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Story Hour
The Fall of Civilization
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 4507576" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>The sun rises through bloody clouds. Smoke ascends to the sky in all directions. Behind the party, Chebonnay is besieged. The sounds of battle at the walls easily reach the party, even miles away. The air stinks of distant smoke and death. </p><p></p><p>In the bleak light of dawn, the party examines their options again, and attempting to reach Fandelose via the xvart kingdom remains, by consensus, their best choice. And so they strike off, hoping to evade all contact with the Six-Fingered Hand and escape to a- hopefully- as yet uninvested city.</p><p></p><p>Across the fields, keeping to cover whenever possible, by burnt farms and empty farm houses, the unlikely group of friends moves as quickly as they can while remaining wary for adversaries and careful to stay fairly well hidden. Their progress is slow- they estimate a week’s travel to get to the mountains, and then however long it takes to get through the tunnel and beyond to the other side. And then... how long of a journey awaits them on the other side, before they actually reach Fandelose?</p><p></p><p>At best, they are weeks away.</p><p></p><p>But behind them is fire and death.</p><p></p><p>They sleep in trees and ditches, keeping to cover. There are enough fires in the night, everywhere, that they might be able to get away with having one without being noticed, but the party does not risk it. If a platoon of dozens of orcs came upon them in the night, the situation would be... untenable.</p><p></p><p>They meet a few refugees hiding in the woods, but have no aid to offer them. Still, Torinn tends to the wounded, while Heimall and Kratos give pep talks to encourage them to keep their chins up.</p><p></p><p><em>Keep your chins up while the world burns.</em> Right.</p><p></p><p>The party moves on for several days, traveling hard and fast, eating light and moving through the most secret paths they can find. Then they stumble upon a burned-out village. It was obviously destroyed in the last day or two, and some of the huts are still smoking. The sign of the Six-Fingered Hand is hewn into surfaces everywhere. About twenty peasant corpses are strewn about the village, and there are no survivors in sight. There are a few intact buildings, and from the size of the village, our heroes estimate that probably 70-80 people lived here before the sack. </p><p></p><p>“That means fifty or sixty of them got away,” Nixie says.</p><p></p><p>“Or were enslaved,” Kratos responds.</p><p></p><p>“Damned Six-Fingered Hand,” growls Vann-La. She spits.</p><p></p><p>“We should be the <em>One-</em>Fingered Hand,” Torinn quips.</p><p></p><p>“Oo, look, a store. Let’s see if there are any supply we could use,” the cook suggests.</p><p></p><p>The party goes to the remains of the town’s general store. Cook sets about scavenging what he can- he spies a couple of large sacks of rice almost immediately- while Nixie walks across the street, where another intact store remains. </p><p></p><p>Suddenly, two drakes rush out at her. “Ah!” she cries in surprise.</p><p></p><p>An orc steps out after them, and hurls a murderous flurry of two hand axes at Nixie. She ducks, and both go over her head. Vann-La steps up and cuts at the orc with her sword, and opens a red line across his cheek.</p><p></p><p>The orc chuckles. “I’ll add you to my collection of dead!” he taunts, speaking in Common.</p><p></p><p>“Murderer!” cries Nedyoiv. “We will avenge these people!” He charges in to flanking with his spear- and hits! The orc grimaces, but then grins again. He seems to relish the pain.</p><p></p><p>The melee swirls. The two drakes stick close together, functioning very well as a pair. The orcish murderer wields his axes with aplomb; his skill is deadly. Vann-La first slays one of the drakes, then whirls and begins dueling with the orc, sword to axe. and the others pour their attacks on him as well. Vann-La tries to trap him against a building, pushing him with a tide of iron. “Don’t let him get away!” she cries. “He has to pay for what he’s done here!”</p><p></p><p>The orc sneers. “I have no intention of ‘getting away,’” he mocks them. “I told you- I’m adding you all to my collection!”