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Wulf's Collected Story Hour -- FINAL UPDATE 12/25
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<blockquote data-quote="Wulf Ratbane" data-source="post: 711" data-attributes="member: 94"><p><strong>FORGE OF FURY (Part V)</strong></p><p></p><p>Wulf took the axe and hacked the heads off the half-ogre and the witch, then tucked the bloody souvenirs into his belt. Keldas and the halfling were going over the rest of the haul-- a few sacks of coins, some gems, a spare weapon or two. Halma was already pacing the floor, ready to head out and continue his crusade.</p><p></p><p>Wulf moved up to the passage to the north, still wary, but a little unsettled by the lack of orc activity. This last fight was nothing compared to the first massive battle, and the lair was mostly empty. Surely, there had to be more orcs-- and a tougher leader-- somewhere. Big Ulfe and this band of riff-raff couldn't possibly account for all the trouble the town was having.</p><p></p><p>The northern caves were mostly raw, unworked stone, but they eventually wound around to a large dwarven hall. A huge staircase in the center of the floor descended into the darkness, and two huge metal doors stood ominously at the far end. </p><p></p><p>The party made a wide berth around the staircase and moved up to check out the doors. The carvings on the doors attested to their dwarven craftsmanship. Wulf knelt down and pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. His eyes scanned the surface while his thick fingers sought out any hidden catches. Nothing. The dwarf was stumped.</p><p></p><p>"Safe? Open door now?" For Halma, every door was like a little birthday present he couldn't wait to open. There was always something interesting inside.</p><p></p><p>"Errrr... Aye. Safe enough." Wulf usually crouched behind Halma and waited to throw in his support, but something about this one told him to back away. ("Better yer than me...")</p><p></p><p>Wulf heard the inevitable <em>click</em> as Halma opened the door, and a fountain of alchemist's fire suddenly poured out onto Halma's head and shoulders. This was much worse than anything the halfling had ever done-- this time Halma was at ground zero. He dropped and rolled, and Wulf jumped to help douse the flames, but there wasn't much they could do. Halma howled and sizzled until the alchemist's fire had burned itself out. Kellick moved quickly to cast some healing magic over the young barbarian. He was young and strong. He'd survive.</p><p></p><p>"Good dwarven trap, that. Not surprised I missed it-- sorry." Wulf caught the doors as they were closing so he could get a better look inside before the trap reset itself. There was a small opening behind the doors-- just a closet, really. Inside were two tanks of liquid, with two tubes that ran up to the top of the door frame. It looked like the two chemicals mixed as they sprayed onto the victim, combining in mid-air to form the volatile alchemist's fire. Wulf didn't know anything about alchemy, but he knew a good trap when he saw one. And he could certainly think of a few good uses for two big vats of flammable chemicals. He just needed a little more careful study before he was willing to risk moving either of those vats. </p><p></p><p>Wulf cut a small length of rope off his roll and dipped it into the first chemical. Smelled a little funny, but he couldn't quite place the smell. Keldas came up behind him to lend his expertise. "Halma's going to be fine, I think. Kellick has him pretty well patched up. What are you doing with that rope?"</p><p></p><p>"Just a little test." Wulf was backing away from the door and eyeing the distance to the second vat. Toss a little piece of rope into the other vat, see what happens. Seemed to Wulf, there would have to be a limit to the reaction-- mix just a little bit of one chemical with the other, get just a little bit of fire.</p><p></p><p>"Wait a minute... No..." Keldas started backing away. Halma looked up in time to see Wulf readying his pitching arm. He turned on wobbly legs and started running as fast as he could. Wulf was only faintly aware of the chorus of screams behind him. (NO! NO NO NO NO!) He tossed the "fuse."