Dark Squad in the Sunless Citadel
Session #001a Flawless.
Dark Squad (in alphabetical order, no egos here).
Garumn (played by Stu) Male Mountain Dwarf Paladin of Moradin Lvl 1
Ramshambo (played by Kev) Male Half-Elf Rogue Lvl 1
Vincenzo (played by Haggis) Male Shifter (Wildhunt) Druid Lvl 1
“Divil!” The old farmer screamed in Garumn’s face once more, and then staggered back flailing for an edge, any surface to grab hold of to save himself- to keep him on his feet. He failed and sat down hard on the spit and sawdust barroom floor, a moment later he clutched his head and started to weep.
“Eat zis.” Vincenzo offered, the jaundiced human-looking merchant, offered the fallen farmer a hunk of crusty bread. “Eat it! It may make you less dronk”, he stated loudly, and then leaning close to Ramshambo whispered- “quelle merde, what are we doing ‘ere my frend in zis… zis, ow you say it- sheet owle?”
The half-elf shrugged, kept his counsel, and quietly continued to sip at the bad ale before him. The rogue eventually looked up and over to Garumn, the dwarf’s eyes were screwed tight- he’d seen that before, the paladin was trying to sense the presence of creatures of the taint- devils and demons, the undead- all manner of fiends were revealed to Garumn’s inner-sight.
A moment later the dwarf blinked open his eyes and shook his head at his two companions- there was no corruption here. Garumn peered down at the tear-stained farmer-still scrabbling on the floor of the inn. An old man- for a human, perhaps- or else the fellow had had a very hard life. Vincenzo meantime kept up a steady one-way badinage, appraising Ramshambo moment by moment of his thoughts regarding their present situation. The rogue patiently listened to his exasperated companion and nodded along conspiratorially.
Garumn, at last, made his decision, lurched up from the bench and his beer, and then with the help of Bertram- owner of the Ol’ Boar Inn, lifted the old farmer back onto his still unsteady feet. “His name’s Coley, Old Man Coley we calls ‘im, on account of… well, he’s old.” Bert added with a shrug.
“What do you want, old man?” Garumn asked, when the farmer was better situated- the reply came in gasps, through sobs and edged with strained whispers, and thirty seconds later even Vincenzo had stopped talking to listen Old Man Coley’s words, nay pleas.
“Princess Lucky- she’s the last of ‘em, the last of my beauties- every night the divil comes to my farm and lays claim to another of my prize ladies, my milkers- my moo-cows.” The farmer stutters to a halt again, but Garumn’s hand on his forearm urges him on.
“I calls ‘im the scratchy bastard- he tears my girls to shreds- six foot high he is, and with ‘ands and feet like claws- great… great… scythes! He cuts ‘em good, tears them up, tears them… to pieces. It’s a divil I tell you, a DIVIL!”
Two hours later, on the Coley farm, and with the last light of day hesitating between a smudge and a memory, the trio of adventurers harrumph to themselves and continue their watch- arranged in their hiding places, or else not- waiting for the ‘divil’, the so-called scratchy bastard to arrive.
In a small fenced paddock stands the doe-eyed Princess Lucky, Old Man Coley’s only remaining cow- every now and then she lows gently. In the byre close by Vincenzo sits and waits, hidden in the hay- the druid had previously- before their watch started, confirmed to his companions, somewhat to their dismay, the veracity of Old Man Coley’s claim.
“It iz not a divil, rather a de-mon… most likely a wood de-mon.” The information had met with blank looks from Garumn and Ramshambo- although the rogue was in fact trying really hard to maintain his nonchalance. It really was a demon, the farmer hadn’t lied- the half-elf suddenly had doubts, he was new to this- fighting demons. He wasn’t sure he’d signed up for it.
The druid had searched the Coley farm thoroughly on their arrival here, and soon after located… well, a clutch of what looked to his friends to be broken twigs. He’d then spent the next thirty minutes doggedly at his task- mostly sniffling and snuffling around the dirty and dishevelled place. Nodding along to some inner voice, before finally delivering his conclusion.
“A de-mon, I ‘ave no doubt.” The druid stated with a shrug, accompanied by a nervous grin.
“We watch and we wait.” With which, Garumn had brought the conversation to a close.
Ramshambo shivered a little, peering through the cracked door of the farmhouse, the rogue had found the best hiding place to be had. While his comrades were otherwise engaged, he had silently gained access to the sleeping farmer’s cottage, and well… made himself at home. Although, in truth, the old farmer had nothing worth taking. So poor were Ram’s surroundings that once or twice it had crossed his mind to perhaps leave a few coppers in plain sight somewhere for the miserable old fellow to find. Inventory taken the half-elf went back to his watch- a demon, he silently mouthed- this was bound to get interesting.