</p><p></p><p>“Even without your little doggies?” Nixie replies sweetly, dropping the other drake with an <em>eldritch blast.</em> “Now it’s just you and us!”</p><p></p><p>Still, the orc manages to hold his own for a few moments. “I am enough,” he sneers. “More than enough, for the likes of you!” </p><p></p><p>“We’ll see,” Vann-La retorts, punctuating her remark with her sword. She stabs him in the chest, and the orc groans, but he keeps fighting!</p><p></p><p>At least, for a moment. He is unaware of the dwarven cook sneaking up behind him, and then- <em>bong!</em>- Cook bashes him over the head with a frying pan, rendering him unconscious.</p><p></p><p>Vann-La trips and falls forward, but manages to catch herself on her sword, burying the tip of it in the orc’s chest to do so. “Oops,” she says dryly.</p><p></p><p>“Ooo, why you do that?” Cook asks. “We could have had good intelligence from him!”</p><p></p><p>“What do we really need to know?” Vann-La returns.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>They continue their journey for several days, passing through a battlefield strewn with bodies. Kratos pushes the party onward. After another day, the mountains come within view. Two days after that, the party reaches them at last! And yet- the expected tunnel is nowhere to be found.</p><p></p><p>“The tunnel should be fairly prominent,” muses Heimall, “yet there’s no sign of it. We must be too far north or south.”</p><p></p><p>“We’ll have to guess which way to go and hope for the best,” nods Torinn. </p><p></p><p>“Well, for now let’s find a place to hole up,” Sta’Ligir suggests. “I’m exhausted, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.” </p><p></p><p>The others agree that this is a sound plan and begin searching for an adequate place to rest. Before long, they find a narrow canyon that looks promising- but as they move into it, they find that it already has inhabitants. </p><p></p><p>More drakes!</p><p></p><p>A swarm of small, cat-sized drakes, with teeth like finger-length knives, boils forward at the party. Above, on a ledge, another drake hisses out and spits a blob of acidic spittle at Nixie. She gives a surprised, pained cry.</p><p></p><p>Our heroes respond quickly, with most of the party engaging the swarm of drakes. Vann-La begins climbing the cliff wall towards the ledge that the spitting drake is lurking on. As she gets up to the top, she glances down. The party is making short work of the swarm, and it seems as though they have slain most of the small drakes making it up already. </p><p></p><p>Unfortunately, from her new perspective, the Kree elf can see more trouble coming. Entering the back end of the canyon are a group of humanoids- plainly, Six-Fingered Hand! “Watch out!” she cries down to his friends, “There’s more trouble coming!” </p><p></p><p>Heimall, who has moved over to the wall in order to join the attack on the spitting drake, instead points back at the dragonborn, who is smashing into the swarm, and shouts, “Torinn- smash our enemies! <strong>GIT!!</strong>”</p><p></p><p>Motivated by the warlord’s command, Torinn whirls his mace into the swarm, knocking several away. The remaining needletooth drakes flee, dispersing- just in time, as the Hand arrives! About half a dozen goblins, led by an orc, dressed in the livery of the Six-Fingered Hand, pour into the canyon. Some of the goblins hold back and fire arrows while the others rush forward and throw themselves into the fray. The spitting drake keeps splattering various members of the party with acid until Vann-La manages to bull rush it off the edge of the cliff, and it falls with a loud squawk. There is a loud snap as its neck breaks, and though it gurgles for a few more seconds, it is clearly out of the fight.</p><p></p><p>Then it is heroes versus Hand, Empire versus savages. The battle is quick and brutal and merciless, and although Torinn is laid low by a goblin’s blade, Heimall is able to quickly get him up with an <em>inspiring word.</em> The last goblin falls to a <em>magic missile,</em> and the party stops to catch their breath for a few minutes.</p><p></p><p>“We running low on food,” Cook points out. “I check them for rations.” He begins rummaging through the dead, muttering to himself. He shakes his head. “No good,” he reports. “They have food- but bad food. Made of people! We not eat.” Then he grins. “But I find this!” Clutched in his grubby thick hand, he holds a map.