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The Whiterock Castle Campaign- Nothing better than a good old sausage in you.
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<blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 4264906" data-attributes="member: 16069"><p>Turn 15: His beard’s lovely.</p><p></p><p>The Sinister Secret of Whiterock</p><p></p><p>“Helloooo. Helloooo.” Twiglet runs after Cestode, Grungarak and Gina a little behind, they share a look, Gina shrugs up at the Half-Orc. Twiglet’s skipping.</p><p></p><p>Cestode spins around, “I am Cestode…”</p><p>“I know.” Twiglet slurs, which stops Cestode in his path.</p><p>The others catch up.</p><p></p><p>“We’re here to help Sir Dwarf.” Gina states and proffers her hand, “Gina, Priest of Garl, at your service.”</p><p>Grungarak nods, “This is Grungarak.” Gina offers, “and this…”</p><p>“I’m Twiglet, you can call me Twiggy.” Twiglet half curtsies then remembers, and bows- clears his throat once or twice, drops an octave and grumbles “pleased to meet you Cestode.”</p><p></p><p>Cestode takes them all in.</p><p></p><p>“Thanks. Well- it’s this way isn’t it?” And before anyone can answer heads off.</p><p></p><p>They fall in line, Gina and Twiglet at the back, “his beards lovely”, Twiglet whispers to the Gnome, who smiles politely back.</p><p></p><p>Twenty minutes later the fields end and the hills start, and there on a rocky scarp is the monolith, their destination- Farmer Palmer’s kids it seems have entered the dark place below the worn stone.</p><p></p><p>They crowd round the thing, to one side a rough stone stair leads down into darkness.</p><p></p><p>“I shall lead the way, fear not comrades for my steel shall lay low any that seek to harm us- the children will be back in home before bedtime or my name’s not Cestode…”</p><p>“Hang on.” Gina states, she’s found something. “There’s writing, rather runes, ancient Gnomish, warnings really, something about Poderon.”</p><p>“Poderon?” Twiglet asks.</p><p>“The Trickster, a minor Gnomish deity fond of pranks and games- traps to be precise; this must be some sort of Gnome redoubt… perhaps.” Gina can’t help herself, she grins from ear-to-ear, her hand finds the stone device her Uncle gave her- it’s hidden away in her pocket.</p><p>“We best get on then.” Gina states and grins some more.</p><p></p><p>Cestode leads the way down into the darkness.</p><p></p><p>Shallow stone stairs descend into a small, unlit chamber. Thick, dusty cobwebs cover the ceiling and corners; the air is stale with age. In the far corner of the room is a battered husk of an old crate.</p><p></p><p>A torch flares, Gina waves the flame around to chase away the shadows.</p><p></p><p>There’s a flagged passage heading south, Grungarak draws his weapon and heads over to take a look. </p><p></p><p>“Look there.” Cestode points, wedged in the corner with the crate is a skull- picked clean, a dwarven skull.</p><p></p><p>“Beware friends- who knows what foul creatures infect this place.” Cestode grimaces.</p><p></p><p>“Oh he’s so… so… dreamy.” Twiglet whispers.</p><p>Gina grins back at the Dwarf.</p><p></p><p>“I shall remove the skull of our ancient ancestor Twiggy, this brave fallen warrior’s spirit can at last be set free from his immortal torment.” Cestode strides over.</p><p>“I wouldn’t, I mean…” Twiglet trails off.</p><p>“Speak stout Dwarven warrior.” Cestode commands.</p><p>Twiglet goes weak in the knees for a moment, recovers, clears his throat once or twice and grumbles, “it is likely a trap stout, I mean brave, Protector of Moradin- I think all that junk around it’s holding the ceiling up.”</p><p>Cestode looks again, and really has no idea what he’s looking at, nevertheless he looks determined, he even goes so far to adopt a determined pose, “you speak the truth of it.” Cestode nods sagely.</p><p></p><p>“He’s so determined.” Twiglet whispers.</p><p>Gina nods some more.</p><p></p><p>Grungarak appears back in the chamber, “corridor ends at a door- silent, suspicious.” The Half-Orc gestures back over his shoulder.