Garumn stood pretty much in the centre of the farmyard, the dwarf had taken an entirely different approach in his preparation for the scratchy bastard’s arrival. The paladin, it could be said, was not-hiding in plain sight. The hefty dwarf therefore described small circles- shuffling around on the spot- the beam of a lighthouse- his eyes, searching out the enemy. The scratchy bastard was going back to hell tonight he swore to Moradin, he was certain.
The first to sense the demon’s approach was Vincenzo, the druid had the foul beast’s scent- and very suddenly it was close, and yet he could see nothing from his present position. His sight blurred or blocked by the hay he was concealed in, the fence posts and railings, the tree stumps and sward… he was too low to the ground, too well concealed- and yet to move now would give away his position, and then what?
The first to see the enemy then was Garumn, the paladin stifled a yawn as over in the byre the druid wrestled with doubt and inaction. Then suddenly stepping out from behind a fence post, and directly before the holy dwarven warrior was a humanoid-shaped creature. Constructed around a woody central shaft, and with four twiggy, and most likely scratchy, limbs- in the usual places. Inscribed at the top of its woody core a face- of sorts, with a leering visage. The wood demon had arrived.
Alas the demon’s appearance would have been a little more frightening, although perhaps not for Garumn- for others, if the fiend had been a little, well… taller, or just… more substantial. On tiptoes, the wood demon measured a little under three feet. It looked, to the dwarf, like a strong breeze would blow the thing away. Garumn’s first thought was instantly followed by his second- and a moment later and with a swish of his greatsword the creature was gone. The grinning paladin watched the shattered wood demon disintegrate, or at least assume its dormant form- kindling, and then half-turned to declare victory to his friends and was caught in the blinding flash of light that followed.
Vincenzo had had enough of prevaricating, the druid rose to a standing position and unleashed a sudden glorious burst of nature’s fuel- sunlight, the blinding light scythed through the dark to engulf and illuminate a small portion of the farm. Then faded as suddenly as it had appeared, but in its going left its glowing trace on the creature now racing towards the druid. “Twig blight”, Vincenzo whispered, and then louder for his friends to hear- seeing Garumn momentarily shielding his eyes, and then fast approaching. Then spotting the door of the farmhouse opening and closing, seemingly unaided, the druid failing to sight Ram swiftly and stealthily creeping towards the newly revealed and now glowing enemy.
However, before the rogue could launch his silent attack the paladin barrelled in, reaching to his belt Garumn grabbed out a hand axe and in one smooth motion let it fly, a fraction of a second later and the second twig blight lay scattered and shattered. The gurning dwarf exhaled loudly and skidded to a halt, that was two wood demons he had defeated this night- Moradin be praised.
To emphasise this fact the young Dwarf stuck both thumbs into the belt of his mail britches, puffed out his chest- gurned some more, and said- “I am, as I said to you fellers earlier…
And was swiftly shushed into silence.
Ram, the shusher, suddenly dodged right and low- and then scurried behind a water-barrel on the shadow-side of the farmer’s cottage. From the other side of the butt the sound of scratching as the last of the twig blights cautiously peered around the obstacle to check that the coast was finally clear. The plant-fiend spied its quarry- a now nervously shuffling Princess Lucky.
The unflustered rogue meantime signalled once for his colleagues’ attention, and then deftly signed the new enemy’s location. Vincenzo and Garumn had already begun to move closer. The shifter druid suddenly morphing and shaping his sallow human face taking on a new formation- wild, cat-like in-part, but for the silent scream that framed his mouth, and accentuated by the sudden growth of needle-sharp snake like fangs. The shifter… shifted and was down low and at the last twig blight in a rush. Alas his lunge was too swift and too sudden, the final enemy changed direction and cut inside Vincenzo’s headlong dive. It raced on- towards Princess Lucky.
The wood demon- as Garumn still believed, clawed the air- silently snarling, and sped towards the quivering and shaking, now loudly mooing and moaning Princess Lucky, and then ten feet short of its target was swept into oblivion by the swing, once again, of the paladin’s deft blade.
“…flawless.” Garumn declared with a grin, as Old Man Coley burst through the door of his cottage wearing nought but his breach-cloth and wielding a half-finished bottle of something fortifying but unforgiving, and screaming several things that the young paladin would never be repeating.
And so, begins the adventures of the heroes that would later become known as the Dark Squad: Garumn the Flawless, Ramshambo the Silent, and Vincenzo the Face.
Next time.