</p><p></p><p>The party clusters around. It shows every indication of having been a map of the areas this unit of the Hand had recently explored- and, clearly marked on it a few miles away, is the tunnel our heroes are seeking.</p><p></p><p>“Let’s move!” exclaims Nixie.</p><p></p><p><strong><em>Next Time:</em></strong> Into the Tunnels!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 4507576, member: 1210"] The sun rises through bloody clouds. Smoke ascends to the sky in all directions. Behind the party, Chebonnay is besieged. The sounds of battle at the walls easily reach the party, even miles away. The air stinks of distant smoke and death. In the bleak light of dawn, the party examines their options again, and attempting to reach Fandelose via the xvart kingdom remains, by consensus, their best choice. And so they strike off, hoping to evade all contact with the Six-Fingered Hand and escape to a- hopefully- as yet uninvested city. Across the fields, keeping to cover whenever possible, by burnt farms and empty farm houses, the unlikely group of friends moves as quickly as they can while remaining wary for adversaries and careful to stay fairly well hidden. Their progress is slow- they estimate a week’s travel to get to the mountains, and then however long it takes to get through the tunnel and beyond to the other side. And then... how long of a journey awaits them on the other side, before they actually reach Fandelose? At best, they are weeks away. But behind them is fire and death. They sleep in trees and ditches, keeping to cover. There are enough fires in the night, everywhere, that they might be able to get away with having one without being noticed, but the party does not risk it. If a platoon of dozens of orcs came upon them in the night, the situation would be... untenable. They meet a few refugees hiding in the woods, but have no aid to offer them. Still, Torinn tends to the wounded, while Heimall and Kratos give pep talks to encourage them to keep their chins up. [i]Keep your chins up while the world burns.[/i] Right. The party moves on for several days, traveling hard and fast, eating light and moving through the most secret paths they can find. Then they stumble upon a burned-out village. It was obviously destroyed in the last day or two, and some of the huts are still smoking. The sign of the Six-Fingered Hand is hewn into surfaces everywhere. About twenty peasant corpses are strewn about the village, and there are no survivors in sight. There are a few intact buildings, and from the size of the village, our heroes estimate that probably 70-80 people lived here before the sack. “That means fifty or sixty of them got away,” Nixie says. “Or were enslaved,” Kratos responds. “Damned Six-Fingered Hand,” growls Vann-La. She spits. “We should be the [i]One-[/i]Fingered Hand,” Torinn quips. “Oo, look, a store. Let’s see if there are any supply we could use,” the cook suggests. The party goes to the remains of the town’s general store. Cook sets about scavenging what he can- he spies a couple of large sacks of rice almost immediately- while Nixie walks across the street, where another intact store remains. Suddenly, two drakes rush out at her. “Ah!” she cries in surprise. An orc steps out after them, and hurls a murderous flurry of two hand axes at Nixie. She ducks, and both go over her head. Vann-La steps up and cuts at the orc with her sword, and opens a red line across his cheek. The orc chuckles. “I’ll add you to my collection of dead!” he taunts, speaking in Common. “Murderer!” cries Nedyoiv. “We will avenge these people!” He charges in to flanking with his spear- and hits! The orc grimaces, but then grins again. He seems to relish the pain. The melee swirls. The two drakes stick close together, functioning very well as a pair. The orcish murderer wields his axes with aplomb; his skill is deadly. Vann-La first slays one of the drakes, then whirls and begins dueling with the orc, sword to axe. and the others pour their attacks on him as well. Vann-La tries to trap him against a building, pushing him with a tide of iron. “Don’t let him get away!” she cries. “He has to pay for what he’s done here!” The orc sneers. “I have no intention of ‘getting away,’” he mocks them. “I told you- I’m adding you all to my collection!” “Even without your little doggies?” Nixie replies sweetly, dropping the other drake with an [i]eldritch blast.