Lars Frehse
First Post
I think I will be able to post an update on monday or tuesday. Today we will play (After two weeks interruption- YAY)
Struggle and Strife- A scarred lands storyhour
- Thread starter Lars Frehse
- Start date
TD here.
Good stuff, Lars.
I am using some Scarred Lands schtuff in my campaign, and I think I may be stealing, err, uhm, borrowing some ideas.
And your English is impeccable. I only wish my written German could come close to your skill with English. Looking forward to more...
Good stuff, Lars.
I am using some Scarred Lands schtuff in my campaign, and I think I may be stealing, err, uhm, borrowing some ideas.And your English is impeccable. I only wish my written German could come close to your skill with English. Looking forward to more...
Lars Frehse
First Post
Chapter 3: The squirrel and the scorched ones (Part1)
The squirrel and the scorched ones
Years passed and even though the refugees tried to keep in touch, they never managed to get all five of them together again.
Yet, on the first of Tanot in 150, it was time for Morte to get fully accepted among the ranks of the Fists of Mithril. The boy had grown to be a dark and thin man, and after his master, Brother William, had fulfilled the little ritual, and Morte took up his monastrial name of “Niklas”, they both went up to a nearby hill that was a common meeting spot for the citizens of Durrover.
As they went up the hill, Niklas once again looked at the familiar face of his master. He was greyhaired and had steelblue eyes that sparkled with intelligence and humor and under his high cheekbones, there were, as always, small wrinkles at the edge of his mouth, as if he was constantly trying to hold back a radiant smile and losing the battle.
It was brother William who had taken the young man under his wing, when it turned out, that in spite of his fervant worship of Corean, he wan’t quite Paladin material. And it turned out that he made a much better monk then anybody could have hoped for.
Now, they had reached the meeting spot on the hill and there, to his surprise, Niklas saw that his master had summoned all his old friends:
There was Jan, who had stayed with the Paladins and was now proudly bearing the insignia of a Paladin of Corean.
Next to him, unpacking food and wine was Torn. No more a little boy, the Half Orc was now the height of Niklas’s brother while being the double in width. Even though he was the youngest of them, he already had some scars and a broken nose. After he got expelled from the militia, he had turned to a life on the street, making his fortune among the criminals and outcast.
And then, there were Ben and Trepat. Both hadn’t changed much since they had escorted the kids out of Oreirover, even though they had both found their destinies: The Elf had become a sorceror and the halfling an Incarnate.
They all greeted each other heartily, for even though their paths had gone their separate ways, they had managed to stay friends throughout the years.
After a while of food and wine, brother William raised his voice: “I am really glad you all were able to make it here. Not only is it a great day for Novice Niklas, but I also have work for you!”
“Some of you know that I am not only a faithful monk of corean, but also a scholar and wizard. Now, there is something I would like you to do for me. This here”, and he held up four heavy looking square packages that were sewn into some leathery material, “are four rare books. Each of them is worth quite a bit for scholars, and I would like to deliver them to their final destination myself, but I was dispatched on a diplomatic mission to Hollowfaust, the city of Necromancers. So I want you to bring it there. Oh, and Jan, your sire Knight Hawkings has told me that you are free to go on this mission, as well.”
Niklas interrupted him: “But where do you want us to deliver those books to?”.
“Didn’t I mention it? Well, to the heart of our church, of course. To Mithril!”
The group gasped. Even if they would be able to fly like a bird, it would be a trip of a thousand miles. But given the countless obstacles on the way, the Kelder mountains and the mourning marshes being just two of them, they would easily have to walk twice as far on foot.
“Well, don’t worry, you will be fine! Also, this will be your chance to see a good part of Ghelspad and gain valuable experience, while you are at it.
“The best part of it is, that you can take your time. I predict you will need about a year or so, but time doesn’t really matter. Books are not like milk: They don’t turn into cheese, if you keep them too long. They are much more like a family heirloom: When they are lost, it is a tragedy.”
Ben stood up, patting his dog, and asked: “But how much will we get in return, apart from the experience?”
