Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
The Kordovian Adventurers Guild
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 6807607" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>ADVENTURE 13: PLAYING WITH THEIR FOOD</strong></p><p></p><p>PC Roster: <p style="margin-left: 20px">Binkadink Dundernoggin, gnome fighter 6</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Castillan Ivenheart, elf bounder 6</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Darrien, half-elf ranger 6</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Finoula Cloudshadow, elf ranger 6</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Gilbert Fung, human wizard 6</p><p></p><p>NPC Roster: <p style="margin-left: 20px">Ingebold Battershield, dwarven cleric 6 (Moradin)</p><p></p><p>Game Session Date: 23 January 2016</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>The sun was at its zenith as the mule-driven wagon followed the road into a narrow valley containing a small farming village. A signpost welcomed the adventurers to Harveston, which contained only a few nondescript buildings, one of them – judging by the bell tower and the sun-symbol inscribed upon its side – a small temple to Pelor. Oddly, a tree stump sat in the middle of the small village, one side of its outer trunk much higher than the rest of it.</p><p></p><p>The door to the temple swung open as the group approached, and an elderly human cleric exited, wringing his hands in nervousness and fear. "Oh," he cried in anguish, looking at each of the heroes in turn but seeming to give Ingebold extra attention. "Oh, if only you'd arrived half an hour before!" The gray at his temples and the wrinkles around his eyes marked him to be in his mid-fifties or thereabouts.</p><p></p><p>"What seems to be the problem?" asked Binkadink, still astride his jackalope friend Obvious so he could talk to the human cleric at eye level. Just to his right, Finoula dismounted from her pony, Daisy; her timber wolf, Wrath, plopped on his rump near her feet, tongue lolling to the side as he took in the discussion.</p><p></p><p>"You look to be adventurers," replied <strong>Father Barthel</strong>. "We are in desperate need of your help, for our small village has been terrorized by a band of giants from the hills beyond the valley. But I should start at the beginning.</p><p></p><p>"It began a few weeks ago. A giant strolled into the village, bold as you please, and with a few strokes of his axe chopped down the apple tree that grew right here in the town's center. He said he and his band had decided to take this village under their protection, but he demanded tribute for their efforts. At first, it was every two or three days. He would show up here, throw rocks at the bell to summon us all to the village square, and we were expected to all drop what we were doing and 'show our respect' – that’s what he called it. What that meant was giving him a fat hog or a sheep for him to take back to their lair and slaughter.</p><p></p><p>"We didn’t much like this arrangement," continued Father Barthel, "but what could we do? We're a small group of farmers, nothing more. We paid the price, every few days or so.</p><p></p><p>"Then, three days ago, one of the farmers, <strong>Buck Hensley</strong>, decided to go get help from one of the neighboring communities. That turned out to be a bad idea. Two days ago, the giant showed back up, and once he had us all assembled before him, he reached into this bag he carried, and he-- he pulled out Buck's head. He said he was disappointed in our lack of faith in their ability to keep us all safe. He said we'd have to be punished. He...he said they weren't going to be satisfied with a pig or a sheep this time. They wanted Buck Hensley's wife, <strong>Verna</strong>."</p><p></p><p>The cleric licked his lips, his throat going dry from the memories. "Again, what could we do?" he pleaded. "The giant said we could either turn over Verna to him, or he'd be back with the whole gang and they'd just slaughter us all.</p><p></p><p>"To my shame...we...we let him take Verna." The cleric looked down at his feet, unable to meet the stares of the heroes gathered around him.</p><p></p><p>"The giant came back this morning," he continued, his voice barely audible. "We were hoping they'd go back to accepting a pig, but it seems they've developed a taste for human flesh. The giant allowed us to pick who would go back to their lair with him this morning. <strong>Sherman Goodhost</strong>, he had a guest staying with him, a traveler named <strong>Rebo</strong>.... We roused him from his bed, and we gave him to the giant not a half an hour ago. He was a stranger, you see, not one of us.... We didn't know what else to do!"</p><p></p><p>He looked back up at the group with a look of anguish on his face. "Please – I beg of you – save us from this hell! Rid of us the giants, before they pick us all off, one by one!" Father Barthel looked hopefully from one hero to the next, but seemed to have a hard time making eye contact with Ingebold, once he'd seen the holy symbol of Moradin she wore around her neck. His shame was so much greater in the presence of another cleric of a goodly god.</p><p></p><p>"Can ye tell us more about this giant?" asked the dwarf. "And about how many there be in this band of his?"</p><p></p><p>Father Barthel gave as good a description as he could of the sole giant the villagers had dealt with thus far, the one who came down and sat on his homemade "throne" that was once the apple tree growing in the middle of the village square. From the way he described him, especially the cleric's best estimation of the giant's height, Finoula and Darrien determined they were likely dealing with an ogre. But Father Barthel had no idea how many other ogres there might be living with this one.</p><p></p><p>"Do you know the location of their lair?" asked Darrien.</p><p></p><p>"Not its exact location," admitted Father Barthel. "But he always comes from this direction" - he pointed to the north of the village - "and heads back that way after we've given him his tribute. It leads into rocky hill country - I don't think your wagon would be able to make it, although your pony and this...horned, bunny thing...would likely have no trouble making the trip."</p><p></p><p>"So how do we want to approach this?" asked Castillan. "Shall we hide out here until the next tribute day, and take him down six to one?"</p><p></p><p>"Castillan!" scolded Finoula. "We can't leave that traveler, Rebo, in the giants' clutches!" Turning to the cleric of Pelor, she asked, "You said they had about a half hour head start on us?"</p><p></p><p>"About that, yes," confirmed Father Barthel.</p><p></p><p>"Okay, here the deal," piped up Gilbert, speaking to the cleric for the first time. "We leave our mules and wagon here, but we leave horned bunny thing and wolf here too. They keep eye on wagon, make sure none our stuff go missing." If Father Barthel was insulted by the insinuation, he knew better than to say anything aloud to the people who might be able to solve their giant problem once and for all. He heartily agreed to keep the wagon parked right outside his small temple, and, excusing himself, ran inside for a moment. He returned with three glass potion vials. Handing them over to Ingebold, he said, "These may be of use to you. They are <em>potions of cure light wounds</em>, the last source of healing available to us." Swallowing down his embarrassment, he admitted, "Pelor has not seen fit to grant me spells since we handed Verna over to the giants."