Storyteller01
First Post
DungeonmasterCal said:
So the Schwartz WAS with you
*heh heh heh*
What is your most memorable role playing moment?
- Thread starter Storyteller01
- Start date
So the Schwartz WAS with you
*heh heh heh*
DungeonmasterCal
First Post
Storyteller01 said:So the Schwartz WAS with you
The Schwartz will be with me--always.
Ry
Explorer
Best meeting of player characters ever: Great Big Barbarain is taking a bath at just the exact spot the Noble Knight usually waters his horse. The Knight immediately demands that the rude knave leave at once, and when the Barbarian ignores him, he steps to the side of the river and, to teach him a lesson about manners, tries to grab the Barbarian by the hair. The Barbarian pulls the Knight, armor and all, into the river, and wallops him a few times to teach him a lesson about manners. The Knight, half-drowned, finally pulls himself out of the water, gets on his horse... and tramples the Barbarian half to death, in the water. Knight then rides off - after all, he has to respond to an important summons.
Moments later, a Messenger rounds the bend, and sees the Barbarian floundering in the water. Messenger saves Barbarian, and the two dry out and immediately strike up a long friendship. The Messenger is on his way to return a letter that couldn't be sent (the original call to arms of the campaign), and invites the Barbarian to come with him.
All three players are great friends, and we all remember that meeting fondly, especially since it was the start of my biggest, and definitely best campaign.
Moments later, a Messenger rounds the bend, and sees the Barbarian floundering in the water. Messenger saves Barbarian, and the two dry out and immediately strike up a long friendship. The Messenger is on his way to return a letter that couldn't be sent (the original call to arms of the campaign), and invites the Barbarian to come with him.
All three players are great friends, and we all remember that meeting fondly, especially since it was the start of my biggest, and definitely best campaign.
Evilhalfling
Adventurer
The End of my longest running campaign, 3 years of HS, a four year break and 2 years playing again. 2nd ed. In a world with greyhawk (now core) gods
the paladin of heronius and his wizard companion are in the abyss - the Home of Kali (ie Hextors allay who provided his extra arms.)The paladin had immersed himself in a liquid in the abyss that toughend his skin and turned it an undead gray color, except of course for a single vulnerable area, in this case his face.
They manage to close up a gate that opened to their home world and they jump through a random gate before being overwhelmed by demons. They end up in an "Its a Wonderful Life World " which was overrun by demons when no-one stopped an invasion seven years earlier.
The wizard deceided that the new world was a lost cause and offered to transport them home. The paladin replied "I am needed here" and rode out of the gates of one of the last human cities, seeking the head of the Demon Lord in charge (who he had met and banished once long ago)
the last line of campaign:
"As you ride out into the sunlight to face the demon hordes, your skin changes from gray to the invulnerable copper of Heronieous' skin, and you feel his presence riding within you."
The only time I have ever had a pc become an Avatar.
the paladin of heronius and his wizard companion are in the abyss - the Home of Kali (ie Hextors allay who provided his extra arms.)The paladin had immersed himself in a liquid in the abyss that toughend his skin and turned it an undead gray color, except of course for a single vulnerable area, in this case his face.
They manage to close up a gate that opened to their home world and they jump through a random gate before being overwhelmed by demons. They end up in an "Its a Wonderful Life World " which was overrun by demons when no-one stopped an invasion seven years earlier.
The wizard deceided that the new world was a lost cause and offered to transport them home. The paladin replied "I am needed here" and rode out of the gates of one of the last human cities, seeking the head of the Demon Lord in charge (who he had met and banished once long ago)
the last line of campaign:
"As you ride out into the sunlight to face the demon hordes, your skin changes from gray to the invulnerable copper of Heronieous' skin, and you feel his presence riding within you."
The only time I have ever had a pc become an Avatar.
stuff
well.. in the last almost 25 years of playing i have lots of storys.. i think ill just shar some humorous ones that come to mind.