</p><p></p><p>“Then let us breach the door, for we must strive to return the lost children to the succour of their family.” Cestode marches past the Half-Orc, heads off down the corridor, he doesn’t get far.</p><p></p><p>“Or we could try the secret door, over here.” Twiglet states, and points at a blank area of stone wall directly opposite the stairs down.</p><p></p><p>Cestode about turns, seamlessly, and strides back into the chamber, “Ah yes”, he chuckles, “well done brave Twiggy- I, of course, spotted the secret door earlier- you have passed the test, truly you are both brave and stout, good work soldier.” Cestode grips Twiglets arm for a moment, long enough for Twiglet to melt a little inside, the Paladin of Moradin strides over to the far wall- looks at it blankly for a moment before turning back.</p><p></p><p>“I will ready my axe- now open the way.”</p><p></p><p>Twiglet scurries on ahead, feet hardly touching the ground, to the wall, thumps a spot about half way up and the section of stone, slightly to the right of Cestode, slides aside, the Paladin of Moradin adjusts his stance so that he’s facing in the right direction.</p><p></p><p>“Light.” Grungarak murmurs and crouches combat ready.</p><p></p><p>And sure enough, ahead, a light flickers and dances.</p><p></p><p>The adventurers shuffle into the cramped passage, as quietly as they can, then forward into a second chamber.</p><p></p><p>The air is thick with the smell of cooking meat and wood smoke. In the centre of the chamber is a large iron cauldron, blackened with age and soot. A pair of small, pale humanoids, Gnome-like in size and shape, but with fierce fangs and oversized pads on their fingers, kneel near the cauldron, adding sticks to the fire, while a third pulls squirming rats from a bag and tosses them into the stew.</p><p></p><p>“It can’t be.” Gina catches her breath, “no…”, but by then it’s too late.</p><p></p><p>“I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord Moradin when I lay my vengeance upon thee.” </p><p></p><p>Cestode finishes up his speech, the three strange looking Gnome-shaped creatures lay dead, Cestode, Grungrak and Twiglet’s weapons are bloodied- they didn’t last long, nor did they stand a chance.</p><p></p><p>Gina collapses in a heap, sobs and weeps as she pummels her tiny fists into the hard, cold and unmoving stone floor.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Goonalan, post: 4264906, member: 16069"] Turn 15: His beard’s lovely. The Sinister Secret of Whiterock “Helloooo. Helloooo.” Twiglet runs after Cestode, Grungarak and Gina a little behind, they share a look, Gina shrugs up at the Half-Orc. Twiglet’s skipping. Cestode spins around, “I am Cestode…” “I know.” Twiglet slurs, which stops Cestode in his path. The others catch up. “We’re here to help Sir Dwarf.” Gina states and proffers her hand, “Gina, Priest of Garl, at your service.” Grungarak nods, “This is Grungarak.” Gina offers, “and this…” “I’m Twiglet, you can call me Twiggy.” Twiglet half curtsies then remembers, and bows- clears his throat once or twice, drops an octave and grumbles “pleased to meet you Cestode.” Cestode takes them all in. “Thanks. Well- it’s this way isn’t it?” And before anyone can answer heads off. They fall in line, Gina and Twiglet at the back, “his beards lovely”, Twiglet whispers to the Gnome, who smiles politely back. Twenty minutes later the fields end and the hills start, and there on a rocky scarp is the monolith, their destination- Farmer Palmer’s kids it seems have entered the dark place below the worn stone. They crowd round the thing, to one side a rough stone stair leads down into darkness. “I shall lead the way, fear not comrades for my steel shall lay low any that seek to harm us- the children will be back in home before bedtime or my name’s not Cestode…” “Hang on.” Gina states, she’s found something. “There’s writing, rather runes, ancient Gnomish, warnings really, something about Poderon.” “Poderon?” Twiglet asks. “The Trickster, a minor Gnomish deity fond of pranks and games- traps to be