Tsunami's Story Hour

[Breakstone]

By Windsday afternoon, the caravan had reached Venix. The gates slowly opened, revealing a busy merchant town- and a dwarf with an axe.

“Falco!” Karak cried, almost hugging the dwarf if he weren’t so paranoid. “How did you get here? Where’s Gar?”

“I… don’t know how I got here…” Falco sighed. “And Gar… Gar didn’t make it…” Memories of Skyla slowly eating Gar plagued Falco’s mind, but he brushed them away like so many flies.

Jake and Karak quickly introduced Rykken to Falco. The two nodded at each other, a mutual greeting of warriors. The guard at the gate squinted at the dwarf and asked, “Excuse me, sir, are you Falco? I received this message from a carrier falcon to give to you.”

Falco quickly unraveled the scroll. It read:

“Dear Falco,
Please come to Grizzly City at the top of Bear Mountain immediately.
Dire events are taking place, and we need all the help we can get.

-Galapas”

When Karak asked about Galapas, Falco explained the dwarf cleric of the Bear Clan he had met in Alobar’s Adventuring Guild in Kalmet. “That right,” Falco remembered, “I’m now an official member!”

Jake Dragon patted Falco on the back. “Well, folks, I’m glad we’re still alive. Meet me at sundown at the Fox Den Tavern, and I’ll give you your shares of the loot.”

As Jake walked away, Karak leaned over and uncovered a scroll which displayed a number of sketches. “Falco, on the way over here, I was thinking: We need a battle wagon!”

Falco’s eyes gleamed over with dreams of battle. “Yeah…”


The next week and a half were spent in Venix. Falco and Karak poured over plans, making many visits to the lumber mill and smithy. Rykken had decided to travel with them to Bear Mountain. Being a restless man, he looked forward to the adventuring. Meanwhile he was stuck in Venix. Rykken frequented the Fox Den Tavern, in which he, Karak, and Falco had only received 20 gold. “Sorry!” Jake had apologized, “With all the goods that were stolen, this is all I can afford!”

In that very tavern Rykken met some strange folks. First there was Betty, the tender at the bar. She was an eyeful, but Rykken could see there was not much between her ears. Next was Barthuk, the retired adventurer. Whenever Rykken came near, Barthuk would start rambling about one of his old quests for glory. However, at the mention of orc slavers with skull masks, Rykken learned to listen and pick out facts. It turned out that long ago there was an inflation of orc slavers. They wore different color skull masks, each color standing for a different status. When Rykken inquired about the specific statuses, Barthus rambled off about an enemy priest he once fought.

But Rykken wasn’t through. He questioned the tavern’s bard (who then sang a song about Rykken fighting orc slavers), he asked the guards, and he prodded the traveling merchants. Soon he had found that most of the orc slavers (now nicknamed the Skull Slavers) wore White or Gray masks, leaders of small troupes wore Red masks, and high priests wore Purple masks. The great leaders were rumored to wear Midnight-Black skulls. As Rykken passed from the Fox Den Tavern to the Old Oak Lumber Mill, he noted Falco and Karak toting a huge crossbow, known as a ballista, over to a completed, two-story wagon.

“Is the aim correct?” Falco asked.

“Oh yeah!” Karak chuckled. “The Smithy and I tested it ourselves!”

Falco nodded and noticed Rykken. “Say, Rykken, we’ll be moving out by tonight. Hm… we need some horses, don’t we? Karak?”

Karak grimaced as he emptied his coin sack. A single gold piece fell out into the dust. “Don’t worry,” Rykken spoke, “Barthuk at the Fox Den Tavern used to have a steed who had a whole bunch of colts that are now all grown so he can get us two for free at a stable where the bard at the Tavern also happens to work (who knows me well).”

Stunned at the warrior’s bounty of knowledge, the two dwarves could only nod wordlessly. “Well… then…” Falco coughed. “Let’s do this!”

Before the townsfolk of Venix could say their town’s name ten times fast, a huge wagon led by two dark brown steeds was racing down the road up north towards Bear Mountain…


And yet another battle scene awaits...