“Good question young halfling. Well, I will pay you 100 pieces of Gold now, and I guarantee you will get 300 pieces, once you reach Mithril. Furthermore, I have some gifts for you wrapped up here. So, who is in?”
All of them nodded in agreement.
“Good, then. Well, Jan, you take the money, I trust you to fairly distribute it. Oh, and here is something your Sire gave to me, so that you can have it.”
And with these words, he pulled an oversized sword out of his canvas roll and handed it to the young Paladin.
“As you can see, there is silver worked into the blade itself. With it, you will be able to fight the servants of Belsameth, since they may not fear steel, but they can be killed with silver.”
And then Brother William distributed the other gifts: A scroll with Arcane magic for Trepat, A magical bullet that can explode into a fireball for Ben’s sling, a potion of invisibility for the Half Orc and at last he turned to his student.
”For you, I have two gifts. The first one is an empty book: You will be able to keep your notes and whatever you deem worthy there. Second, there is this little flask. It is called an “Armor in a bottle”. If you pour it over your body, you will be enshrouded in a magical mist that will protect you from blows, much like a metal armor does.”.
“And now, I have to leave. Let the gods and the earth mother guide you, and let reason be your guide at all times. Don’t let your own righteousness blind you. And remember:
The enemy is not the Prince of Matter; the enemy is the arrogance of the spirit, faith without smile, truth that is never seized by doubt.”
And so, after a cheerful goodbye from all, Brother William left.
On the next day, after buying provisions and a donkey, they set off on their long journey northwards. Every now and then, it rained, but the weather cleared up after a few days, as they entered a wood.
It was noon, and the party had crossed about a quarter of the length of the wood, as a Squirrel jumped onto a twig in front of the adventurers.
“Greetings Wanderers!”, the squirrel said with a thin but audible voice.
The young men looked at each other in surprise, except for Ben, who recognized him for what he was. He bowed down and said: “Greetings and well met, Herald of Denev.”
“You don’t have to bow down in front of me, Incarnate.”, he said to Ben and then turned to face the rest of the group: “My name is Squirrel Nutkin, and I need your help!”.
to be continued...
The squirrel and the scorched ones
Years passed and even though the refugees tried to keep in touch, they never managed to get all five of them together again.
Yet, on the first of Tanot in 150, it was time for Morte to get fully accepted among the ranks of the Fists of Mithril. The boy had grown to be a dark and thin man, and after his master, Brother William, had fulfilled the little ritual, and Morte took up his monastrial name of “Niklas”, they both went up to a nearby hill that was a common meeting spot for the citizens of Durrover.
As they went up the hill, Niklas once again looked at the familiar face of his master. He was greyhaired and had steelblue eyes that sparkled with intelligence and humor and under his high cheekbones, there were, as always, small wrinkles at the edge of his mouth, as if he was constantly trying to hold back a radiant smile and losing the battle.
It was brother William who had taken the young man under his wing, when it turned out, that in spite of his fervant worship of Corean, he wan’t quite Paladin material. And it turned out that he made a much better monk then anybody could have hoped for.
Now, they had reached the meeting spot on the hill and there, to his surprise, Niklas saw that his master had summoned all his old friends:
There was Jan, who had stayed with the Paladins and was now proudly bearing the insignia of a Paladin of Corean.
Next to him, unpacking food and wine was Torn. No more a little boy, the Half Orc was now the height of Niklas’s brother while being the double in width. Even though he was the youngest of them, he already had some scars and a broken nose. After he got expelled from the militia, he had turned to a life on the street, making his fortune among the criminals and outcast.
And then, there were Ben and Trepat. Both hadn’t changed much since they had escorted the kids out of Oreirover, even though they had both found their destinies: The Elf had become a sorceror and the halfling an Incarnate.
They all greeted each other heartily, for even though their paths had gone their separate ways, they had managed to stay friends throughout the years.
After a while of food and wine, brother William raised his voice: “I am really glad you all were able to make it here. Not only is it a great day for Novice Niklas, but I also have work for you!”