</p><p></p><p>"Thank ye," said Ingebold, taking the potions. "We'll use them only if absolutely necessary," she promised.</p><p></p><p>"We'd better get going, if we're to catch up with the giants before Rebo becomes their next meal," pointed out Darrien. He was eager to track them down to their lair.</p><p></p><p>And tracking them to their lair was a ridiculously easy prospect - it was as if the ogre didn't care in the least about hiding his trail. Following his tracks, Darrien saw numerous places where the ogre could have easily avoided leaving a nice wet footprint in a patch of mud but didn't bother; it seemed the ogres had no concerns about being tracked down by a group of weakling farmers. Older foot traffic - apparently made by the same pair of ogre-sized boots - verified that this trail had been used on numerous occasions in the past.</p><p></p><p>The trail did lead up to rocky hills, where footprints were few and far between, but Darrien and Finoula were well-versed in tracking prey and had no trouble finding enough evidence that the ogre and his human captive had continued on this way. The trail led to a cave opening in the side of a hill, partially obscured by shadows from an overhanging slab of stone.</p><p></p><p>"That likely the place," whispered Gilbert, casting an extended version of the <em>mage armor</em> spell upon himself in an equally low tone.</p><p></p><p>"Let's go," offered Darrien, leading the way, his Arachnibow out and an arrow nocked and ready to shoot.</p><p></p><p>"Wait for me," hissed Binkadink, scooting forward on his extended gnomish stilt-boots. The little gnome stood all of about three feet high but prided himself on being their "meat shield" - the front-line fighter willing to take the brunt of the attacks of whatever enemy they were fighting.</p><p></p><p>As they approached, they heard a low growling from the shadows of the cave and a shaggy head peeked out from the side of the cave's opening. Darrien recognized it immediately as a dire wolf and let fly with his readied arrow, causing a yelp of pain when it struck true. The dire wolf raced around the corner to stand immediately in the cave's entrance, but was cut deeply by a swing from the gnome fighter's trusty glaive before he could get to the heroes. A blast of <em>magic missiles</em> from Gilbert's wand ended the wolf's life before he could sink his wicked fangs into any of the adventurers.</p><p></p><p>But the dire wolf wasn't alone - coming around the corner stepped another of these vicious beasts, snarling and growling in hunger. Binkadink crawled over the corpse of the first dire wolf to get to the second; behind him, Castillan took a running leap and hurtled over the corpse, springing off the new threat's head to somersault to a stop directly behind him. A snap of his fingers in mid-somersault had magically summoned his short sword to his hand, which he stabbed deep into the dire wolf's flank. The beast roared in pain and spun around at this new threat, allowing Binkadink to cut deep into the creature's other side with his trusty glaive. Behind the first corpse, Darrien shot another couple of arrows into the wolf's shaggy body, and then it, too, slumped to the stone floor of the cave, dead.</p><p></p><p>Entering the cave, Gilbert cast a <em>darkvision</em> spell upon himself, surprised at how everything suddenly came blazing into focus - even if it was all in black and white. <em>Handy spell</em>, he thought to himself. Finoula opened her pack and pulled out an <em>everburning torch</em> matching the one tied to one of the antlers on Binkadink's metal helm. But the elven ranger had been practicing attacking with a weapon each hand and didn't want to forego a second attack by holding the torch. So she summoned the gnome over and took a moment to tie her torch to the gnome's other antler. "At least now you're symmetrical," she said, smiling.</p><p></p><p>Side caverns split off from the central cave to the east and west, while directly ahead to the north, the cave floor suddenly dropped off to another level some twenty feet lower. Checking out the way to the east first, Castillan found a crudely-stitched patchwork of mangy furs hanging from the ceiling. Pushing it aside with a gloved hand, he found a pile of furs making up a simple bed. An unlocked wooden chest standing against the back wall looked inviting; seeing no obvious traps, the bounder opened the lid to find it nearly full of assorted coins and gems. He looked suspiciously around the room, seeking out traps and finding none.</p><p></p><p>"This is a lot of treasure to be just sitting here," he observed.</p><p></p><p>"Leave it," commanded Gilbert. "We get it on way out."</p><p></p><p>The next chamber over was another den of sorts, a dead-end cavern containing a torn, lumpy canvas tent that looked as if it had blown over in a heavy wind. Binkadink peeked into the tent (deducing that whatever giant slept here likely used it as a blanket, for there were no tent poles propping it up), he found a canvas sack easily large enough to cart the gnome around in. Opening it, he found another pile of mixed coins and gems. "This is too easy," he exclaimed. "Hold up a second; I want to try something." The little gnome closed his eyes, steadied his mind, and then snapped his eyelids back open, hoping to see through whatever illusion might be cloaking the room's true contents. But there didn't seem to be any illusion; collecting this treasure really <em>was</em> apparently this easy. "Hmmm," Binkadink said to himself, before giving the sack of coins and gems a final, wistful look and leaving it behind where it sat.</p><p></p><p>Nobody was quite so willing to explore the next chamber, though - it was creepy. Scores, if not hundreds, of large finger bones hung dangling by what looked to be dried tendons from the ceiling, forming a macabre type of beaded curtain, through which the heroes could see an overly-large hammock made of some type of warty, greenish leather.</p><p></p><p>"What is that, toad skin?" asked Finoula.</p><p></p><p>"Go check it out and see," suggested Darrien.</p><p></p><p>"No, thank you," replied the elf to the half-elf.</p><p></p><p>Darrien squinted through the ghoulish curtains. "There's something shiny underneath the hammock," he pointed out.</p><p></p><p>"Go in and check it out," spurred on Finoula.</p><p></p><p>"No thank you," echoed the half-elf to the elf.</p><p></p><p>"I no think that toad skin," piped up Gilbert. "Move out of way." The heavyset wizard walked up to the hanging finger bones, extended a wand between the strands, and fired off a <em>magic missile</em> from the lesser of his two wands. It struck the hammock, leaving a slightly blackened area where it hit. The wizard watched to see if the damaged area would "heal" itself of the damage; even though it didn't, he surmised, "I think that skin from troll."