</p><p></p><p>Sure, Wulf expected a little bit of an explosion, but he certainly wasn't expecting the tiny explosion from the rope to shatter both vats, causing a chain reaction as their contents spilled onto each other, mixed, and sent a huge fireball roaring up the hallway. Wulf's catlike reflexes saved him, and he tumbled out of the way just in time to watch Keldas take the full brunt of the expanding fireball right in the face. He was flung back like a ragdoll and didn't move. He just sort of sat there smoldering, defiantly hovering on death's door as if to say to Wulf, "I told you NOT to do that."</p><p></p><p>"Ach, for the love of..." Wulf stomped over and fished a healing draught out of his pack. "Drink this, ya big blubberin' girl."</p><p></p><p>Kellick scowled at Wulf. "I'm out of healing. You'll have to carry him back to town."</p><p></p><p>Halma was defiant. "No more doors! Fire BAD!"</p><p></p><p>The halfling raised an eyebrow. "That was COOL."</p><p></p><p>Wulf felt that Fate had once again dealt him an opportunity. He was, for the moment at least, the only voice of reason in the group. And he couldn't help but notice they were all looking at him, as if to say, </p><p></p><p><strong>Please. Lead us.</strong></p><p></p><p>They'd been over every inch of the upper level, and hadn't found any more orcs. The orc menace couldn't possibly be over, but Wulf was in no hurry. They'd just have to head down onto the lower levels to find the rest of the orcs and their leader. Then they could get paid. If there was anything in life sweeter than the righteous butchery of evildoers, it was <em>getting paid</em> for the righteous butchery of evildoers.</p><p></p><p>"Aye, then. We head back to town. Resupply, get some more healin' potions, come back an' find the leader. Let's go."</p><p></p><p>--------------</p><p></p><p>Their first stop back in town was with the baron. Wulf had confidently shouldered the burden of leadership, so he decided to head the delegation. He wasn't much on diplomacy, but he felt assured that his usual blunt approach would do just fine. After all, everybody respected honesty.</p><p></p><p>"Here, we brought yer some heads, " Wulf said, pulling the grim souvenirs from under his belt, "but there's probly more left, so we'll be going back-- just as soon as yer pay us." The dwarf stood with his new axe in one hand and his other hand knotted into a bloody fist in the orcs' topknots. He tossed the heads towards the baron so he could get a better look.</p><p></p><p>"Now... That big bastard there, gotta admit, not sure he's the leader, so don't feel like yer have to pay us the whole bounty right now. But..." He held up his axe. "I figure yer got some kind of perfumed fop around here what can tell me a little about this axe. I hate to disturb yer lordship's bard from an entire afternoon of the usual buggery, but I figure it's a fair trade. Fair is fair, right." Wulf bowed low, to emphasize his sincerity. This diplomacy business was a snap. ("Easy as goblin pie.")</p><p></p><p>Frankly, the baron seemed eager to help out. The audience was over almost as soon as it started-- to the party's satisfaction. They had a few more coins in their pockets, and Wulf's axe was being studied by the finest minds that perfumed foppery had to offer.</p><p></p><p>They stopped off at the inn to divide up the workload. Kellick was going to rest with Keldas, perhaps scribe a scroll or two while Keldas studied a few of the magic items they'd found; Halma was off to the countryside to chase livestock; the halfling was gone, nobody cared where; and Wulf went to visit the local priest to buy some more healing potions. He was well pleased to find an old dwarf in charge.</p><p></p><p>"Well met, Old Man! Praise Moradin," Wulf held his hand high in the sign of the hammer, "...an' long live the dwarves! Ahh.. Right, well, as yer probly know, we're the heroes the baron hired to rout the orcs out of the mountain up there. So seein' as how we're the hammers of righteousness and the anvils of goodness, or summat like that, yer ought to get handy with the healin' and the cut-rate prices. An' I don't think I even need to mention how pleased the Father would be if yer could help, in yer own feeble, aged, an' peaceful way, to speed up the cleansin' of His people's mountain. Yer gotta do what yer can, right? Ahh... Praise Moradin!" Wulf made the hammer sign again.</p><p></p><p>The old dwarf stared back at Wulf in that creepy, all-seeing, all-knowing way that only shriveled old priests can manage. He seemed to be weighing the very measure of Wulf's soul, who sat desperately trying to assume the proper look of piety, righteousness, and heroism. </p><p></p><p>"Regular prices, see the acolyte on the way out." (Blood and bones! Damn priests!)