“Some of you know that I am not only a faithful monk of corean, but also a scholar and wizard. Now, there is something I would like you to do for me. This here”, and he held up four heavy looking square packages that were sewn into some leathery material, “are four rare books. Each of them is worth quite a bit for scholars, and I would like to deliver them to their final destination myself, but I was dispatched on a diplomatic mission to Hollowfaust, the city of Necromancers. So I want you to bring it there. Oh, and Jan, your sire Knight Hawkings has told me that you are free to go on this mission, as well.”
Niklas interrupted him: “But where do you want us to deliver those books to?”.
“Didn’t I mention it? Well, to the heart of our church, of course. To Mithril!”
The group gasped. Even if they would be able to fly like a bird, it would be a trip of a thousand miles. But given the countless obstacles on the way, the Kelder mountains and the mourning marshes being just two of them, they would easily have to walk twice as far on foot.
“Well, don’t worry, you will be fine! Also, this will be your chance to see a good part of Ghelspad and gain valuable experience, while you are at it.
“The best part of it is, that you can take your time. I predict you will need about a year or so, but time doesn’t really matter. Books are not like milk: They don’t turn into cheese, if you keep them too long. They are much more like a family heirloom: When they are lost, it is a tragedy.”
Ben stood up, patting his dog, and asked: “But how much will we get in return, apart from the experience?”
“Good question young halfling. Well, I will pay you 100 pieces of Gold now, and I guarantee you will get 300 pieces, once you reach Mithril. Furthermore, I have some gifts for you wrapped up here. So, who is in?”
All of them nodded in agreement.
“Good, then. Well, Jan, you take the money, I trust you to fairly distribute it. Oh, and here is something your Sire gave to me, so that you can have it.”
And with these words, he pulled an oversized sword out of his canvas roll and handed it to the young Paladin.
“As you can see, there is silver worked into the blade itself. With it, you will be able to fight the servants of Belsameth, since they may not fear steel, but they can be killed with silver.”
And then Brother William distributed the other gifts: A scroll with Arcane magic for Trepat, A magical bullet that can explode into a fireball for Ben’s sling, a potion of invisibility for the Half Orc and at last he turned to his student.
”For you, I have two gifts. The first one is an empty book: You will be able to keep your notes and whatever you deem worthy there. Second, there is this little flask. It is called an “Armor in a bottle”. If you pour it over your body, you will be enshrouded in a magical mist that will protect you from blows, much like a metal armor does.”.
“And now, I have to leave. Let the gods and the earth mother guide you, and let reason be your guide at all times. Don’t let your own righteousness blind you. And remember:
The enemy is not the Prince of Matter; the enemy is the arrogance of the spirit, faith without smile, truth that is never seized by doubt.”
And so, after a cheerful goodbye from all, Brother William left.
On the next day, after buying provisions and a donkey, they set off on their long journey northwards. Every now and then, it rained, but the weather cleared up after a few days, as they entered a wood.
It was noon, and the party had crossed about a quarter of the length of the wood, as a Squirrel jumped onto a twig in front of the adventurers.
“Greetings Wanderers!”, the squirrel said with a thin but audible voice.
The young men looked at each other in surprise, except for Ben, who recognized him for what he was. He bowed down and said: “Greetings and well met, Herald of Denev.”
“You don’t have to bow down in front of me, Incarnate.”, he said to Ben and then turned to face the rest of the group: “My name is Squirrel Nutkin, and I need your help!”.
to be continued...
Another fine posting from what I feel is one of the better story hours out here! *Just my opinion of course! 
*
KidCthulhu
First Post
Ooooh, that Squirrel Nutkin, you watch out for him. He's up to mischef for certain.
Lars Frehse
First Post
The Squirrel and the scorched ones part two
“Titanspawn are lairing in an old ruin here in my wood. They are foul beings, whose mere presence defiles the very land. They smell like burnt meat, and every now and then, they come into the woods and try to burn it. Fortunately, so far, it had been rainy, but now the sun has been shining for two days and it doesn’t look like there will be rain soon. Yet, I fear that they could burn down the whole forest. Will you help me?”
Even though helping a talking squirrel felt like a strange thing to do to some of them, all of them agreed.