Typcially becuase of my experience ive always end up playing the GM/DM.
One time i was playing with two fellahs, and one got a wish. He was a little annoyed at the other guy from somethign he did earlier, so he said he wished for the other guys penis to be tiny. The other guy got very angry and said he coldnt wish for that, and i said no, he can and he did. He asked me if it hapened. I said i dont know he would have to check. With shock he tells me he looks down his pants and checks out his privates. I tell him nothing appears any different. Now, the guy who made the wish gets all irate and says, i didnt just waste a wish.. you said i could do it, and i want it to hapen. I said... it did. it just so happened tho his penis was little in the first place... i almost got beat up by the oher guy while everyone else laughed their heads off.
Another funny one is a guy who came to visit our group. He demanded he be given a magical weapon. He demanded it be very powerful. So i so.. ok fine. So i gave him a magical war axe befiting his barbarian fighter. Now at first everyone gets angry and thinks its not fair. I tell them what i say goes so deal with it. After much muttering they finally shut up. The thing i didnt tell him was it had a high ego due to its power and controled the user once invoked. When he called apon the powers of his weapon it began making him say and do things he didnt want to do. Like one time he begand flipping off a lot of cit guards and townspeople and calling them names. e was horrified and said Nooo! I drop the axe! .... No.. you cant. this weapon has taken contrl of you and wont let you drop it. At the end of the hour he got a whole city chasing him till he finall succumbs and dies at the hand of a angry mob. He learned to be content with normal weapons after that.
And another short one.. was someone who spent hours rolling up his character of a little mischievious Kender. He and his friend were placed at the begining of a module where a god appears and takes them across the sky on a flying ship. Now, this god i explain has the power to probbably smash a planet in between his fingers. He says he runs up and slaps him on the ass and yels 'TAG you it!'.. well.. needless to say.. that was the shortest game of tag he ever had, and had to reroll a new character; but it was pretty funny.
well.. in the last almost 25 years of playing i have lots of storys.. i think ill just shar some humorous ones that come to mind.
Typcially becuase of my experience ive always end up playing the GM/DM.
One time i was playing with two fellahs, and one got a wish. He was a little annoyed at the other guy from somethign he did earlier, so he said he wished for the other guys penis to be tiny. The other guy got very angry and said he coldnt wish for that, and i said no, he can and he did. He asked me if it hapened. I said i dont know he would have to check. With shock he tells me he looks down his pants and checks out his privates. I tell him nothing appears any different. Now, the guy who made the wish gets all irate and says, i didnt just waste a wish.. you said i could do it, and i want it to hapen. I said... it did. it just so happened tho his penis was little in the first place... i almost got beat up by the oher guy while everyone else laughed their heads off.
Another funny one is a guy who came to visit our group. He demanded he be given a magical weapon. He demanded it be very powerful. So i so.. ok fine. So i gave him a magical war axe befiting his barbarian fighter. Now at first everyone gets angry and thinks its not fair. I tell them what i say goes so deal with it. After much muttering they finally shut up. The thing i didnt tell him was it had a high ego due to its power and controled the user once invoked. When he called apon the powers of his weapon it began making him say and do things he didnt want to do. Like one time he begand flipping off a lot of cit guards and townspeople and calling them names. e was horrified and said Nooo! I drop the axe! .... No.. you cant. this weapon has taken contrl of you and wont let you drop it. At the end of the hour he got a whole city chasing him till he finall succumbs and dies at the hand of a angry mob. He learned to be content with normal weapons after that.
And another short one.. was someone who spent hours rolling up his character of a little mischievious Kender. He and his friend were placed at the begining of a module where a god appears and takes them across the sky on a flying ship. Now, this god i explain has the power to probbably smash a planet in between his fingers. He says he runs up and slaps him on the ass and yels 'TAG you it!'.. well.. needless to say.. that was the shortest game of tag he ever had, and had to reroll a new character; but it was pretty funny.
oh .. oh yea
ok.. now if you think those were funny.. i forgot to mention a little true life tale that im sure most of you wil get a kick out of.