</p><p></p><p>"Ew!" remarked Finoula, wrinkling her nose in disgust and walking away from the chamber. She approached the ledge, and heard a sound - somewhat like a raspy laugh made by a rather large creature, echoing throughout the empty caverns to the north.</p><p></p><p>"Guys!" she called. The others followed her to the floor's edge, where it dropped down to a lower level. The enormous cavern below them had four other passageways branching off from it, but its most distinctive feature was the wooden cage standing in the middle of the chamber. It had been crafted of sturdy branches tied together into a rough cube some ten feet to a side. A rusty chain rose straight up from the cage's top, through a couple of pulleys mounted to hanging stalactites, with its end dangling directly above the group's heads, although high enough up that they hadn't noticed the chain when first entering this upper chamber.</p><p></p><p>"Is Rebo in the cage?" asked Darrien, squinting in the poor light.</p><p></p><p>"Nay, 'tis empty," replied Ingebold.</p><p></p><p>"We go down," decided Gilbert, unpacking his grappling hook and looking around for a place to anchor it. Finding a suitable area, he tossed the coil of rope down to the lower level.</p><p></p><p>"I'll go first," offered Binkadink, lowering his stilt-boots for the climb down; it would have been somewhat awkward making the attempt with them fully extended. Once he made it safely to the bottom he re-extended his stilt boots, regaining his former human height while Finoula headed over to start climbing down the anchored rope next.</p><p></p><p>"Before you climb down, I have something for you," announced Gilbert, casting a spell on his hand and then smacking the ranger's butt immediately after. As had happened the first time he'd tried that means of applying a touch spell to Finoula, the wizard got a slap across the face for his efforts.</p><p></p><p>"What?" complained Gilbert, rubbing his sore cheek. "I cast <em>magic circle against evil</em> spell on you! You welcome, by the way!"</p><p></p><p>"Find a new way of casting it," warned the ranger, rappelling down the short cliffside via the rope and joining Binkadink on the lower level, where she pulled out her two swords once again. Above them, Darrien had his <em>Arachnibow</em> nocked and ready to shoot at anything that might approach the duo.</p><p></p><p>He got his opportunity almost at once. Emerging up a set of naturally-occurring stairs on the floor of the lower cavern's southeastern passageway stepped an ogre with a greatclub balanced over a meaty shoulder. "Wha--?" he gaped at the sight of the two heroes, an elf and a gnome, who had entered the giants' lair willingly. Then <strong>Judlok</strong> grinned an evil grin at the absurdity of self-delivered meals and went sprinting into the cavern, swinging his greatclub off his shoulder and over his head for a downward smash. He picked up an arrow in the upper part of a thick arm during his rush across the cavern but barely seemed to notice.</p><p></p><p>"He's evil!" announced Malaterminus to Finoula via the telepathic link they shared, mere seconds before the greatclub came crashing down on the elf. She rolled with the blow, but it still took the wind out of her and staggered her to one knee. Binkadink stepped forward, glaive slicing into the ogre's massive chest, eliciting a mere grunt of pain from the enormous barbarian as he swung his greatclub over his head for another swing. Darrien shot at him again from the upper ledge; Castillan did likewise before leaping down the cliffside and slowing his fall along the way before dropping catlike onto the lower level; and Gilbert's <em>wand of magic missiles</em> was put to good use, but the ogre's second swing sent Finoula crashing to the cold, stone floor, consciousness having fled as her life's blood oozed out of a gaping gash on the side of her head.</p><p></p><p>Seeing this, Ingebold practically leaped for the rope and slid her way down to the lower level, intending to heal her friend before she bled out. But circumstances forced her to forego her intended actions, for Judlok the ogre, having been severely wounded by being the sole target of a band of six heroes, was starting to feel woozy from loss of blood himself. Forcing himself out of his blood rage in an effort of self-preservation, he scooped up Finoula by the ankle and ran through the nearest exit, to the southwest, dragging his next intended meal behind him.</p><p></p><p>"No!" cried Binkadink, following hard on his heels and trying to cut down the fleeing ogre with his glaive. But the cavern into which Judlok was fleeing was not empty, for stepping forward into the radius of light spilling out from the gnome's antlered helmet was an even larger giant, this one sporting two heads. He held a pair of wicked-looking morningstars in his massive fists, each fashioned from the trunks of smallish trees, out of the ends of which sprang metal spikes in all directions. The gnome was forced to direct his attention toward this new, and much greater, threat.</p><p></p><p>Fortunately, Castillan had the little gnome's back. Taking careful aim with his shortbow, he fired a shot into the back of Judlok's head, and the ogre barbarian pitched forward, releasing Finoula's ankle as he died. The elven ranger was close to death herself by this time, but Ingebold managed to grab her up by the shoulders. Realizing that healing her right there and then would be putting the two of them at risk, she scooted backwards, dragging Finoula out of harm's way where she could heal the fallen elf at her leisure while the others provided cover.</p><p></p><p>Binkadink swung his glaive at the massive ettin, but <strong>Vorr-Gorr</strong> parried it away with a sideswipe of a giant morningstar. And out of the corner of his eye, the gnome spotted movement coming from the south. Sparing a quick glance, he felt a momentary stab of fear as he watched yet another giant approach, this one very familiar as the group had only recently discovered a green-skinned troll bound in the cave of the ghostly lizardfolk. This troll, however, was not a bound captive but a full member of this small band of misfit giants; <strong>Vangar Wartyskin</strong> sidled up nonchalantly to the gnome trading blows with Vorr-Gorr, apparently in no real hurry to slay the intruder and completely convinced of the eventual outcome of the combat.</p><p></p><p>By then, Gilbert had made it down the rope to the lower level and blasted the ettin with his more powerful <em>wand of magic missiles</em> - which, he noted with chagrin, was getting low of charges. From his vantage point near the cage, he was able to see the troll enter the passageway opening into the larger chamber, Binkadink tactically retreating before him.</p><p></p><p>"I <em>knew</em> that troll-hide!" he declared, thinking back to the hammock on the level above. Apparently Vangar Wartyskin had no qualms about carving apart his own body to provide raw materials for projects as needed. In fact, standing by the cage, the wizard couldn't help but notice that the tree limbs of the cage seemed to be tightly bound together using the same sort of sinew from which dangled the hundreds of finger bones in the troll's den above....