So, the squirrel lead them into the forest. As he jumped from branch to branch, the flowers seemed to turn their heads, and follow the little red rodent as if he were the sun. They went to an old oak tree that served as a home to Nutkin and stashed away the books. Since it was already dark, they put up their tents.
Nutkin used Niklas’s book to draw a map into it. It was a sight that raised a smile, in spite of the anticipation of upcoming battle. He used a feather that was as tall as he was himself and held it with both of his little paws. As he painted, he frantically jumped around on the page in order to draw all details.
When he was done, the men could see that the ruins were on top of an old hill. Apparently, it was a castle that had burnt to the ground centuries ago. Squirrel Nutkin didn’t know which side it had served in the titan’s war, but ever since, it was an empty ruin, with some parts of the old wall still standing and only two buildings that were intact enough to keep standing: An old longhouse and a stonetower.
The hill itself was made of vulcanic rock, and only moss and shrubbery grew on it.
Also, he described the charfiends, as he called them, to the young heroes. They looked like humanoid reptilians with huge jaws and long, fierce claws. Their scaled bodies were covered with patches of burnt fur.
As the sun set, they all went to sleep, and only Ben stayed up in order to talk with the herald of Denev.
At night, Torn dreamt of his father. In this dream, he was sitting opposed of his father at a camp fire, and he was a kid again.
“Look”, his father said, thrusting a dagger into the fire, “no matter how hard I stab at the fire, I won’t defeat it.”.
Then his father turned around, got a bucket of water, and poured it over the fire, extinguishing it with an angry hiss:” You see, depending on who you fight, the least dangerous looking weapon can be the most effective one!”.
And then, the clarity vanished from Torn’s dream, and he drifted off into insubstantial dreams.
On the next morning, Trepat send his familiar raven of to scout over the hill and the ruins. On top of the abandoned tower, he saw one of the Charfiends looking around. After a few hours, the one left the top of the tower, and after a while another one came up.
So, a plan was formed: The group would sneak up the hill during the change of guards and hide in the shadow of the tower. There, one would sneak up the old freestanding stairways that lead to a door at half the height of it.
In the evening, the guards changed. Squirrel Nutkin wished them luck, and all of them went up the hill. There, they stopped for a while, and once they were certain no one had heard them, Torn climbed up the stairs.
As he had just reached the top, the uppermost step in the free standing spiral stairway gave way and fell down 20 feet, crashing loudly to the ground. The group stood paralyzed, knowing that the noise was loud enough to wake up the dead.
Everything happened rather fast now: The door of the tower burst open, and three of the charfiends charged out of it, attacking the group with their claws and teeth. A fierce battle ensued, and most of the young men were nauseated by the smell of acrid smoke and scorched flesh that the monsters spread. For a while it looked as if the demons would gain the upper hand, and they struck down Jan. But just as they pressed on at the other heroes, Nutkin appeared from nowhere, and touched Jan’s forehead with his paw. Mystical energy engulfed the Paladin and his wounds closed. Now, our heroes regained their footing and defeated the Charfiends.
Their enemies defeated on the ground, Nutkin went on to take care of some other wounds. Ben, who had been shooting his sling, was just on his way to help on some injuries himself, as the door of the main building opened, and five more fiends came out. One of them, apparently their leader, wore armor and held a Spiked Chain in his claws.
For seconds that felt like hours, both groups stared at each other, evaluating the strength of the opponent. Nutkin stood the shoulder of Jan, and pointed at the woods, since he had spent most of his healing powers for the day, he wanted to continue the fight another day. But Ben had ana different idea: he dropped his explosive bullet into his sling and fired it towards the group of fiends. A fireball exploded and the area was covered in smoke.
As the smoke lifted, the five fiends still stood there, unharmed, and the leader shouted: “You think you can hurt us with fire? Our lord would never hurt his devout followers”. And then he screamed in an inhumane voice as the rage of his Titan creator took control of him.
All fiends charged, concentrating on the Paladin, for the symbol of Corean, who was their hated nemesis, instilled a frenzy in the cruel fiendy. The friends rushed forward to help their brother in arms, and the halfling and the elf fired magic and bullets from a distance, so that only the wielder of the Chains could get into melee with Jan.
