] Real quick - Just to clear up any confusion that may be out there, the last two updates are not in chronological order. That is to say: Poridel sent the party north from Ciddry and then had his little run-in with the Cyric and the assassin.

Two of my players were somewhat confused, and if they're confused - and they were there - then chances are some of you other readers may be confused as well.

Sorry about that.

[2] Now seems as good a time as any to let you in on a little shameful secret from our Valusian campaign. Remember the fight with Baphtemet wherein Amelyssan directed his flaming sphere so brilliantly so as to awaken his sleeping companion Kellus? That happened as I wrote it, but there was a gross violation of our "house rules" to make it so.

In the Valusian campaign we have something called "cookies". If a PC does something incredibly heroic or roleplays an encounter extremely well, he may receive a "cookie" - which is worth 100 XP * Character Level. This instance I'm now relating was the only time I ever took away a cookie.

Baden's player - Josh - was out of the fight. Baden had run from Baphy's fear spell. Vath was gone, so too was Raylin. Kellus and John were in a magical slumber. The only player left at the table whose character could speak and act was Amelyssan's.

The initiative came to Amelyssan's player and he sat there in thought. The encounter had gone badly for the group, obviously. We were looking at a pogre-class TPK. That was when Baden's player suggested Amelyssan burn Kellus or John to wake them up, since the flaming sphere obviously didn't work against Baphy.

Amelyssan did, Baphy died, Baden's player lost a cookie for "tabletalk".

I think it only fair to note that there was a decent chance of Amelyssan slaying Baphtemet without such a wonderful use of his spell. He had an obscenely high AC at the time due to arcane buffs, and was decent with the longsword. Chances are that he may have survived long enough to get in a blow on the badly wounded demon. If he were lucky enough to do enough damage to defeat the DR, the party may have achieved victory that way, as well.

Anyway - hope this clears up some confusion and sheds light on what really happened around the gaming table. I can't allow these players to look too clever!

As always, thanks for reading, for posting, for questioning, and for commenting.

You folks make my day, repeatedly.

D

 

[Avarice]

Metagame post

[1] Real quick - Just to clear up any confusion that may be out there, the last two updates are not in chronological order. That is to say: Poridel sent the party north from Ciddry and then had his little run-in with the Cyric and the assassin.

Two of my players were somewhat confused, and if they're confused - and they were there - then chances are some of you other readers may be confused as well.

Sorry about that.

<snip>

And here I'd been thinking you'd cleverly replaced him with a doppelganger, and that his lackey was leading the party to their doom. But I guess Dog t'not such a bad guy after all.

 

[Caliber]

And here I'd been thinking you'd cleverly replaced him with a doppelganger, and that his lackey was leading the party to their doom. But I guess Dog t'not such a bad guy after all.

That was my guess. Or that not in order thing. Yeah.

Awesome story. Theres something about nasty wolf-thingies that always inspires me. I kinda hope they don't get away!

 

[Destan]

Of Wolven and Sheep


Throughout it all, the howling was incessant.

Kellus half-walked and half-slid down the slope, mud fountaining behind him. He had had enough of this running – they all had. There’s something horribly demoralizing about being chased, about knowing there’s something or someone behind you that wants you dead. Battle is not easy, certainly, but at least you’re face-to-face with your opponent; closure, whether for good or ill, is at hand.

That’s the difference, Kellus thought, I never have much time to think during combat. But I have all the time in the world now. He stopped at the bottom of the gully, placed both hands on his knees, and sucked in huge gasps of air.

Kellus watched as Baden came tumbling – literally – down the slippery fold. The Rhelmsman extended a hand and helped the dwarf to his feet. A few moments passed – and all moments wherein they weren’t moving seemed to last an eternity – before Dog Bigby appeared upon the crest and began his own, more-controlled descent.

Their guide, Kellus noted, wasn’t even winded. “How does-” A wheezing cough exploded from Kellus’ chest and forced him to take a moment. He swallowed, spat, and ran a hand across his bald pate. “How does it look?”

“T’not good,” Bigby answered. The big man studied the rearward ridgeline. If he had other thoughts, he kept them to himself.

“Onward, then,” Baden said, his voice still strong. The dwarf, despite the weight of his black armor, seemed in remarkably good shape.