MY step father was an abusive alchoholic (haha bear with me on this.. it is going somewhere). During my teenage years i built a huge module based on a Gods castle in the sky with hex paper. I got a huge board about the size of 4 foot by 4 foot and had it all taped and pinned to it. The map was huge. It had things like slaves running on wheels to power lights thoughout the place and assorted fun stuff.
Well, after my mother divorced him he went kind of crazy. He skipped paying her any alimony and whatever and paccked up everythign in the house and moved off out in the middle of nowhere where the goverment couldnt find him. The FBI came looking for him. They searched the house and found my old module map in my old closet. It was one of the few thigns left in the house, and the place was a mess with trash and broken junk on the floor. Anyways, they told my mom he was insane and dangerous. That he had this mapepd out plan of how he was going to enslave people and force them to run on wheels to power his mapped out minacal plans. They thoght my map was made by him and it was really what he was trying to build. My mom reminded silent and just nodded. she knew it was mine but just decided to be mean and not say anything. Later she told me about it and i laughed SO hard. Boy, if the FBI catchs him he has some explaining to do. =P
i thought you enthusiants would find that amusing.
remember.. dont leave them old module maps laying around.. lol.
yes. this story is absolutely true. scary?
id loved to beena fly on the wall at that goverment office.
ok.. now if you think those were funny.. i forgot to mention a little true life tale that im sure most of you wil get a kick out of.
MY step father was an abusive alchoholic (haha bear with me on this.. it is going somewhere). During my teenage years i built a huge module based on a Gods castle in the sky with hex paper. I got a huge board about the size of 4 foot by 4 foot and had it all taped and pinned to it. The map was huge. It had things like slaves running on wheels to power lights thoughout the place and assorted fun stuff.
Well, after my mother divorced him he went kind of crazy. He skipped paying her any alimony and whatever and paccked up everythign in the house and moved off out in the middle of nowhere where the goverment couldnt find him. The FBI came looking for him. They searched the house and found my old module map in my old closet. It was one of the few thigns left in the house, and the place was a mess with trash and broken junk on the floor. Anyways, they told my mom he was insane and dangerous. That he had this mapepd out plan of how he was going to enslave people and force them to run on wheels to power his mapped out minacal plans. They thoght my map was made by him and it was really what he was trying to build. My mom reminded silent and just nodded. she knew it was mine but just decided to be mean and not say anything. Later she told me about it and i laughed SO hard. Boy, if the FBI catchs him he has some explaining to do. =P
i thought you enthusiants would find that amusing.
remember.. dont leave them old module maps laying around.. lol.
yes. this story is absolutely true. scary?
id loved to beena fly on the wall at that goverment office.
Rafael Ceurdepyr
First Post
I think one of the most memorable has to be in our ongoing Leviathan campaign. It contains not one speck of combat, actually--all role playing, which to me are the most memorable times anyway.
Our party had managed to locate an artifact we'd been hired to recover--the death mask of one of the city founders, ancestor of the mighty Heinter family. We made our way back to return the artifact to our "handler" Tolver Greyjoy--"Mr. G", a man who'd started us off on our first adventure in that world (this was after probably nine months' of gaming in real time). He wasn't in his quarters. We were told that he was in an important meeting but that we should go in.
We found Mr. G in a sumptuously-appointed room along with the most important men of the city, including the Admiral of the Fleet and the son of the recently-deceased head of the Heinter family. Mr. G. was leaning on the mantle, staring into the fireplace. He looked quite somber and glanced up at us without saying a word. Also there was a man we'd done errands for who turned out to be on the side of the lizard men--and who revealed himself to be one himself. We--or rather, I--gave him the mask--we were outnumbered at that point.
They used the mask and two sorcerous rubies we'd also recovered to resurrect the head of the Heinter family. We were congratulated for being so helpful and allowed to leave.