 

[Breakstone]

By the way, here's an old picture of Gar and Falco. God bless Heromachine and Freezope for image hosting!

By the way, this was before Gar died (the first time) and was reincarnated as an Elf.

 

[Breakstone]

Just a quick explanation of why I fast-forwarded the story hour:

I was lagging behind. A lot. And I figured: I'm never going to catch up, so why not just skip ahead?

In the future, I'll probably type and post the missing texts.

 

[Breakstone]

In two days, the trio and their wagon (pulled by the horses Saturn and Neptune) reached the first signs of civilization in the forest they’d been traveling through. A wooden sign swung by the side of the road. The word Knox was carved into the front. Rykken, who’d been walking the whole time, announced, “Knox is a gnome village. They’re friendly guys. Descendants of metallic dragons, you know.”

Karak harrumphed, “Gnomes… they’re just beardless dwarves with bigger noses…” and urged the horses on.

Soon they were stopped by two tall men in dark robes. They were hunched over, yet at least 7 feet tall. One raised a hand in greeting, its face hidden by an overhanging hood. “No passing through Knox,” the figure hissed.

“What?” Rykken asked. “Why not?”

“Ragnor commands…” the figure announced. “Knox… is no more.”

The second figure let out a high-pitched laughter. Rykken recognized that laughter. Gnolls. Silently drawing his bastard sword, Rykken stepped closer to the hyena-man. “Who is this Ragnor?”

“Ragnor is master!”

“…not for long.” Rykken sliced up with his sword, catching the gnoll in the chin. The beastman flew back with a guttural scream. The other gnoll stopped laughing as Falco’s axe chopped into its face.

Rykken kicked the gnolls into the bushes and the trio continued on, ready for anything. Finally they reached the village of Knox. It was a sight that would haunt their dreams for years to come.

The village may once have been a colorful, lively place, but now it was all in gray. Gnomes, metallic skin dulled by layers of dust, were forced into lines by whip-wielding gnolls. The gnomes drudged back and forth from the gaping mouth of a mine, each carrying a huge chunk of rock or- “Bone…” Rykken whispered. A hill towered over the town, and on top of the hill sat a black carriage.

Falco growled. He HATED slavery. “Gnomes!” he yelled, “We are your saviors! Revolution!” The gnomes looked up with silver eyes, and Falco shuddered. They looked… broken.

However, the dwarf had no time to dwell on it. His shouting had called the attention of the gnoll slavers, who had replaced their whips with bows and arrows. Saturn whinnied as three arrows sunk into her flank. The black carriage on the hill began to roll down.

Falco urged the horses on, turning them towards one of the gnolls. As they closed in the gnoll leapt the the side, only to meet face-to-face with Karak’s warhammer. The black carriage stopped at the bottom of the hill. Out stepped six gnolls and one old man, spectacles placed on the bridge of his axe-beaked nose. One of the gnolls shouted, “Slaves- bow to your master Ragnor!”

Rykken summoned a burst of speed, charging 100 feet in but a moment. He swung in at Ragnor, who simply dodged with agility not usually possessed by such old men. Ragnor pushed up his glasses and clicked his tongue. “You shouldn’t have done that.” The old man swung in with a backhand, but Rykken was able to flip away. After all, this was just an old man, right?

More arrowed buried themselves in Saturn’s hide. Karak leaned over and used Moradin’s eternal health to close the wounds. Falco urged the horses on in a gallop, mowing over a gnoll and heading straight for the slave master himself. Three gnolls closed in on Rykken, brandishing battle axes. The warrior was able to slice a gash across one of the gnolls, who fell to the dull grassy ground in a pool of blood. Rykken turned back to Ragnor, ready to deal damage.

But Ragnor was more than he seemed. His hands began to swell, and, with a sickening rip huge claws burst out from under his skin. He raked twice, once gashing deep into Rykken’s chest and then slicing across his face. The two gnolls, flanking the warrior, chopped in, one sinking his axe into Rykken’s shoulder.