</p><p></p><p>From his perch, Darrien was able to target the ettin once the brute stepped forward in an attempt to get at Binkadink. Gilbert made some quick mental calculations and fired off a <em>fireball</em> spell that completely engulfed Vorr-Gorr and partially covered Vangar without encompassing Binkadink as well. The ettin roared in pain with two voices, the echoes dancing around and around the voluminous caverns.</p><p></p><p>About this time, another giant entered the scene, this time from the passageway directly to the north. This was the hill giant <strong>Graff</strong>, who had taken time from their game of who-can-hunt-down-the-prey-first to get the cookfire started in the northernmost cavern, which had an air passage to the surface above. He stormed out into the chamber with the cage, amazed to see a group of adventurers in active combat with the other members of his band - save for Judlok, who he now saw was dead on the ground. Picking up a hefty stone, he pitched it at Castillan without missing a stride. Fortunately for the bounder, he saw the stone coming his way and ducked; the stone likewise went sailing harmlessly over Ingebold's head as she bent to cast a second healing spell on Finoula, who suddenly sat up and looked about her in shock, trying to catch up to what was going on since she'd been knocked out.</p><p></p><p>Seeing the hill giant about to enter the fray, and noticing that he was standing next to the massive cage, she cast an <em>entangle</em> spell directly at the branches of the handcrafted enclosure. The cage warped and buckled, reaching out at Graff and entwining twisted limbs around the startled giant.</p><p></p><p>At about this time, Binkadink had successfully slain Vorr-Gorr, slicing his glaive in a downward thrust between the two heads and cutting deep into the ettin's chest. Vorr looked at Gorr in shock; Gorr returned his gaze, and then four eyes all rolled up into the twin heads as the two-headed giant collapsed to the ground, nearly pulling Binkadink's glaive along with it. Vangar Wartyskin tried swiping at the gnome with a set of wicked claws, but the canny fighter dodged below the trolls' digits by lowering his stilt-boots in the nick of time.</p><p></p><p>Then the little gnome came to a decision: the troll was slowly regenerating the wounds he and the archers were dealing to it; better to leave the troll to Gilbert and his fire spells and concentrate his own efforts where they could do the most good. With that, he spun around on his heels and brought his glaive crashing down upon Graff the hill giant in a powerful overhead swing. Vangar darted forth, eager to grab up the gnome that had foolishly turned his back on him, but was hit by a charge from Gilbert's <em>wand of burning hands</em>. Vangar cried out in pain as the flames burned his skin, while Finoula darted back into the fight, Malaterminus slicing in underneath the sheet of flame and cutting a gouge down the creature's midsection. Surprisingly, before the gash could heal itself back up, several golden coins spilled out from the troll's skin, clattering onto the stone ground. (It was a sound that immediately drew Castillan's attention, attuned as he was to the various sweet music made by money. But then the elf returned his attention to the fight, sending an arrow deep into the entangled hill giant's throat.)</p><p></p><p>Darrien's arrows from above and Binkadink's slashing glaive eventually finished off the hill giant, and Finoula, seeing this, mentally dismissed her <em>entangle</em> spell so it would be safe for her and her allies to walk past the cage without being attacked by the thrashing tree limbs. That left only Vangar Wartyskin, and Gilbert still had one <em>fireball</em> spell ready to fire.... The troll didn't last long after that.</p><p></p><p>After Vangar crashed to the ground, Binkadink decided to play it safe: knowing of the troll's incredible regenerative powers, he hacked at it again and again with his glaive, coins spilling out of the corpse with each blow. Then, satisfied with his work, he declared, "That'll take him a good bit of time to heal back up!" and sent Castillan over to the giant's cookfire in the chamber to the north to fetch a burning log with which to set the troll's corpse ablaze, just to be sure. Castillan, though, subcontracted the "fetch-a-burning-log" mission to Finoula, as he had a better use of his time: namely, slicing through the troll's skin for the many coins hidden within. "He's a walking treasure trove!" chortled the bounder with glee.</p><p></p><p>"Ew!" commented Finoula, passing the burning log to Castillan. "Why in the world would he have done that?"</p><p></p><p>"Two reasons," surmised Gilbert. "One: treasure stay by him, nobody steal it. Two: he get to wear armor under skin."</p><p></p><p>"Ew!" repeated Finoula.</p><p></p><p>Another figure approached from the passage the troll had taken from the south. But this was no giant, rather, a frightened-looking human in a travel robe over his clothes. "Is it safe?" he asked of the group at large.</p><p></p><p>"Ye must be Rebo," said Ingebold, stepping forward. "Aye, it be safe - th' giants're all dead. Here, ye look to be needin' a drink." She passed over her waterskin, allowing the frightened Rebo to drink deeply. "We'll escort ye back to Harveston, to fetch yer belongings."</p><p></p><p>"Those traitorous bastards!" declared Rebo. "They turned me over to that brute, knowing I'd be eaten alive!"</p><p></p><p>"Aye," admitted Ingebold. "They were frightened, out of their league. But we'll let no harm come to ye." It took some effort to calm Rebo down, but they eventually managed to dissuade him from his stated goal of wiping out the villagers.</p><p></p><p>"We grab up a few things before we leave," explained Gilbert once everyone had climbed back up to the upper level. Then he sent various members of the group to grab up the treasure they'd found in the giants' dens they'd explored thus far. The glint of light from beneath Vangar Wartyskin's hammock turned out to be from two largish gemstones, apparently too big for him to hide beneath his own skin. And they checked out Vorr-Gorr's den to the west, which they hadn't explored yet, finding a leather sack full of gems and coins - and a chunk of amber on a golden chain, with a praying mantis trapped inside it - hidden beneath a rock. Gathering up their various treasures, the adventurers returned back the way they had come.</p><p></p><p>Upon their arrival, Father Barthel gave a broad grin that quickly broke into full out chortles of glee. "We are saved!" he cried out jubilantly. Gilbert oversaw the loading up of the wagon, while Ingebold went with Rebo to fetch the belongings he'd left behind in the spare room of Sherman Goodhost - who passed the goods over to Rebo without looking him in the eye or saying a single word.</p><p></p><p>Before continuing on to the north, Ingebold returned the three unused healing potions to Father Barthel. "Thank you," said the cleric. Ingebold noticed that while they had been packing up the wagon, Father Barthel had been packing as well. He no longer wore the robes of a cleric of Pelor, although the sun god's holy symbol was still prominently displayed on a pendant around Barthel's neck. "I am of no good to my flock, after my actions," he said in way of explanation. "I will journey to the south, to one of Pelor's monasteries, to seek atonement. In the meantime, this will be the only source of healing for the village until either I return, restored, or a new cleric is sent to tend to the village's spiritual needs."