precise; this must be some sort of Gnome redoubt… perhaps.” Gina can’t help herself, she grins from ear-to-ear, her hand finds the stone device her Uncle gave her- it’s hidden away in her pocket. “We best get on then.” Gina states and grins some more. Cestode leads the way down into the darkness. Shallow stone stairs descend into a small, unlit chamber. Thick, dusty cobwebs cover the ceiling and corners; the air is stale with age. In the far corner of the room is a battered husk of an old crate. A torch flares, Gina waves the flame around to chase away the shadows. There’s a flagged passage heading south, Grungarak draws his weapon and heads over to take a look. “Look there.” Cestode points, wedged in the corner with the crate is a skull- picked clean, a dwarven skull. “Beware friends- who knows what foul creatures infect this place.” Cestode grimaces. “Oh he’s so… so… dreamy.” Twiglet whispers. Gina grins back at the Dwarf. “I shall remove the skull of our ancient ancestor Twiggy, this brave fallen warrior’s spirit can at last be set free from his immortal torment.” Cestode strides over. “I wouldn’t, I mean…” Twiglet trails off. “Speak stout Dwarven warrior.” Cestode commands. Twiglet goes weak in the knees for a moment, recovers, clears his throat once or twice and grumbles, “it is likely a trap stout, I mean brave, Protector of Moradin- I think all that junk around it’s holding the ceiling up.” Cestode looks again, and really has no idea what he’s looking at, nevertheless he looks determined, he even goes so far to adopt a determined pose, “you speak the truth of it.” Cestode nods sagely. “He’s so determined.” Twiglet whispers. Gina nods some more. Grungarak appears back in the chamber, “corridor ends at a door- silent, suspicious.” The Half-Orc gestures back over his shoulder. “Then let us breach the door, for we must strive to return the lost children to the succour of their family.” Cestode marches past the Half-Orc, heads off down the corridor, he doesn’t get far. “Or we could try the secret door, over here.” Twiglet states, and points at a blank area of stone wall directly opposite the stairs down. Cestode about turns, seamlessly, and strides back into the chamber, “Ah yes”, he chuckles, “well done brave Twiggy- I, of course, spotted the secret door earlier- you have passed the test, truly you are both brave and stout, good work soldier.” Cestode grips Twiglets arm for a moment, long enough for Twiglet to melt a little inside, the Paladin of Moradin strides over to the far wall- looks at it blankly for a moment before turning back. “I will ready my axe- now open the way.” Twiglet scurries on ahead, feet hardly touching the ground, to the wall, thumps a spot about half way up and the section of stone, slightly to the right of Cestode, slides aside, the Paladin of Moradin adjusts his stance so that he’s facing in the right direction. “Light.” Grungarak murmurs and crouches combat ready. And sure enough, ahead, a light flickers and dances. The adventurers shuffle into the cramped passage, as quietly as they can, then forward into a second chamber. The air is thick with the smell of cooking meat and wood smoke. In the centre of the chamber is a large iron cauldron, blackened with age and soot. A pair of small, pale humanoids, Gnome-like in size and shape, but with fierce fangs and oversized pads on their fingers, kneel near the cauldron, adding sticks to the fire, while a third pulls squirming rats from a bag and tosses them into the stew. “It can’t be.” Gina catches her breath, “no…”, but by then it’s too late. “I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord Moradin when I lay my vengeance upon thee.” Cestode finishes up his speech, the three strange looking Gnome-shaped creatures lay dead, Cestode, Grungrak and Twiglet’s weapons are bloodied- they didn’t last long, nor did they stand a chance. Gina collapses in a heap, sobs and weeps as she pummels her tiny fists into the hard, cold and unmoving stone floor. [/QUOTE]
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