Human and Titanspawn were locked in a deadly battle. Jan tried to keep calm like he was tought, but the fiend screamed, showing his huge jaws, and he slashed at his enemy with an unearthly fury. Jan used an opening of his enemie’s defense and struck him with his sword. But even though his blow should have been lethal, the Charfiend didn’t fall. It looked as if only his hatred kept him from dying, and he struck down the Paladin, who fell to the ground bleeding.
The leader then charged the freestanding halfling, hitting him square on the dead, and Ben fell down, unconcious.
Now, only Torn and Trepat were left standing, and even though they had by now defeated all their enemies but one, and Nutkin had taken care of Niklas’s wound, they were shocked to see the leader turn to them. The charfiend growled like a lion and started to run towards them and… collapsed, dead. Even his hatred could only carry him so far, and at last his injuries took their toll.
Now, Torn smahed the skull of the last of the fiends with his morningstar, and then, the two of them and the squirrel took care of the wounded.
On the next morning, the squirrel healed Ben and together and with the help of the Paladin, they used their combined divine powers to make the wounds of last days battle disappear. Then they went back to the ruin. In the tower, they found a secret door leading to an ancient basement. There, ontop of an old cold forge was a little flame. As they went closer to it, they saw that it had the form of a little man.
Jan said: “Hello”, and the answer of the little entity came immediately: The paladin’s armor turned red hot.
Jan screamed in pain and ran for the ladder leading up, but the heat remained, and he tried to undo his scalemail, as Niklas poured the content of his waterskin over the armor. At the same time, Torn remembered the dream and poured water over the flame-man, extinguishing it.
Ever since the castle had been abandoned centuries ago, the ghost of the forge had remained, angry at the humans who had left him there. Then, when a few weeks ago, eight charfiends had come out of their subterran home. They discovered the spirit, and worshipped it, seeing in it the destructive force they admired. They had fed the spirit and had the heroes not intervened, they would have probably torched down all of the forest in the summer. There is nothing a charfiend loves more then life destroyed in fire. And the inhabitants of the forest would have been just enough victims to a fire to please those perverted creatures.
Nutkin told Ben that subterran creatures had told him that the old mine lead to seemingly endless tunnels. And so the monk, the elf and the Paladin started to block up the entrance of the old mine and Ben and Torn went to explore the old mainbuilding.
The Charfiends had used it to lair in there, but they had never dared to climb right under the roof. The supporting pillars there were charred and weakened by the passage of time. Still, Torn took the challenge, and nimbly like a cat, he balanced over the supporting beams to where he saw an old chest. Quickly, he unlocked it, and in it, he found old coins and a wand.
As he just went back a few steps, the beam he was walking on broke, and he fell one storey. Fortunately, he was able to turn while falling, softening his fall- living on the streets for years had tought him to survive.
The group stayed for a few more days in the wood, and Nutkin made sure that there were enough berries, nuts and mushrooms for them. They blocked up the old mine and Trepat identified the wand as a wand that was used to cure wounds.
Then, they marched on, and the squirrel accompanied them to the edge of the forest, where they said goodbye to each other.
For a few more days, they wandered through hills, until they reached Weddafurt, a village that was close to the pass through the Kelders, towards which they were heading. They took a hearty meal, and went to bed in “the happy boar”, the only inn there.
On the next morning, a woman, one of the traders who stayed at the same inn, came down into the mainroom, screaming hysterically.
”My husband! He’s dead!”
Jan and Torn were in the room, eating breakfast at that moment. They ran up the stairs, and saw the dead trader. It looked as if he had aged years in the last 12 hours, since they had seen him in the dining room. His hair was grey, his cheeks had fallen in, and his lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling with a look of mortal fear while his mouth was wide open in a toneless, eternal scream.
“Titanspawn are lairing in an old ruin here in my wood. They are foul beings, whose mere presence defiles the very land. They smell like burnt meat, and every now and then, they come into the woods and try to burn it. Fortunately, so far, it had been rainy, but now the sun has been shining for two days and it doesn’t look like there will be rain soon. Yet, I fear that they could burn down the whole forest. Will you help me?”