</p><p></p><p>"Good luck to ye, then," replied Ingebold.</p><p></p><p>"And to you," responded Barthel. And with that, the heroes climbed into their saddles or onto the fully-loaded wagon, and returned to the road leading north, back to Kordovia.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>T-Shirt Worn: Three years ago, Dan and Vicki got me a black T-shirt for Christmas with the caption "Chaotic Evil means never having to say you're sorry." Since all four giants were chaotic evil, it seemed appropriate.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 6807607, member: 508"] [b]ADVENTURE 13: PLAYING WITH THEIR FOOD[/b] PC Roster: [INDENT]Binkadink Dundernoggin, gnome fighter 6 Castillan Ivenheart, elf bounder 6 Darrien, half-elf ranger 6 Finoula Cloudshadow, elf ranger 6 Gilbert Fung, human wizard 6[/INDENT] NPC Roster: [INDENT]Ingebold Battershield, dwarven cleric 6 (Moradin)[/INDENT] Game Session Date: 23 January 2016 - - - The sun was at its zenith as the mule-driven wagon followed the road into a narrow valley containing a small farming village. A signpost welcomed the adventurers to Harveston, which contained only a few nondescript buildings, one of them – judging by the bell tower and the sun-symbol inscribed upon its side – a small temple to Pelor. Oddly, a tree stump sat in the middle of the small village, one side of its outer trunk much higher than the rest of it. The door to the temple swung open as the group approached, and an elderly human cleric exited, wringing his hands in nervousness and fear. "Oh," he cried in anguish, looking at each of the heroes in turn but seeming to give Ingebold extra attention. "Oh, if only you'd arrived half an hour before!" The gray at his temples and the wrinkles around his eyes marked him to be in his mid-fifties or thereabouts. "What seems to be the problem?" asked Binkadink, still astride his jackalope friend Obvious so he could talk to the human cleric at eye level. Just to his right, Finoula dismounted from her pony, Daisy; her timber wolf, Wrath, plopped on his rump near her feet, tongue lolling to the side as he took in the discussion. "You look to be adventurers," replied [b]Father Barthel[/b]. "We are in desperate need of your help, for our small village has been terrorized by a band of giants from the hills beyond the valley. But I should start at the beginning. "It began a few weeks ago. A giant strolled into the village, bold as you please, and with a few strokes of his axe chopped down the apple tree that grew right here in the town's center. He said he and his band had decided to take this village under their protection, but he demanded tribute for their efforts. At first, it was every two or three days. He would show up here, throw rocks at the bell to summon us all to the village square, and we were expected to all drop what we were doing and 'show our respect' – that’s what he called it. What that meant was giving him a fat hog or a sheep for him to take back to their lair and slaughter. "We didn’t much like this arrangement," continued Father Barthel, "but what could we do? We're a small group of farmers, nothing more. We paid the price, every few days or so. "Then, three days ago, one of the farmers, [b]Buck Hensley[/b], decided to go get help from one of the neighboring communities. That turned out to be a bad idea. Two days ago, the giant showed back up, and once he had us all assembled before him, he reached into this bag he carried, and he-- he pulled out Buck's head. He said he was disappointed in our lack of faith in their ability to keep us all safe. He said we'd have to be punished. He...he said they weren't going to be satisfied with a pig or a sheep this time. They wanted Buck Hensley's wife, [b]Verna[/b]." The cleric licked his lips, his throat going dry from the memories. "Again, what could we do?" he pleaded. "The giant said we could either turn over Verna to him, or he'd be back with the whole gang and they'd just slaughter us all. "To my shame...we...we let him take Verna." The cleric looked down at his feet, unable to meet the stares of the heroes gathered around him. "The giant came back this morning," he continued, his voice barely audible. "We were hoping they'd go back to accepting a pig, but it seems they've developed a taste for human flesh. The giant allowed us to pick who would go back to their lair with him this morning. [b]Sherman Goodhost[/b], he had a guest staying with him, a traveler named [b]Rebo[/b].... We roused him from his bed, and we gave him to the giant not a half an hour ago. He was a stranger, you see, not one of us.... We didn't know what else to do!" He looked back up at the group with a look of anguish on his face. "Please – I beg of you – save us from this hell! Rid of us the giants, before they pick us all off, one by one!" Father Barthel looked hopefully from one hero to the next, but seemed to have a hard time making eye contact with Ingebold, once he'd seen the holy symbol of Moradin she wore around her neck. His shame was so much greater in the presence of another cleric of a goodly god. "Can ye tell us more about this giant?" asked the dwarf. "And about how many there be in this band of his?" Father Barthel gave as good a description as he could of the sole giant the villagers had dealt with thus far, the one who came down and sat on his homemade "throne" that was once the apple tree growing in the middle of the village square. From the way he described him, especially the cleric's best estimation of the giant's height, Finoula and Darrien determined they were likely dealing with an ogre. But Father Barthel had no idea how many other ogres there might be living with this one. "Do you know the location of their lair?" asked Darrien. "Not its exact location," admitted Father Barthel. "But he always comes from this direction" - he pointed to the north of the village - "and heads back that way after we've given him his tribute. It leads into rocky hill country - I don't think your wagon would be able to make it, although your pony and this...horned, bunny thing...would likely have no trouble making the trip." "So how do we want to approach this?" asked Castillan. "Shall we hide out here until the next tribute day, and take him down six to one?" "Castillan!" scolded Finoula. "We can't leave that traveler, Rebo, in the giants' clutches!" Turning to the cleric of Pelor, she asked, "You said they had about a half hour head start on us?" "About that, yes," confirmed Father Barthel. "Okay, here the deal," piped up Gilbert, speaking to the cleric for the first time. "We leave our mules and wagon here, but we leave horned bunny thing and wolf here too. They keep eye on wagon, make sure none our stuff go missing." If Father Barthel was insulted by the insinuation, he knew better than to say anything aloud to the people who might be able to solve their giant problem once and for all. He heartily agreed to keep the wagon parked right outside his small temple, and, excusing himself, ran inside for a