And move they did, albeit more slowly. Indeed, Kellus thought, our pace slackens with each pause. It will not be long now. He looked toward Lady Mavis. Raylin and Vath were practically carrying the woman between the two of them. Kellus was amazed she had endured this long, and with little complaint.

Her henchman, however, was an all together different story. Huarto seemed to have spent the past four years within a tavern’s common room, and his body now protested the abuse.

Kellus watched without sympathy as the thin mercenary dry-heaved amber fluid onto the dying weeds. “Done? Good – now move.”

Huarto glanced upward at him with tearing, pleading eyes. “I canna do it.”

Kellus looked past the doubled-over man at the fleeing party. There was no time for caring. In this world, when had there ever been? “Then drop to your knees, Huarto.” Kellus hefted his mace.

The man apparently still possessed enough energy to appear horrified. “N-No!”

“Then let the wolven do it,” Kellus shrugged with indifference. “Though I doubt they’ll be as quick about it.” On cue, the howling – always closer – grew shrill.

The man clutched at Kellus’ cloak as the priest pushed past him. Kellus wordlessly helped him to his feet, shoved him in the right direction, and followed in his wake.

Through the ground fog, perhaps a half mile distant, Kellus saw a sinuous, black ribbon that could only be the Dusk Ford. Its banks had been overrun by the churning waters – swollen and angry from the recent rainfall. As Kellus stumbled toward the water, Bigby helping him maintain his balance, the priest had to chuckle. He looked to their guide. “If that’s the ford, we’re dead men.”

Bigby winked. “That’s the ford. And we been dead men since first settin’ off last night.”

At that precise moment, the howling ceased.

***

John flung mud from his hands and eyed Bigby where he stood near Kellus. The bard was supporting Amelyssan; the elf had not uttered a word of complaint, but his pallor was ashen, his eyes sunken. “Bigby! They stopped. Are we safe-”

“No,” Bigby murmured, though only Kellus could hear, “now we are dead.”

Their guide drew a hand-and-a-half sword from the sheath upon his back. “The water’s high, friends. You’ll need to remove your armor. Get to it.”

Baden's face seemed to wrestle with conflicting emotions. Bigby pierced him with a stare. “'Tis your armor, stump, or your life.” For a fleeting moment, Baden’s face twisted into a mask of rage not wholly his own. Yet, it passed quickly enough, and the Axemarch dwarf nodded before beginning to unbuckle his greaves.

“I will not cross that! We're certain to drown.” Mavis placed one hand on her hip and lectured Bigby as if he were a wayward child. “You must be mad!”

“I know.” Bigby walked past her without a second glance, studied the ground, and seemed to find a patch to his liking.

Mavis, finally, broke. She tore off her cloak and threw it into the water at her feet. “’Tis them they want, anyway!” She combed her hair with shaking fingers, eyes wide. “Huarto! Lead on.”

Huarto had taken the opportunity, while the others were removing their armor, to lay spread-eagled upon the ground. He rolled to his side with effort. “M-milady?”

Mavis pointed eastward, away from the ford. “They will not follow-”

Her words stopped with a gurgle. It was hard to talk, after all, with a half-troll’s hand wrapped about your throat.

Vath held the woman by her neck, his arm unbent. Mavis’ feet kicked futilely a full pace above the turf.

Huarto scrambled to his feet, grabbing the hilt of his longsword with one hand. Raylin, his own swords sheathed, arched a brow. “I’d think again before drawing steel against the half-troll, friend. I’d think real hard.”

Huarto, for all his faults, wasn’t stupid. He removed his hand, slowly, and took a few steps backward.

Kellus purposefully walked forward, breastplate hanging from one last strap, and laid a hand on Vath’s shoulder. “Easy, friend, easy. You’re killing her.”

“I know.”

“If she dies, we learn nothing.” Kellus removed his hand and walked to put Mavis between the two of them. “Nothing, Brother Vath.”

After a long, long time thinking, Vath lowered his arm. He relaxed his grip only enough so that Mavis could breathe. The woman’s face began to lose its bluish tint. She vomited onto the half-troll’s forearm, but Vath ignored the bodily fluid.

Kellus stepped forward, aware time was short. “Mavis – listen to me, and listen well. We have no time. If you hesitate, you will die.” The priest shot an unnecessary glance toward Vath before continuing. “You said – ‘Tis them they want’ – what did you mean?”

Mavis shook her head, tears streaming from her eyes. “I do not…” Her voice collapsed into a choking sob. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Let her go, Vath.” Kellus measured his half-troll companion with an even stare.