Even though helping a talking squirrel felt like a strange thing to do to some of them, all of them agreed.
So, the squirrel lead them into the forest. As he jumped from branch to branch, the flowers seemed to turn their heads, and follow the little red rodent as if he were the sun. They went to an old oak tree that served as a home to Nutkin and stashed away the books. Since it was already dark, they put up their tents.
Nutkin used Niklas’s book to draw a map into it. It was a sight that raised a smile, in spite of the anticipation of upcoming battle. He used a feather that was as tall as he was himself and held it with both of his little paws. As he painted, he frantically jumped around on the page in order to draw all details.
When he was done, the men could see that the ruins were on top of an old hill. Apparently, it was a castle that had burnt to the ground centuries ago. Squirrel Nutkin didn’t know which side it had served in the titan’s war, but ever since, it was an empty ruin, with some parts of the old wall still standing and only two buildings that were intact enough to keep standing: An old longhouse and a stonetower.
The hill itself was made of vulcanic rock, and only moss and shrubbery grew on it.
Also, he described the charfiends, as he called them, to the young heroes. They looked like humanoid reptilians with huge jaws and long, fierce claws. Their scaled bodies were covered with patches of burnt fur.
As the sun set, they all went to sleep, and only Ben stayed up in order to talk with the herald of Denev.
At night, Torn dreamt of his father. In this dream, he was sitting opposed of his father at a camp fire, and he was a kid again.
“Look”, his father said, thrusting a dagger into the fire, “no matter how hard I stab at the fire, I won’t defeat it.”.
Then his father turned around, got a bucket of water, and poured it over the fire, extinguishing it with an angry hiss:” You see, depending on who you fight, the least dangerous looking weapon can be the most effective one!”.
And then, the clarity vanished from Torn’s dream, and he drifted off into insubstantial dreams.
On the next morning, Trepat send his familiar raven of to scout over the hill and the ruins. On top of the abandoned tower, he saw one of the Charfiends looking around. After a few hours, the one left the top of the tower, and after a while another one came up.
So, a plan was formed: The group would sneak up the hill during the change of guards and hide in the shadow of the tower. There, one would sneak up the old freestanding stairways that lead to a door at half the height of it.
In the evening, the guards changed. Squirrel Nutkin wished them luck, and all of them went up the hill. There, they stopped for a while, and once they were certain no one had heard them, Torn climbed up the stairs.
As he had just reached the top, the uppermost step in the free standing spiral stairway gave way and fell down 20 feet, crashing loudly to the ground. The group stood paralyzed, knowing that the noise was loud enough to wake up the dead.
Everything happened rather fast now: The door of the tower burst open, and three of the charfiends charged out of it, attacking the group with their claws and teeth. A fierce battle ensued, and most of the young men were nauseated by the smell of acrid smoke and scorched flesh that the monsters spread. For a while it looked as if the demons would gain the upper hand, and they struck down Jan. But just as they pressed on at the other heroes, Nutkin appeared from nowhere, and touched Jan’s forehead with his paw. Mystical energy engulfed the Paladin and his wounds closed. Now, our heroes regained their footing and defeated the Charfiends.
Their enemies defeated on the ground, Nutkin went on to take care of some other wounds. Ben, who had been shooting his sling, was just on his way to help on some injuries himself, as the door of the main building opened, and five more fiends came out. One of them, apparently their leader, wore armor and held a Spiked Chain in his claws.
For seconds that felt like hours, both groups stared at each other, evaluating the strength of the opponent. Nutkin stood the shoulder of Jan, and pointed at the woods, since he had spent most of his healing powers for the day, he wanted to continue the fight another day. But Ben had ana different idea: he dropped his explosive bullet into his sling and fired it towards the group of fiends. A fireball exploded and the area was covered in smoke.
As the smoke lifted, the five fiends still stood there, unharmed, and the leader shouted: “You think you can hurt us with fire? Our lord would never hurt his devout followers”. And then he screamed in an inhumane voice as the rage of his Titan creator took control of him.