moment. He returned with three glass potion vials. Handing them over to Ingebold, he said, "These may be of use to you. They are [i]potions of cure light wounds[/i], the last source of healing available to us." Swallowing down his embarrassment, he admitted, "Pelor has not seen fit to grant me spells since we handed Verna over to the giants." "Thank ye," said Ingebold, taking the potions. "We'll use them only if absolutely necessary," she promised. "We'd better get going, if we're to catch up with the giants before Rebo becomes their next meal," pointed out Darrien. He was eager to track them down to their lair. And tracking them to their lair was a ridiculously easy prospect - it was as if the ogre didn't care in the least about hiding his trail. Following his tracks, Darrien saw numerous places where the ogre could have easily avoided leaving a nice wet footprint in a patch of mud but didn't bother; it seemed the ogres had no concerns about being tracked down by a group of weakling farmers. Older foot traffic - apparently made by the same pair of ogre-sized boots - verified that this trail had been used on numerous occasions in the past. The trail did lead up to rocky hills, where footprints were few and far between, but Darrien and Finoula were well-versed in tracking prey and had no trouble finding enough evidence that the ogre and his human captive had continued on this way. The trail led to a cave opening in the side of a hill, partially obscured by shadows from an overhanging slab of stone. "That likely the place," whispered Gilbert, casting an extended version of the [i]mage armor[/i] spell upon himself in an equally low tone. "Let's go," offered Darrien, leading the way, his Arachnibow out and an arrow nocked and ready to shoot. "Wait for me," hissed Binkadink, scooting forward on his extended gnomish stilt-boots. The little gnome stood all of about three feet high but prided himself on being their "meat shield" - the front-line fighter willing to take the brunt of the attacks of whatever enemy they were fighting. As they approached, they heard a low growling from the shadows of the cave and a shaggy head peeked out from the side of the cave's opening. Darrien recognized it immediately as a dire wolf and let fly with his readied arrow, causing a yelp of pain when it struck true. The dire wolf raced around the corner to stand immediately in the cave's entrance, but was cut deeply by a swing from the gnome fighter's trusty glaive before he could get to the heroes. A blast of [i]magic missiles[/i] from Gilbert's wand ended the wolf's life before he could sink his wicked fangs into any of the adventurers. But the dire wolf wasn't alone - coming around the corner stepped another of these vicious beasts, snarling and growling in hunger. Binkadink crawled over the corpse of the first dire wolf to get to the second; behind him, Castillan took a running leap and hurtled over the corpse, springing off the new threat's head to somersault to a stop directly behind him. A snap of his fingers in mid-somersault had magically summoned his short sword to his hand, which he stabbed deep into the dire wolf's flank. The beast roared in pain and spun around at this new threat, allowing Binkadink to cut deep into the creature's other side with his trusty glaive. Behind the first corpse, Darrien shot another couple of arrows into the wolf's shaggy body, and then it, too, slumped to the stone floor of the cave, dead. Entering the cave, Gilbert cast a [i]darkvision[/i] spell upon himself, surprised at how everything suddenly came blazing into focus - even if it was all in black and white. [i]Handy spell[/i], he thought to himself. Finoula opened her pack and pulled out an [i]everburning torch[/i] matching the one tied to one of the antlers on Binkadink's metal helm. But the elven ranger had been practicing attacking with a weapon each hand and didn't want to forego a second attack by holding the torch. So she summoned the gnome over and took a moment to tie her torch to the gnome's other antler. "At least now you're symmetrical," she said, smiling. Side caverns split off from the central cave to the east and west, while directly ahead to the north, the cave floor suddenly dropped off to another level some twenty feet lower. Checking out the way to the east first, Castillan found a crudely-stitched patchwork of mangy furs hanging from the ceiling. Pushing it aside with a gloved hand, he found a pile of furs making up a simple bed. An unlocked wooden chest standing against the back wall looked inviting; seeing no obvious traps, the bounder opened the lid to find it nearly full of assorted coins and gems. He looked suspiciously around the room, seeking out traps and finding none. "This is a lot of treasure to be just sitting here," he observed. "Leave it," commanded Gilbert. "We get it on way out." The next chamber over was another den of sorts, a dead-end cavern containing a torn, lumpy canvas tent that looked as if it had blown over in a heavy wind. Binkadink peeked into the tent (deducing that whatever giant slept here likely used it as a blanket, for there were no tent poles propping it up), he found a canvas sack easily large enough to cart the gnome around in. Opening it, he found another pile of mixed coins and gems. "This is too easy," he exclaimed. "Hold up a second; I want to try something." The little gnome closed his eyes, steadied his mind, and then snapped his eyelids back open, hoping to see through whatever illusion might be cloaking the room's true contents. But there didn't seem to be any illusion; collecting this treasure really [i]was[/i] apparently this easy. "Hmmm," Binkadink said to himself, before giving the sack of coins and gems a final, wistful look and leaving it behind where it sat. Nobody was quite so willing to explore the next chamber, though - it was creepy. Scores, if not hundreds, of large finger bones hung dangling by what looked to be dried tendons from the ceiling, forming a macabre type of beaded curtain, through which the heroes could see an overly-large hammock made of some type of warty, greenish leather. "What is that, toad skin?" asked Finoula. "Go check it out and see," suggested Darrien. "No, thank you," replied the elf to the half-elf. Darrien squinted through the ghoulish curtains. "There's something shiny underneath the hammock," he pointed out. "Go in and check it out," spurred on Finoula. "No thank you," echoed the half-elf to the elf. "I no think that toad skin," piped up Gilbert. "Move out of way." The heavyset wizard walked up to the hanging finger bones, extended a wand between the strands, and fired off a [i]magic missile[/i] from the lesser of his two wands. It struck the hammock, leaving a slightly blackened area where it hit. The wizard watched to see if the damaged area would "heal" itself of the damage; even though it didn't, he surmised, "I think that skin from troll." "Ew!" remarked Finoula, wrinkling her nose in disgust and walking away from the chamber. She approached the ledge, and heard a sound - somewhat like a raspy laugh made by a rather large creature, echoing throughout the empty caverns to the north. "Guys!" she called. The others followed her to the floor's edge, where it dropped down to a lower level. The