Vath, after but a moment’s hesitation, released his grip. He turned without further comment and made his way toward the water’s edge.

Mavis rubbed at the welts on her neck. She looked at Kellus with an odd mix of emotions – both appreciation and hatred. “I suppose…I suppose you want my thanks.”

“No,” Kellus unclasped his breastplate. “I want nothing of the kind.” The priest drew his mace, turned away from Mavis, and let his eyes drift across the southern ridgeline. He did not watch her as she picked her way through the mud, away from the party, away from the ford, alone.

***

Bigby joined him. “Women.”

“Women,” Kellus echoed. The two men watched Mavis disappear behind a bank of thorns. “Think she’ll make it?”

“No.”

“Do we have time to cross, Bigby?”

Their guide ignored his question. Instead, he swept about one arm in a large half-circle. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, friend. Them wolven, they ain’t been chasin’ us. No, sir.”

“Then what have they been doing?”

“Herding us - like dogs with sheep.” Bigby smiled as if he admired such tactics. “Told ya – they be smart bastards.”

Kellus stared hard at Bigby for a moment, then turned to look at his companions. There they stood, not one of them – not even Baden – wearing armor. A horrifying sense of hopelessness washed over him.

He thought of all the places they might have stopped to make a stand. Good, defensible places. He thought of how he may have paused to pray to Helm – how some of his divine gifts may have better served their evasion. He recalled how John suggested they take to the trees, spread out the missile weapons to those that could use them.

He thought of many, many things they could have done – should have done.

But then, of course, the wolven came - exactly when and where they had intended.

And Kellus no longer had time to think.

 

[Cinerarium]

Wow Destan! Great post!

I'd wondered what you'd mentioned in passing about Frostrune's talking out at the table! Heh, good to know.

Keep up the daily updates! And get some sleep! We dads have to stick together.

 

[Lela]

Holy crap and a half batman. Edge of my seat time here Destan. I hope you don't make us wait too long.

My group does what you call "Tabletalk" constantly. But we're really not a group filled with extremely experienced players. Don't get me wrong, we generally have a good idea of what we're doing. It's just that we often aren't fully aware of what our spells can do or what effect actions will have on the rest of combat. As a result we bust out with suggestions all around. We give advice to everyone and I, though I'm DM, am not above joining in.

Perhaps I'll consider imposing the "Tabletalk" rule for two or three sessions when the next campaign starts. Just to force them to get to know their characters and abilities pritty well. After that I'll relax and let it go on as it has. Maybe if they have a firm grasp of what they can do at lower level it won't seem such a challange to add new things on as they get more powerful.

 

[Alejandro]

What an AWESOME update.

That Bigby: such a rat bastard! I can't believe he convinced everyone to take off their armor.

That Destan: such a rat bastard! I can't believe he successfully distracted the PCs with a panicked woman and caused them to fritter away precious time! Bravo!

 

[Karrisbane]

That Bigby: such a rat bastard! I can't believe he convinced everyone to take off their armor.

Nah. He's not a traitor. We had to decide, as a group, whether it was worth the gamble of unbuckling armor in the hopes of fording the river before the wolven arrived. We decided it was.

We have since deemed that a "poor decision."

Actually, Dog Bigby FORCED the woman to leave in an attempt to save us. Due to her...uniqueness...in this group of travelers, she was producing a...scent...that the wolven found...attractive. But Destan thought that might be too R-rated for the boards. Certainly, as a non-storyteller, I can dance around the issue more deftly.

Anyway, Dog's a solid guy.

Fitz
a.k.a. Amelyssan

 

[Tellerve]

Is it just me or did anyone else get a twing of feeling that Bigby is not on the up and up? I originally thought that, but sorta flip-flopped to the other side. But that last bit, it seems quite the RBDM thing to do, to have them be exhausted from a hard run, get to a river and tell them they should get out of their armor, just to have them get slaughtered by their guide and his wolfen friends.

*shrugs* maybe I'm wrong, but it seems to me that I'd be swimming across that river really quickly after getting off my armor. No sense in sitting around unarmored ya know?

Tellerve

p.s. Hey Cin, how's the wee one?

 

[pogre]

No inside information here, but I get the feeling dog is an exception to the rule: Never trust a Destan-made NPC. Exceptions prove the rule remember