That was bad enough. The next day, the Heinters declared martial law in the city. Will, the NPC we tended to think of as one of our party--as well as Mr. G's protege, broke the news to us that he'd just seen Mr. G's body. He'd been hanged as a traitor, and that we had to leave Krakensfort or we'd be next.
That was the end of the session and the end of "season one," as our DM (the amazingly talented Stormborn) called it. The three of us players sat for a bit and stared at each other. We couldn't believe he'd actually killed off Mr. G. Rafael's complicity in his death (handing over the mask, for one) haunted me for days.
(Sometimes I take roleplaying a bit too seriously.)
But I felt kinda like Luke in Star Wars when Obi-wan died. "NO!"
Whew.
Our party had managed to locate an artifact we'd been hired to recover--the death mask of one of the city founders, ancestor of the mighty Heinter family. We made our way back to return the artifact to our "handler" Tolver Greyjoy--"Mr. G", a man who'd started us off on our first adventure in that world (this was after probably nine months' of gaming in real time). He wasn't in his quarters. We were told that he was in an important meeting but that we should go in.
We found Mr. G in a sumptuously-appointed room along with the most important men of the city, including the Admiral of the Fleet and the son of the recently-deceased head of the Heinter family. Mr. G. was leaning on the mantle, staring into the fireplace. He looked quite somber and glanced up at us without saying a word. Also there was a man we'd done errands for who turned out to be on the side of the lizard men--and who revealed himself to be one himself. We--or rather, I--gave him the mask--we were outnumbered at that point.
They used the mask and two sorcerous rubies we'd also recovered to resurrect the head of the Heinter family. We were congratulated for being so helpful and allowed to leave.
That was bad enough. The next day, the Heinters declared martial law in the city. Will, the NPC we tended to think of as one of our party--as well as Mr. G's protege, broke the news to us that he'd just seen Mr. G's body. He'd been hanged as a traitor, and that we had to leave Krakensfort or we'd be next.
That was the end of the session and the end of "season one," as our DM (the amazingly talented Stormborn) called it. The three of us players sat for a bit and stared at each other. We couldn't believe he'd actually killed off Mr. G. Rafael's complicity in his death (handing over the mask, for one) haunted me for days.
(Sometimes I take roleplaying a bit too seriously.)
But I felt kinda like Luke in Star Wars when Obi-wan died. "NO!"
Whew.
drascade
First Post
Most memorable moment i have ever had gaming just happened not a month ago. We were playing throught the Forgotten Man module from Dungeon with a some changes made by me (DM). One of the characters was a CN scout who pretty much did whatever he wanted. Very impulsive. Well they find the Deck of Many Things. He draws Balance. Now what is the opposite alignment of CN? I ruled he could pick LG, CG, LE, or CE. So he went CG.
Now a little backstory, his father was a tiefling blackguard. The blackguard had convinced this character's mother that he was her love who had went off to fight evil. This character hated his father, one of his goals was to kill his father.
Well long story short, the Forgotten Man turns out to be his father. The tiefling blackguard is redeemed by his son. The look on this player's face when the blackguard tells him he is his father. This is the only time i have ever completely suprised this player. This is why I play D&D
Now a little backstory, his father was a tiefling blackguard. The blackguard had convinced this character's mother that he was her love who had went off to fight evil. This character hated his father, one of his goals was to kill his father.
Well long story short, the Forgotten Man turns out to be his father. The tiefling blackguard is redeemed by his son. The look on this player's face when the blackguard tells him he is his father. This is the only time i have ever completely suprised this player. This is why I play D&D
howandwhy99
Adventurer
One Year Ago
Hefting the dead hag’s bloodied axe and feeling the weight of it in his hand, Calrom thought, “this should come in useful”.
As much progress as the team had made in the last few hours, he was actually very frustrated. Always trying to bring his bow to bear around sharp corners and backing off from advancing foes was wearing him thin. It may be his weapon of choice, but his bow wasn’t really doing him any favors lately. After being Orc-rushed so many times, the blood dripping axe might be better after all.
