The Westgate Campaign Chronicles - serial

[Carlo-One]

Trollsblood​

As the four adventurers carefully picked their way through the marshy ground, Dermot took the lead and cautioned the others to be careful where they tread, given his knowledge of the troll traps that Old Hamish normally set. Aerikoth, in response to a question from Rosten, told the hin that he had never met the hermit ranger; in fact, the wizard had not realized his daughter Belle was a former comrade, until it was mentioned. Rosten expressed his liking for the old man and his commitment to staying in the wild - although upon seeing a handwritten sign warning of troll traps, the hin said he would like Hamish a damn sight less if one of them got him.

Dermot called out a warning to hold as they came to the base of the hill where the hermit’s cabin was located, Rosten also spotting a large trap at the same time. The figures of Old Hamish and his dog Runner were barely visible in the mist at the top, as Dermot waved and called out a greeting. Hamish told them to scoot on over to the west and around the stand of trees there, to avoid the traps. The adventurers complied and after a funny look at the wizard by Hamish and a request from their host, Aerikoth unsummoned his Dire Tiger before they entered the open cabin door.

Dermot introduced Aerikoth and mentioned the wizard had worked with Belle - what Old Hamish had figured, he said, as he bent down to start a fire with flint and tinder in the fireplace. Aerikoth stood holding his staff in both hands, his unblinking gaze on the old man, as Rosten – the piratical hin evidently sensing the tension in the room – glanced between them silently. Lloria, ever-practical, piped up and asked if there was any news on the trolls. Smiling for the first time, Hamish said he had found their lair in a nearby swamp and asked if they were still up for destroying the nest. This earned a grunt and nod of affirmation from Rosten and further questions from the others.

The hermit ranger related how the trolls’ nest was in an old ruin, underground. However, he had not gone down into it, as his old bones didn't move as quick as they used to, so he had no idea how many inhabited it. Rosten perked up at the possibility of treasure in the ruin, while Lloria warned that sizable troll dens would usually have a large shaman leading them. Dermot said they could use the chance to fight something real and mentioned he brought some firepowder traps of his own. Old Hamish commented that it was nothing some intrepid adventurers couldn’t handle, especially with a wizard who was good at surviving things. These last pointed words, evidently directed at Aerikoth, earned an arched eyebrow from the wizard, who nevertheless remained quietly watching the old man, as Rosten again observed the tension between them. (Old Hamish certainly has not forgotten about his daughter Belle's personal decline after accompanying Aerikoth's party against the ancient lich Ashnakzeroth. Her subsequent death at the hands of trolls would not have happened had she been on form, is no doubt what he thinks...and this is perhaps the case. How deep will a father's love and hate go under these circumstances? Does he truly blame Aerikoth for his daughter's death? --C)

 

[Carlo-One]

After a short discussion, Lloria and Aerikoth’s caution and desire for better preparation overrode Rosten’s desire to immediately depart for the troll den. Old Hamish with a chuckle then offered them the dubious comfort of the floor of the cabin for the night, but said they would have to feed themselves, since he did not have enough stored for a feast. Aerikoth declined the offer and said he would be outside, if any wished to depart via teleport along with the mage, who evidently preferred less rustic surroundings for the night.

Old Hamish turned his back to the party as he tended the fireplace, rearranging a few of the burning sticks with an old metal poker. He mentioned again they would be welcome, not wanting to imply there was no hospitality, but confessing he had little in the way of extra victuals. However, he also mentioned that he had been saving some spirits for a special occasion, a note of enthusiasm creeping into his voice.

Lloria in response started unpacking her things and set up a spot by the front door. She commented idly, as she braced her halberd against the door as a blocker, that she would be staying the night, but would save any special drinks for after the hunt. She ditched the bulk of her armor plating, reducing down to the maille coat underneath for sleeping in. The rest of her stuff and weapons were kept nearby and in reach, with her armor resting atop her bags.

Their teleportation to the cabin having been a comparatively smooth ride, Rosten at first seemed to be minded to follow Aerikoth. He turned for the door, anticipating some kind of warm and magickal shelter to be the wizard's destination. His ears perked up suddenly at the mention of spirits, though, echoing the word with some eagerness. Lloria chided the hin for the idea of getting drunk before a raid on the troll den, but Old Hamish let out a deep chuckle and said that the old saying wasn’t “Eat, drink and be merry after you go into battle.”

The tracker explained to the others, the fire dancing behind him, that he used to have his own still at the cabin. He told Lloria he wasn’t a fool and that it wouldn’t do to have his senses dulled, the hunter becoming the hunted. But when among friends and danger wasn’t present, he asserted, a drink or two of quality could strengthen spirits for what would come. He showed that he had two small stoneware jugs left, saying it seemed auspicious to open one now and then one after, for toasting victory. Rosten was all for splitting both the jugs there and then, but Hamish with another chuckle said one would be good for now.

 

[Carlo-One]

The following morning on Tarsakh 12, Aerikoth teleported back to the cabin entrance and was greeted warily by Old Hamish and his dog Runner, who were out checking the troll traps. The wizard silently acknowledged their presence, then entered the cabin. Surveying his companions inside, he asked if they were all prepared.

Lloria got up from her seat, picking up her shield as the ranger Dermot picked himself up off the floor. As for Rosten, the clearly hungover halfling spit into the fireplace, nodding and grunting in response to Aerikoth's question. They collected their things and exited the cabin, Lloria popping her helmet back on as soon as she saw daylight. Rosten, once outside, lifted his hip flask to his lips and cursed as he found it empty, but then signaled his readiness with an experimental swing of his cutlass and a declaration that it was as good a day to die as any.

Aerikoth inquired how far it was to the troll lair, and Old Hamish said it was a short hike, not too strenuous. However, it was in a nearby swamp, which was rather nasty. The hermit mentioned he had not gone into the lair itself, so could not help with that. His dog Runner sniffed uncertainly at Dermot’s wolf companion Connagh, but both were then reassured about the other’s presence by their masters and accepted the situation.

Prior to setting out, Lloria shared her intention to harvest some troll blood. She had the necessary vials prepared, but the blood needed to be fresh. She would therefore try to keep the last troll in a group alive and pinned down long enough to get what she needed. Dermot thought that sounded right awkward. Aerikoth offered a magical solution, noting that if a troll could be subdued, he could change it into something more amenable for travel – the Quivering Thumb in Westgate was paying for magical creatures to use in the arena – and then Lloria could have as much blood as she needed.

The group was finally ready to set out and Hamish directed Runner to guard the cabin as he limped along in the direction of the swamp, pointing out where to avoid his troll traps. It was not in fact long before they arrived and Hamish began pointing out hazards such as swamp gas and snakes. He also indicated the spot of ground to the northwest, where the trolls had their lair under a ruin. Aerikoth directed the others to remain still for a few moments, while he cast protective spells on his companions. Hamish declined magical protection, saying that he would be staying topside and it should be saved for the others. The old hermit said that even if he wouldn’t be of use in the underground ruin, at least he could keep any swamp critters from coming down the circular stair after them.

After tramping through the filthy swamp and fending off some snakes, the five reached the site of the ruin and stood by the staircase entrance. Covered from head to foot in swamp-filth and grimacing at the smell from the lair, Rosten looked up as it began to rain. Lloria took a moment to examine the surrounding ruins, looking for any language runes or architectural elements she might recognize; however, the aboveground portion of the ruin was quite decayed and swamp growth covered the stone, so she could not tell anything specific about it. The four adventurers declared themselves ready and descended the noxious-smelling staircase, as Old Hamish leaned against a nearby wall, looking out for any creatures.