Falco ran over another gnoll and adjusted to make a bee line towards Ragnor. Karak reached down and took out one of the guards with his bloody hammer. Ragnor’s head suddenly sprung forward on a neck too long for any human, and great teeth sprouted from bleeding gums. The “old man” sunk his maw into Rykken’s shoulder, raking claws into the warrior’s throat and finally tearing out a great chunk of flesh. Rykken collapsed to the ground, soaked in his own blood. Ragnor looked up just in time to see the horses coming for him. But the slave master stood his ground. The horse connected, and the whole wagon buckled and came to a stop! Ragnor’s skin was now bulging as if something was trying to push its way out.

Karak shouted, “We must save Rykken!” He grabbed onto Falco’s arm, and, calling upon the strength of Moradin, casted Bull’s Strength. Falco’s magical armor squealed as the dwarf’s muscles grew. Falco leapt off the wagon, planting two feet into Ragnor’s chest. But Ragnor stood his ground, and Falco didn’t make a mark. The dwarf swung his greataxe into- and through- the chest of a gnoll, continuing with the momentum to slice into Ragnor’s arm. He cut the fabric but not the flesh. Ragnor hissed and sliced across Falco’s face as two gnoll axes buried themselves in the dwarf’s back. Saturn and Neptune began to panic and galloped off, pulling the war wagon with them. Karak pulled the reigns and managed to stop the wagon forty feet away, then pulled open a hatch and leapt inside.

Falco cried out, pain etching through every muscle. He grasped Rykken by the foot, spun, and threw him to where the wagon lie. Ragnor and the gnolls closed in, weapons hacking.

One of the gnolls curiously opened a shutter on the wagon, only to be met by a loaded crossbow. The bolt buried itself in the gnoll’s shoulder, and the hyena-man closed the shutter and ran away, arm bleeding fiercely. Karak leapt out of the top of the wagon and called upon Moradin to save Rykken’s life. The great wound on Rykken’s shoulder closed up, bone setting in his arm. The warrior gasped and opened his eyes. “Falco!” he cried.

Karak glanced back to the mob of gnolls, axes flinging blood into the air as they chopped away. It didn’t look like Falco was going to make it-

Suddenly the gnolls were thrown apart as a bloody Falco, barely alive, threw a gnoll over his head and sprinted towards the wagon. “Go!” Falco yelled.

Karak and Rykken climbed onto the wagon, whipping to horses into a mad sprint when Falco grasped onto the back, swung on, and passed out. As they rode off towards the forest, Ragnor cried, “Ha ha ha! No one defeats Ragnor!” The trio could hear the sad groans of the gnomes as they were whipped back into work.



Late that night, Rykken was on guard duty. His mind was plagued with theories of what Ragnor could be. “Werewolf? Doppleganger? Devil?” Rykken had fought many a monster in his mercenary career, but he’d never encountered anything like this.

A rabbit suddenly appeared from under the brushes. White with black spots, the rabbit hopped about by Rykken’s feet. Perplexed by the animal for a while, Rykken finally stepped towards it. The rabbit backed away and started moving down a deer trail, then stopped. Rykken shrugged and continued to follow the rabbit.

It was a long walk over a nearly invisible trail, but finally the rabbit sprinted inside an old hut. Rykken hesitantly followed. The inside of the hut was pitch black, lit only by a single candle on a small, round table. Seated near the table was an ancient gnome woman, the candlelight casting shadows over her wrinkly silver skin. She spoke in a voice like crumpled leaves.

“I’ve been expecting you.”

Before Rykken could say anything more, the gnome began to chant:

“Ragnor the Sorcerer, not what he seems
Not harmed by weapons, no matter how keen.
Sold his soul to the devil, now feels no pain,
However St Cuthbert has Ragnor’s Bane.
Under the temple, through Green Death’s Door
Through test after test one must explore
To a guarded pond- that’s the location
For a blessing of a day’s duration.

RAGNOR MUST DIE!”

 

[Breakstone]

Today a player couldn't make it, so instead I taught (and ran) Feng Shui to the two others. Depsite only knowing half-the rules (probably even less) and pulling together a half-assed plot, we had a load of fun.

I'll probably write it up tonight.

 

[Breakstone]

Well, I hate to do this, but here's a self bump.

No game this weekend, but I'll give ya something to read.