Drip Drip Drip. Yep, still dripping; I wonder why that is, anyways?
Darian and Alya were watching him closely while talking quietly in a corner. Calrom stared back. “Yeah, that right. I plan on using this little holiest of the holies”.
The rest of the group was moving now about six rings deeper into the core.
“Baneheart”, Calrom thought, “banes have no hearts.”
Sully was demonstrating his new ability to ‘door’ people from one space to another. Rather weird really, but damn if the little guy wasn’t useful. Unfortunately, Calrom got to ride down, if you can call being hauled underarm by a dire bat and some celestial bird-like creature riding.
It irritated him to no end when they did that. Why did the two elves feel so compelled to shapeshift every five seconds? How do they expect him to tell them apart from potential foes?
Maybe he’d shoot one in battle next time on ‘accident’. That would be funny. Well, okay maybe not funny. But who do they think they are swinging him over a mile deep pit that holds all the evils of the world, while the others simply –pop- down? At least Marcus of Tyr had to undergo the same injustice.
He liked Marcus, but often times he didn’t exactly seem all there. Sure, he was valiant and all that, but charging into battle on a tightrope across a cavern ravine? Nope, Marcus was not his kind of hero; certainly no Kelerescent.
Damn, Damn! He didn’t know if he could ever forgive himself for that one. But how did he know that giving into the has-been elf’s wishes would lead to Kelerescent’s death? It all seems so unwarranted now; Alya no longer being an elf and the Sword of Lies almost in their grasp.
Or the Sword of Truth. Or whatever name the hell-cursed thing had now.
Sully was speaking up ahead. Apparently, the door to the sword had already been opened. “…one hundred twenty feet below, in the Baneheart, through the East door…” Sully was reciting what the accursed armor of Tiran Invir had told them above. With the rest of the group hanging back on the curved balcony and bridge of the Baneheart, Calrom and Fiddle advanced into the room.
Well, actually, first Fiddle spied into the room and seeing a large metal statue like the spiky one above decided to toss his glowing coin at it. The room was unnaturally lit just like the Baneheart. Fiddle’s coin cracked against metal and fell five feet from the statue. THEN Calrom advanced into the room a few feet, tugging Fiddle alongside.
The room was shaped like a two pronged fork with both of the far passages leading away to the East. The metal statue stood guard in the center.
Both tiptoed forward and Fiddle moved closer to retrieve his coin. His hand out, grasping but a few inches away from the coin, Fiddle froze in place. The statue SCREEACHED as it changed into a defensive poster.
No one moved for a few seconds. Then slowly, very carefully, Fiddle reached down and grabbed his coin. He pocketed it and moved back near Calrom.
The metal statue remained motionless; it’s posture on the hair’s breadth of charging forward.
“Left or right?” whispered Fiddle.
Hmm… “Let’s go right”, replied Calrom.
“Why right?”
“I don’t know, because it’s closer to us and farther from the statue?”
Traveling a few feet into the right passageway they could see a door on the right-hand side in the familiar style of the banedoors. Odd shields hung along the walls. Calrom’s superior vision allowed him to see a little farther. The end of the passage opened into a room.
They waved the rest of the team forward. Still the statue remained motionless.
The group of six spread out down the hallway and started inspecting. Darian, Marcus and Arendel moved to the front of the party leading most of them into the room a little ways ahead. It was small with one door to the left. Seeing a mural along the back wall of the room they crossed check it out. Sully and Alya hung back in the hallway near the first door trying to listen for noise. Calrom listened at the door in the room.
“The artwork in this place has been awful”, he thought. “Did no one know how to paint thirteen hundred years ago?” Still, he probably should have looked closer at the dragon ceiling fresco yesterday. All those metallic dragons cavorting in such a nicely drawn sky, it was obviously a warning. “It would at least have saved me from having to change my clothes after that incident”.