All fiends charged, concentrating on the Paladin, for the symbol of Corean, who was their hated nemesis, instilled a frenzy in the cruel fiendy. The friends rushed forward to help their brother in arms, and the halfling and the elf fired magic and bullets from a distance, so that only the wielder of the Chains could get into melee with Jan.
Human and Titanspawn were locked in a deadly battle. Jan tried to keep calm like he was tought, but the fiend screamed, showing his huge jaws, and he slashed at his enemy with an unearthly fury. Jan used an opening of his enemie’s defense and struck him with his sword. But even though his blow should have been lethal, the Charfiend didn’t fall. It looked as if only his hatred kept him from dying, and he struck down the Paladin, who fell to the ground bleeding.
The leader then charged the freestanding halfling, hitting him square on the dead, and Ben fell down, unconcious.
Now, only Torn and Trepat were left standing, and even though they had by now defeated all their enemies but one, and Nutkin had taken care of Niklas’s wound, they were shocked to see the leader turn to them. The charfiend growled like a lion and started to run towards them and… collapsed, dead. Even his hatred could only carry him so far, and at last his injuries took their toll.
Now, Torn smahed the skull of the last of the fiends with his morningstar, and then, the two of them and the squirrel took care of the wounded.
On the next morning, the squirrel healed Ben and together and with the help of the Paladin, they used their combined divine powers to make the wounds of last days battle disappear. Then they went back to the ruin. In the tower, they found a secret door leading to an ancient basement. There, ontop of an old cold forge was a little flame. As they went closer to it, they saw that it had the form of a little man.
Jan said: “Hello”, and the answer of the little entity came immediately: The paladin’s armor turned red hot.
Jan screamed in pain and ran for the ladder leading up, but the heat remained, and he tried to undo his scalemail, as Niklas poured the content of his waterskin over the armor. At the same time, Torn remembered the dream and poured water over the flame-man, extinguishing it.
Ever since the castle had been abandoned centuries ago, the ghost of the forge had remained, angry at the humans who had left him there. Then, when a few weeks ago, eight charfiends had come out of their subterran home. They discovered the spirit, and worshipped it, seeing in it the destructive force they admired. They had fed the spirit and had the heroes not intervened, they would have probably torched down all of the forest in the summer. There is nothing a charfiend loves more then life destroyed in fire. And the inhabitants of the forest would have been just enough victims to a fire to please those perverted creatures.
Nutkin told Ben that subterran creatures had told him that the old mine lead to seemingly endless tunnels. And so the monk, the elf and the Paladin started to block up the entrance of the old mine and Ben and Torn went to explore the old mainbuilding.
The Charfiends had used it to lair in there, but they had never dared to climb right under the roof. The supporting pillars there were charred and weakened by the passage of time. Still, Torn took the challenge, and nimbly like a cat, he balanced over the supporting beams to where he saw an old chest. Quickly, he unlocked it, and in it, he found old coins and a wand.
As he just went back a few steps, the beam he was walking on broke, and he fell one storey. Fortunately, he was able to turn while falling, softening his fall- living on the streets for years had tought him to survive.
The group stayed for a few more days in the wood, and Nutkin made sure that there were enough berries, nuts and mushrooms for them. They blocked up the old mine and Trepat identified the wand as a wand that was used to cure wounds.
Then, they marched on, and the squirrel accompanied them to the edge of the forest, where they said goodbye to each other.
For a few more days, they wandered through hills, until they reached Weddafurt, a village that was close to the pass through the Kelders, towards which they were heading. They took a hearty meal, and went to bed in “the happy boar”, the only inn there.
On the next morning, a woman, one of the traders who stayed at the same inn, came down into the mainroom, screaming hysterically.
”My husband! He’s dead!”
Jan and Torn were in the room, eating breakfast at that moment. They ran up the stairs, and saw the dead trader. It looked as if he had aged years in the last 12 hours, since they had seen him in the dining room. His hair was grey, his cheeks had fallen in, and his lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling with a look of mortal fear while his mouth was wide open in a toneless, eternal scream.
Olidammara
First Post
Squirrels rock!
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