See now, that was fantastic stuff, had me wanting to log onto my lil halfling rogue on DDO and do some skulking around
It also puts my DM ears atingle... I have a halfling rogue/ranger (power-gamer) in my tabletop group that will have some fun rp opportunities soon
Thanks!
I had a Halfling Rogue/Ranger in DDo for a good while, loved the little chap; fell out of love with DDo though, too quickly, and with a bump.
More of the same...
Turn 27. “You’re one of them.”
Castle Whiterock: The Upper Ruins of Castle Whiterock (Eventually).
“You have to, really- you must.” Brianna is insistent, and she has money, which for some of the adventurers is all that matters, that and the thought of returning to Cillamar victorious and hailed as heroes.
“Moradin has sent this poor Elven-ish woman into our midst brethren so that we may alleviate her suffering.” Cestode concludes.
Hibberd grins, she’s up for anything that smells like adventure, “I’m game.”
“Good lad.” Cestode gives Hibberd a chuck on the arm.
“Lad? I’m a girl.” Hibberd looks a little put out.
“Well get a hair cut then.” Cestode fires back.
“If there are people that are trapped there- slaves, like you say, then I’ll go, and I’ll find this friend of yours, if it’s the last thing I do.” Twiglet slams his tankard down on the table- he’s developing a mean streak, and he sure knows right from wrong.
“Stout Dwarf Twiggy.” Cestode adds.
“You too.” He replies without a smile.
“Count me in.” Gina smirks, and then wonders why.
Grungarak nods.
“So that’s settled Brian.” Cestode stands and proffers a hand.
“It’s Brianna actually.” The Half-Elf songstress shakes Cestodes hand.
“If you say so.” Cestode has the last word.
They watch Brianna head over to the bar, soon she’s deep in conversation with Lady Chauntessa the owner of the Slumbering Drake.
“Bit moody.” Cestode interrupts the silence.
“Her friend…” Gina starts.
“Sapphira.” Twiglet helps out.
“Sapphira, is missing- you’d be on edge, worried, imagine if you lost someone you loved.” Gina ends the conversation.
Cestode makes his excuses, heads back to his room.
The others stay up a while longer, although not too late, early to bed- early to rise, and they need to be on the road by dawn so they can be back in Whiterock while there’s still plenty of light left in the day- just in case.
They all get a good nights rest, except maybe one, who twists and turns in his sleep- haunted by dreams, he resolves, tomorrow to write a letter home, tell his dad, and his mum, and even his sister, who against his better judgement he misses also- that all is well, that he’s doing good, that he’s trying to make friends.
Sleep eventually takes Cestode.
And the next day they are back at Whiterock, this time on horseback, although for the smaller members of the group make that ponyback.
The place is exactly as they left it, which is a relief, although nobody says it. They find spaces in the stables and leave enough feed and water within reach so that the mounts will not go without, at least for a couple of days. They bar the doors from the outside and head round to the keep and the door they found that goes down into the castle dungeon itself.
Hibberd suddenly pulls up short, she’s a little ahead of the others making her way from shadow to shadow, Cestode’s having trouble keeping her in sight.
“She’s good.” He murmurs.
“What’s that?” Twiglet asks.
“Nothing.” Cestode smiles.
“There’s something going on- listen.” Hibberd states.
So they do, all stand statue for a moment- there’s the sound of a dog, a dog with a sore throat by the sound of things- barking, enraged.
Then another sound- guttural, speech of some sort.
“What’s”, Twiglet begins.
“Orcs.” Grungarak confirms and snarls, he hefts his axe and heads over the first pile of rubble and directly towards the sound.
“Where’s he…” Hibberd starts up, and then joins the end of the queue; all of the adventurers grab their weapons and head off looking for a fight.
They don’t have long to wait.
The grand hall, the one that was not so grand, in the centre of which are three of the hugest Orcs that any of them have ever seen, not that any of them have seen many, if any, Orcs before- except for Half-Orcs, like Grungarak. Huge pale skinned beasts all knotted muscles, each of them armoured, and armed with huge morning stars and heavy crossbows slung on their backs.
“Wait a minute”, Cestode states, “you’re…”
Beyond the Orcs is a dog, a very big dog, a very ugly dog it seems to be fighting with a monstrous centipede, the multi-legged terror is nearly four feet long, it’s also losing the fight- quickly and badly.
And soon it’s no more, the hound crunches through the multi-segmented carapace, wolfs it down- poison glands and all.
“You’re one of them.” Cestode declares.
Grungarak straightens, out of his creeping crouch, steps into the hall and barks one word, “death”, in Orcish, and then half-trots half-runs into the pack of Orcs.
CRUNCH
The first is down and dead, missing much of the right side of its body before the others know what’s hit them.
Twiglet and Cestode motor over, filling the air with their screams- which is enough to break the spirit of the remaining two Orcs, they attempt to run back to the door. Grungarak gives chase, leaving the two Dwarfs facing the huge hound which charges straight for them.
CHUNG
Gina’s crossbow bolt misses the oncoming hound by quite a margin, and the devil dog bowls into Cestode, knocking the Paladin of Moradin back, and nearly over, and taking a bite from his arm in the process. The dwarves swing their axes in unison, both bite deep into the beast, nearly crippling it, the battle is joined, the pair back-pedal as the hound comes again.
“It’s healing.” Gina calls, and sure enough the massive gash that Twiglet inflicted is now less than half the size it was.
Hibberd meanwhile crouches and runs around the outside of the hall, trying to remain out of sight to get closer to the fleeing Orcs, the first of which realises almost too late that it cannot outrun the Half-Orc Ranger and so spins round to meet its foe.
CLANG
Their huge weapons clash and leave both combatants shuddering from the force of the blow. Grungarak is the first however to recover, just by a second or two, but that’s all the time he needs- his greataxe slams into the side of the Orc, severs arteries, breaks ribs, crushes organs- the Orc slumps to the floor dead.
The hound snaps its jaws shut, this time on Twiglet’s hand, wrenches and shakes, brings the stumbling Dwarf to his knees.
“Nooooo.” The beast dances back and then leaps in slavering jaws sent to butcher him.
FWUNCH
That is until Cestode shuffles slightly to the side of the beast and brings his greataxe down with enough force to sever the things spine, the second blow takes care of business.
“Thanks. You saved me.” Twiglet grins.
“Moradin preserve you Twiggy, we’ll fight together to the bitter end.” Cestode replies, and dashes off after the remaining Orc who even now is making his way over the pile of loose rocks, the home straight, at the bottom of the pile is the door they discovered last time, the door to the Orcs domain.
FWUNG
Hibberd’s hand crossbow fires, the dart it fires is tiny, and yet…
Thuck
It buries itself in the last Orcs back in the place he cannot reach, no matter how hard he tries, and he tries- just before he slumps onto the pile of broken stone- dead.
“Good work young lad.” Cestode can’t help himself, he’s impressed, he may have to buy a crossbow one day.
“I’m not a lad, I’m a…” Hibberd calls back.
“Haircut.” Cestode snaps back.
Silence for a while, just the sound of the adventurers collecting their thoughts, healing their wounds, and rifling through the pockets of the dead Orcs for bounty- they find a handful of gold coins.
The door ahead, their destination, is closed still.