Calrom heard quiet footsteps from the other side of the door. He tried the handle: locked.
"CALROM, COME HERE!" Fiddle shouted from somewhere far down the hall
Calrom knocked on the door. It was obvious to him now that the halfling was also on the other side. "NO, YOU COME HERE..." he yelled.
Suddenly the door near Alya and Sully opened. Two bestial humanoids strolled out. The gnome and kobold immediately started casting, but were quickly razor-cut into their vitals by a black-skinned she-devil –popping- into existence between them. Sully still managed to get a spell off electrifying the air as sparks lit up the small area. Calrom couldn’t quite see, but learned later that Alya went down right away in a bloody mess.
Arendel began humming to himself as a cloud of smoke formed above his head spilling across the ceiling of the room and into the hallway. More lightening flashed as strokes shot from the cloud into the woman. Darian drew his crossbow and fired at one of the large, muscular creatures, while Marcus charged the other with his axe in hand.
Calrom hefted the blood dripping axe from the dead hag, “Well, now or never”. He charged at the nearest beast-human. As he drew near he noticed it had a head like a wolf or a jackal. Swinging the battleaxe high over his own head he attacked with all his might… and hit it squarely in the chest. Calrom smiled. But the skin of the beast showed no sign of damage at all.
Calrom saw red. Anger swelled within him and he howled in frustration. Flinging the useless axe to the ground he coiled his legs and leapt at the wolf creature. The growl in his throat died before it could escape. He missed badly.
Marcus swung his own axe also missing. Lightening from Arendel’s cloud crackled again to highlight the point. Without warning a glint of silver flew over Calrom’s shoulder and tore into the creature’s flesh spoiling a newly made wound. “Darian’s crossbow!” he thought.
The four-horned devil-woman fled the hallway out towards the Baneheart. One of her hirelings ran over to pick the sword she had flung, while the other attempted to block the advancing party. Calrom got a good look at the sword: ornate, but vilely carved it was made of metal black as pitch.
The other ran to the door of the Baneheart for all it was worth. The Sword of Lies was still in its paws.
Marcus ran ahead to strike at the creature while it still stood in the doorway. He must not have been thinking to clearly as his axe still had no effect. Darian ran to keep up passing under the false danger of the metal statue. Calrom was running past him when Darian shoved the silver bolted crossbow in his hands. Tapping Marcus on the shoulder to see past, “Dodge right!” Calrom fired a shot straight into the chest of the creature. Another foul wound blossomed.
Sully yelled out the name of the sword again and the wolf beast threw it as far from himself as possible… straight into the Baneheart pit!
Thinking quickly the gnome snapped his fingers, and the sword floated downward gently.
Over Calrom and Marcus’s heads a large hawk flew out the door... “Maybe I should shoot him now?” thought Calrom. …and plucked the Sword of Lies out of the air before anything else could reach it. “Or maybe not”
Darian, Arendel, and Calrom made short work of the last werewolf. Its body fell into the depths of the pit. Arendel still in dire hawk form sped after it. The lady demon-drow was nowhere to be seen.
Later Calrom would learn that she was one of the Vladaam’s. Apparently, Fiddle got a pretty good look at her between dodging lightening sparks. For now, Calrom simply slumped to the ground breathing heavily. This was beginning to be all too much for him. Hiding trips were supposed to be easy. This… this was not easy.
--> http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=22106
(for the rest of the story)
Hefting the dead hag’s bloodied axe and feeling the weight of it in his hand, Calrom thought, “this should come in useful”.
As much progress as the team had made in the last few hours, he was actually very frustrated. Always trying to bring his bow to bear around sharp corners and backing off from advancing foes was wearing him thin. It may be his weapon of choice, but his bow wasn’t really doing him any favors lately. After being Orc-rushed so many times, the blood dripping axe might be better after all.
Drip Drip Drip. Yep, still dripping; I wonder why that is, anyways?