enormous cavern below them had four other passageways branching off from it, but its most distinctive feature was the wooden cage standing in the middle of the chamber. It had been crafted of sturdy branches tied together into a rough cube some ten feet to a side. A rusty chain rose straight up from the cage's top, through a couple of pulleys mounted to hanging stalactites, with its end dangling directly above the group's heads, although high enough up that they hadn't noticed the chain when first entering this upper chamber. "Is Rebo in the cage?" asked Darrien, squinting in the poor light. "Nay, 'tis empty," replied Ingebold. "We go down," decided Gilbert, unpacking his grappling hook and looking around for a place to anchor it. Finding a suitable area, he tossed the coil of rope down to the lower level. "I'll go first," offered Binkadink, lowering his stilt-boots for the climb down; it would have been somewhat awkward making the attempt with them fully extended. Once he made it safely to the bottom he re-extended his stilt boots, regaining his former human height while Finoula headed over to start climbing down the anchored rope next. "Before you climb down, I have something for you," announced Gilbert, casting a spell on his hand and then smacking the ranger's butt immediately after. As had happened the first time he'd tried that means of applying a touch spell to Finoula, the wizard got a slap across the face for his efforts. "What?" complained Gilbert, rubbing his sore cheek. "I cast [i]magic circle against evil[/i] spell on you! You welcome, by the way!" "Find a new way of casting it," warned the ranger, rappelling down the short cliffside via the rope and joining Binkadink on the lower level, where she pulled out her two swords once again. Above them, Darrien had his [i]Arachnibow[/i] nocked and ready to shoot at anything that might approach the duo. He got his opportunity almost at once. Emerging up a set of naturally-occurring stairs on the floor of the lower cavern's southeastern passageway stepped an ogre with a greatclub balanced over a meaty shoulder. "Wha--?" he gaped at the sight of the two heroes, an elf and a gnome, who had entered the giants' lair willingly. Then [b]Judlok[/b] grinned an evil grin at the absurdity of self-delivered meals and went sprinting into the cavern, swinging his greatclub off his shoulder and over his head for a downward smash. He picked up an arrow in the upper part of a thick arm during his rush across the cavern but barely seemed to notice. "He's evil!" announced Malaterminus to Finoula via the telepathic link they shared, mere seconds before the greatclub came crashing down on the elf. She rolled with the blow, but it still took the wind out of her and staggered her to one knee. Binkadink stepped forward, glaive slicing into the ogre's massive chest, eliciting a mere grunt of pain from the enormous barbarian as he swung his greatclub over his head for another swing. Darrien shot at him again from the upper ledge; Castillan did likewise before leaping down the cliffside and slowing his fall along the way before dropping catlike onto the lower level; and Gilbert's [i]wand of magic missiles[/i] was put to good use, but the ogre's second swing sent Finoula crashing to the cold, stone floor, consciousness having fled as her life's blood oozed out of a gaping gash on the side of her head. Seeing this, Ingebold practically leaped for the rope and slid her way down to the lower level, intending to heal her friend before she bled out. But circumstances forced her to forego her intended actions, for Judlok the ogre, having been severely wounded by being the sole target of a band of six heroes, was starting to feel woozy from loss of blood himself. Forcing himself out of his blood rage in an effort of self-preservation, he scooped up Finoula by the ankle and ran through the nearest exit, to the southwest, dragging his next intended meal behind him. "No!" cried Binkadink, following hard on his heels and trying to cut down the fleeing ogre with his glaive. But the cavern into which Judlok was fleeing was not empty, for stepping forward into the radius of light spilling out from the gnome's antlered helmet was an even larger giant, this one sporting two heads. He held a pair of wicked-looking morningstars in his massive fists, each fashioned from the trunks of smallish trees, out of the ends of which sprang metal spikes in all directions. The gnome was forced to direct his attention toward this new, and much greater, threat. Fortunately, Castillan had the little gnome's back. Taking careful aim with his shortbow, he fired a shot into the back of Judlok's head, and the ogre barbarian pitched forward, releasing Finoula's ankle as he died. The elven ranger was close to death herself by this time, but Ingebold managed to grab her up by the shoulders. Realizing that healing her right there and then would be putting the two of them at risk, she scooted backwards, dragging Finoula out of harm's way where she could heal the fallen elf at her leisure while the others provided cover. Binkadink swung his glaive at the massive ettin, but [b]Vorr-Gorr[/b] parried it away with a sideswipe of a giant morningstar. And out of the corner of his eye, the gnome spotted movement coming from the south. Sparing a quick glance, he felt a momentary stab of fear as he watched yet another giant approach, this one very familiar as the group had only recently discovered a green-skinned troll bound in the cave of the ghostly lizardfolk. This troll, however, was not a bound captive but a full member of this small band of misfit giants; [b]Vangar Wartyskin[/b] sidled up nonchalantly to the gnome trading blows with Vorr-Gorr, apparently in no real hurry to slay the intruder and completely convinced of the eventual outcome of the combat. By then, Gilbert had made it down the rope to the lower level and blasted the ettin with his more powerful [i]wand of magic missiles[/i] - which, he noted with chagrin, was getting low of charges. From his vantage point near the cage, he was able to see the troll enter the passageway opening into the larger chamber, Binkadink tactically retreating before him. "I [i]knew[/i] that troll-hide!" he declared, thinking back to the hammock on the level above. Apparently Vangar Wartyskin had no qualms about carving apart his own body to provide raw materials for projects as needed. In fact, standing by the cage, the wizard couldn't help but notice that the tree limbs of the cage seemed to be tightly bound together using the same sort of sinew from which dangled the hundreds of finger bones in the troll's den above.... From his perch, Darrien was able to target the ettin once the brute stepped forward in an attempt to get at Binkadink. Gilbert made some quick mental calculations and fired off a [i]fireball[/i] spell that completely engulfed Vorr-Gorr and partially covered Vangar without encompassing Binkadink as well. The ettin roared in pain with two voices, the echoes dancing around and around the voluminous caverns. About this time, another giant entered the scene, this time from the passageway directly to the north. This was the hill giant [b]Graff[/b], who had taken time from their game of who-can-hunt-down-the-prey-first to