[/i] “Now it’s just you and us!” Still, the orc manages to hold his own for a few moments. “I am enough,” he sneers. “More than enough, for the likes of you!” “We’ll see,” Vann-La retorts, punctuating her remark with her sword. She stabs him in the chest, and the orc groans, but he keeps fighting! At least, for a moment. He is unaware of the dwarven cook sneaking up behind him, and then- [i]bong![/i]- Cook bashes him over the head with a frying pan, rendering him unconscious. Vann-La trips and falls forward, but manages to catch herself on her sword, burying the tip of it in the orc’s chest to do so. “Oops,” she says dryly. “Ooo, why you do that?” Cook asks. “We could have had good intelligence from him!” “What do we really need to know?” Vann-La returns. *** They continue their journey for several days, passing through a battlefield strewn with bodies. Kratos pushes the party onward. After another day, the mountains come within view. Two days after that, the party reaches them at last! And yet- the expected tunnel is nowhere to be found. “The tunnel should be fairly prominent,” muses Heimall, “yet there’s no sign of it. We must be too far north or south.” “We’ll have to guess which way to go and hope for the best,” nods Torinn. “Well, for now let’s find a place to hole up,” Sta’Ligir suggests. “I’m exhausted, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.” The others agree that this is a sound plan and begin searching for an adequate place to rest. Before long, they find a narrow canyon that looks promising- but as they move into it, they find that it already has inhabitants. More drakes! A swarm of small, cat-sized drakes, with teeth like finger-length knives, boils forward at the party. Above, on a ledge, another drake hisses out and spits a blob of acidic spittle at Nixie. She gives a surprised, pained cry. Our heroes respond quickly, with most of the party engaging the swarm of drakes. Vann-La begins climbing the cliff wall towards the ledge that the spitting drake is lurking on. As she gets up to the top, she glances down. The party is making short work of the swarm, and it seems as though they have slain most of the small drakes making it up already. Unfortunately, from her new perspective, the Kree elf can see more trouble coming. Entering the back end of the canyon are a group of humanoids- plainly, Six-Fingered Hand! “Watch out!” she cries down to his friends, “There’s more trouble coming!” Heimall, who has moved over to the wall in order to join the attack on the spitting drake, instead points back at the dragonborn, who is smashing into the swarm, and shouts, “Torinn- smash our enemies! [B]GIT!![/B]” Motivated by the warlord’s command, Torinn whirls his mace into the swarm, knocking several away. The remaining needletooth drakes flee, dispersing- just in time, as the Hand arrives! About half a dozen goblins, led by an orc, dressed in the livery of the Six-Fingered Hand, pour into the canyon. Some of the goblins hold back and fire arrows while the others rush forward and throw themselves into the fray. The spitting drake keeps splattering various members of the party with acid until Vann-La manages to bull rush it off the edge of the cliff, and it falls with a loud squawk. There is a loud snap as its neck breaks, and though it gurgles for a few more seconds, it is clearly out of the fight. Then it is heroes versus Hand, Empire versus savages. The battle is quick and brutal and merciless, and although Torinn is laid low by a goblin’s blade, Heimall is able to quickly get him up with an [i]inspiring word.[/i] The last goblin falls to a [i]magic missile,[/i] and the party stops to catch their breath for a few minutes. “We running low on food,” Cook points out. “I check them for rations.” He begins rummaging through the dead, muttering to himself. He shakes his head. “No good,” he reports. “They have food- but bad food. Made of people! We not eat.” Then he grins. “But I find this!” Clutched in his grubby thick hand, he holds a map. The party clusters around. It shows every indication of having been a map of the areas this unit of the Hand had recently explored- and, clearly marked on it a few miles away, is the tunnel our heroes are seeking. “Let’s move!” exclaims Nixie. [b][i]Next Time:[/i][/b] Into the Tunnels! [/QUOTE]
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