Darian and Alya were watching him closely while talking quietly in a corner. Calrom stared back. “Yeah, that right. I plan on using this little holiest of the holies”.
The rest of the group was moving now about six rings deeper into the core.
“Baneheart”, Calrom thought, “banes have no hearts.”
Sully was demonstrating his new ability to ‘door’ people from one space to another. Rather weird really, but damn if the little guy wasn’t useful. Unfortunately, Calrom got to ride down, if you can call being hauled underarm by a dire bat and some celestial bird-like creature riding.
It irritated him to no end when they did that. Why did the two elves feel so compelled to shapeshift every five seconds? How do they expect him to tell them apart from potential foes?
Maybe he’d shoot one in battle next time on ‘accident’. That would be funny. Well, okay maybe not funny. But who do they think they are swinging him over a mile deep pit that holds all the evils of the world, while the others simply –pop- down? At least Marcus of Tyr had to undergo the same injustice.
He liked Marcus, but often times he didn’t exactly seem all there. Sure, he was valiant and all that, but charging into battle on a tightrope across a cavern ravine? Nope, Marcus was not his kind of hero; certainly no Kelerescent.
Damn, Damn! He didn’t know if he could ever forgive himself for that one. But how did he know that giving into the has-been elf’s wishes would lead to Kelerescent’s death? It all seems so unwarranted now; Alya no longer being an elf and the Sword of Lies almost in their grasp.
Or the Sword of Truth. Or whatever name the hell-cursed thing had now.
Sully was speaking up ahead. Apparently, the door to the sword had already been opened. “…one hundred twenty feet below, in the Baneheart, through the East door…” Sully was reciting what the accursed armor of Tiran Invir had told them above. With the rest of the group hanging back on the curved balcony and bridge of the Baneheart, Calrom and Fiddle advanced into the room.
Well, actually, first Fiddle spied into the room and seeing a large metal statue like the spiky one above decided to toss his glowing coin at it. The room was unnaturally lit just like the Baneheart. Fiddle’s coin cracked against metal and fell five feet from the statue. THEN Calrom advanced into the room a few feet, tugging Fiddle alongside.
The room was shaped like a two pronged fork with both of the far passages leading away to the East. The metal statue stood guard in the center.
Both tiptoed forward and Fiddle moved closer to retrieve his coin. His hand out, grasping but a few inches away from the coin, Fiddle froze in place. The statue SCREEACHED as it changed into a defensive poster.
No one moved for a few seconds. Then slowly, very carefully, Fiddle reached down and grabbed his coin. He pocketed it and moved back near Calrom.
The metal statue remained motionless; it’s posture on the hair’s breadth of charging forward.
“Left or right?” whispered Fiddle.
Hmm… “Let’s go right”, replied Calrom.
“Why right?”
“I don’t know, because it’s closer to us and farther from the statue?”
Traveling a few feet into the right passageway they could see a door on the right-hand side in the familiar style of the banedoors. Odd shields hung along the walls. Calrom’s superior vision allowed him to see a little farther. The end of the passage opened into a room.
They waved the rest of the team forward. Still the statue remained motionless.
The group of six spread out down the hallway and started inspecting. Darian, Marcus and Arendel moved to the front of the party leading most of them into the room a little ways ahead. It was small with one door to the left. Seeing a mural along the back wall of the room they crossed check it out. Sully and Alya hung back in the hallway near the first door trying to listen for noise. Calrom listened at the door in the room.
“The artwork in this place has been awful”, he thought. “Did no one know how to paint thirteen hundred years ago?” Still, he probably should have looked closer at the dragon ceiling fresco yesterday. All those metallic dragons cavorting in such a nicely drawn sky, it was obviously a warning. “It would at least have saved me from having to change my clothes after that incident”.
Calrom heard quiet footsteps from the other side of the door. He tried the handle: locked.
"CALROM, COME HERE!" Fiddle shouted from somewhere far down the hall
Calrom knocked on the door. It was obvious to him now that the halfling was also on the other side. "NO, YOU COME HERE..." he yelled.