get the cookfire started in the northernmost cavern, which had an air passage to the surface above. He stormed out into the chamber with the cage, amazed to see a group of adventurers in active combat with the other members of his band - save for Judlok, who he now saw was dead on the ground. Picking up a hefty stone, he pitched it at Castillan without missing a stride. Fortunately for the bounder, he saw the stone coming his way and ducked; the stone likewise went sailing harmlessly over Ingebold's head as she bent to cast a second healing spell on Finoula, who suddenly sat up and looked about her in shock, trying to catch up to what was going on since she'd been knocked out. Seeing the hill giant about to enter the fray, and noticing that he was standing next to the massive cage, she cast an [i]entangle[/i] spell directly at the branches of the handcrafted enclosure. The cage warped and buckled, reaching out at Graff and entwining twisted limbs around the startled giant. At about this time, Binkadink had successfully slain Vorr-Gorr, slicing his glaive in a downward thrust between the two heads and cutting deep into the ettin's chest. Vorr looked at Gorr in shock; Gorr returned his gaze, and then four eyes all rolled up into the twin heads as the two-headed giant collapsed to the ground, nearly pulling Binkadink's glaive along with it. Vangar Wartyskin tried swiping at the gnome with a set of wicked claws, but the canny fighter dodged below the trolls' digits by lowering his stilt-boots in the nick of time. Then the little gnome came to a decision: the troll was slowly regenerating the wounds he and the archers were dealing to it; better to leave the troll to Gilbert and his fire spells and concentrate his own efforts where they could do the most good. With that, he spun around on his heels and brought his glaive crashing down upon Graff the hill giant in a powerful overhead swing. Vangar darted forth, eager to grab up the gnome that had foolishly turned his back on him, but was hit by a charge from Gilbert's [i]wand of burning hands[/i]. Vangar cried out in pain as the flames burned his skin, while Finoula darted back into the fight, Malaterminus slicing in underneath the sheet of flame and cutting a gouge down the creature's midsection. Surprisingly, before the gash could heal itself back up, several golden coins spilled out from the troll's skin, clattering onto the stone ground. (It was a sound that immediately drew Castillan's attention, attuned as he was to the various sweet music made by money. But then the elf returned his attention to the fight, sending an arrow deep into the entangled hill giant's throat.) Darrien's arrows from above and Binkadink's slashing glaive eventually finished off the hill giant, and Finoula, seeing this, mentally dismissed her [i]entangle[/i] spell so it would be safe for her and her allies to walk past the cage without being attacked by the thrashing tree limbs. That left only Vangar Wartyskin, and Gilbert still had one [i]fireball[/i] spell ready to fire.... The troll didn't last long after that. After Vangar crashed to the ground, Binkadink decided to play it safe: knowing of the troll's incredible regenerative powers, he hacked at it again and again with his glaive, coins spilling out of the corpse with each blow. Then, satisfied with his work, he declared, "That'll take him a good bit of time to heal back up!" and sent Castillan over to the giant's cookfire in the chamber to the north to fetch a burning log with which to set the troll's corpse ablaze, just to be sure. Castillan, though, subcontracted the "fetch-a-burning-log" mission to Finoula, as he had a better use of his time: namely, slicing through the troll's skin for the many coins hidden within. "He's a walking treasure trove!" chortled the bounder with glee. "Ew!" commented Finoula, passing the burning log to Castillan. "Why in the world would he have done that?" "Two reasons," surmised Gilbert. "One: treasure stay by him, nobody steal it. Two: he get to wear armor under skin." "Ew!" repeated Finoula. Another figure approached from the passage the troll had taken from the south. But this was no giant, rather, a frightened-looking human in a travel robe over his clothes. "Is it safe?" he asked of the group at large. "Ye must be Rebo," said Ingebold, stepping forward. "Aye, it be safe - th' giants're all dead. Here, ye look to be needin' a drink." She passed over her waterskin, allowing the frightened Rebo to drink deeply. "We'll escort ye back to Harveston, to fetch yer belongings." "Those traitorous bastards!" declared Rebo. "They turned me over to that brute, knowing I'd be eaten alive!" "Aye," admitted Ingebold. "They were frightened, out of their league. But we'll let no harm come to ye." It took some effort to calm Rebo down, but they eventually managed to dissuade him from his stated goal of wiping out the villagers. "We grab up a few things before we leave," explained Gilbert once everyone had climbed back up to the upper level. Then he sent various members of the group to grab up the treasure they'd found in the giants' dens they'd explored thus far. The glint of light from beneath Vangar Wartyskin's hammock turned out to be from two largish gemstones, apparently too big for him to hide beneath his own skin. And they checked out Vorr-Gorr's den to the west, which they hadn't explored yet, finding a leather sack full of gems and coins - and a chunk of amber on a golden chain, with a praying mantis trapped inside it - hidden beneath a rock. Gathering up their various treasures, the adventurers returned back the way they had come. Upon their arrival, Father Barthel gave a broad grin that quickly broke into full out chortles of glee. "We are saved!" he cried out jubilantly. Gilbert oversaw the loading up of the wagon, while Ingebold went with Rebo to fetch the belongings he'd left behind in the spare room of Sherman Goodhost - who passed the goods over to Rebo without looking him in the eye or saying a single word. Before continuing on to the north, Ingebold returned the three unused healing potions to Father Barthel. "Thank you," said the cleric. Ingebold noticed that while they had been packing up the wagon, Father Barthel had been packing as well. He no longer wore the robes of a cleric of Pelor, although the sun god's holy symbol was still prominently displayed on a pendant around Barthel's neck. "I am of no good to my flock, after my actions," he said in way of explanation. "I will journey to the south, to one of Pelor's monasteries, to seek atonement. In the meantime, this will be the only source of healing for the village until either I return, restored, or a new cleric is sent to tend to the village's spiritual needs." "Good luck to ye, then," replied Ingebold. "And to you," responded Barthel. And with that, the heroes climbed into their saddles or onto the fully-loaded wagon, and returned to the road leading north, back to Kordovia. - - - T-Shirt Worn: Three years ago, Dan and Vicki got me a black T-shirt for Christmas with the caption "Chaotic Evil means never having to say you're sorry." Since all four giants were chaotic evil, it seemed appropriate. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
The Kordovian Adventurers Guild
Top