Suddenly the door near Alya and Sully opened. Two bestial humanoids strolled out. The gnome and kobold immediately started casting, but were quickly razor-cut into their vitals by a black-skinned she-devil –popping- into existence between them. Sully still managed to get a spell off electrifying the air as sparks lit up the small area. Calrom couldn’t quite see, but learned later that Alya went down right away in a bloody mess.
Arendel began humming to himself as a cloud of smoke formed above his head spilling across the ceiling of the room and into the hallway. More lightening flashed as strokes shot from the cloud into the woman. Darian drew his crossbow and fired at one of the large, muscular creatures, while Marcus charged the other with his axe in hand.
Calrom hefted the blood dripping axe from the dead hag, “Well, now or never”. He charged at the nearest beast-human. As he drew near he noticed it had a head like a wolf or a jackal. Swinging the battleaxe high over his own head he attacked with all his might… and hit it squarely in the chest. Calrom smiled. But the skin of the beast showed no sign of damage at all.
diaglo said:
Calrom saw red. Anger swelled within him and he howled in frustration. Flinging the useless axe to the ground he coiled his legs and leapt at the wolf creature. The growl in his throat died before it could escape. He missed badly.
Marcus swung his own axe also missing. Lightening from Arendel’s cloud crackled again to highlight the point. Without warning a glint of silver flew over Calrom’s shoulder and tore into the creature’s flesh spoiling a newly made wound. “Darian’s crossbow!” he thought.
The four-horned devil-woman fled the hallway out towards the Baneheart. One of her hirelings ran over to pick the sword she had flung, while the other attempted to block the advancing party. Calrom got a good look at the sword: ornate, but vilely carved it was made of metal black as pitch.
Sully the Gnome, ever backing away now from the battle because of his grievous wounds, let loose with another electrical blast. A sphere of blue-black lightening opened up in the far room as all the color in Calrom’s sight went negative. Fiddle twisted away from the effect, but the two wolf-beasts weren’t so lucky. One fell smoking to the ground.
The other ran to the door of the Baneheart for all it was worth. The Sword of Lies was still in its paws.
Marcus ran ahead to strike at the creature while it still stood in the doorway. He must not have been thinking to clearly as his axe still had no effect. Darian ran to keep up passing under the false danger of the metal statue. Calrom was running past him when Darian shoved the silver bolted crossbow in his hands. Tapping Marcus on the shoulder to see past, “Dodge right!” Calrom fired a shot straight into the chest of the creature. Another foul wound blossomed.
Sully yelled out the name of the sword again and the wolf beast threw it as far from himself as possible… straight into the Baneheart pit!
Thinking quickly the gnome snapped his fingers, and the sword floated downward gently.
Over Calrom and Marcus’s heads a large hawk flew out the door... “Maybe I should shoot him now?” thought Calrom. …and plucked the Sword of Lies out of the air before anything else could reach it. “Or maybe not”
Darian, Arendel, and Calrom made short work of the last werewolf. Its body fell into the depths of the pit. Arendel still in dire hawk form sped after it. The lady demon-drow was nowhere to be seen.
Later Calrom would learn that she was one of the Vladaam’s. Apparently, Fiddle got a pretty good look at her between dodging lightening sparks. For now, Calrom simply slumped to the ground breathing heavily. This was beginning to be all too much for him. Hiding trips were supposed to be easy. This… this was not easy.
--> http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=22106
(for the rest of the story)
Last edited:
fredramsey
First Post
Party is trying to figure out a way to get the cell keys from a (literal) dungeon guard.
The usually quiet dwarf in the back says, "Why don't we just toss in a fireball and wait for the keys to cool?"
Ah, out of the mouths of dwarves...
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The usually quiet dwarf in the back says, "Why don't we just toss in a fireball and wait for the keys to cool?"
Ah, out of the mouths of dwarves...
=
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