</p><p></p><p>The party spent a few more days in preparation, feeling completely at their leisure to return to the mountain on their own time. Wulf purchased a fine pair of mules-- ostensibly to haul out all the treasure they were hoping to recover, but more specifically to haul <em>in</em> several flasks of alchemist's fire and lamp oil. Keldas and Halma gave the mules a wide berth, but Wulf had no problem walking right next to them. He was fond of them, but didn't bother naming them, referring to them only as <em>the mules--</em> a kind of emotional insurance against their inevitable demise. He looked over at <em>the halfling</em> as he pondered this.</p><p></p><p>But by far his thoughts were preoccupied with the axe he'd recovered from the baron's loremasters. The maker's mark was indeed Durgeddin, and the axe's name was <em>Taranak.</em> They'd told him the axe would burst into flame if it struck just so; and that in fact, the wielder could cause it to flame up on command-- if he only knew the command word. Naturally, they hadn't been able to discover the command word, so the short trip to the mountain was made longer by Wulf's incessant tinkering with command words.</p><p></p><p>"Inferno!"</p><p></p><p>"Flame on!"</p><p></p><p>"Conflagration!"</p><p></p><p>Wulf looked around to make sure his companions weren't listening.</p><p></p><p>"Flambé!"</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Wulf Ratbane, post: 711, member: 94"] [b]FORGE OF FURY (Part V)[/b] Wulf took the axe and hacked the heads off the half-ogre and the witch, then tucked the bloody souvenirs into his belt. Keldas and the halfling were going over the rest of the haul-- a few sacks of coins, some gems, a spare weapon or two. Halma was already pacing the floor, ready to head out and continue his crusade. Wulf moved up to the passage to the north, still wary, but a little unsettled by the lack of orc activity. This last fight was nothing compared to the first massive battle, and the lair was mostly empty. Surely, there had to be more orcs-- and a tougher leader-- somewhere. Big Ulfe and this band of riff-raff couldn't possibly account for all the trouble the town was having. The northern caves were mostly raw, unworked stone, but they eventually wound around to a large dwarven hall. A huge staircase in the center of the floor descended into the darkness, and two huge metal doors stood ominously at the far end. The party made a wide berth around the staircase and moved up to check out the doors. The carvings on the doors attested to their dwarven craftsmanship. Wulf knelt down and pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. His eyes scanned the surface while his thick fingers sought out any hidden catches. Nothing. The dwarf was stumped. "Safe? Open door now?" For Halma, every door was like a little birthday present he couldn't wait to open. There was always something interesting inside. "Errrr... Aye. Safe enough." Wulf usually crouched behind Halma and waited to throw in his support, but something about this one told him to back away. ("Better yer than me...") Wulf heard the inevitable [i]click[/i] as Halma opened the door, and a fountain of alchemist's fire suddenly poured out onto Halma's head and shoulders. This was much worse than anything the halfling had ever done-- this time Halma was at ground zero. He dropped and rolled, and Wulf jumped to help douse the flames, but there wasn't much they could do. Halma howled and sizzled until the alchemist's fire had burned itself out. Kellick moved quickly to cast some healing magic over the young barbarian. He was young and strong. He'd survive. "Good dwarven trap, that. Not surprised I missed it-- sorry." Wulf caught the doors as they were closing so he could get a better look inside before the trap reset itself. There was a small opening behind the doors-- just a closet, really. Inside were two tanks of liquid, with two tubes that ran up to the top of the door frame. It looked like the two chemicals mixed as they sprayed onto the victim, combining in mid-air to form the volatile alchemist's fire. Wulf didn't know anything about alchemy, but he knew a good trap when he saw one. And he could certainly think of a few good uses for two big vats of flammable chemicals. He just needed a little more careful study before he was willing to risk moving either of those vats. Wulf cut a small length of rope off his roll and dipped it into the first chemical. Smelled a little funny, but he couldn't quite place the smell. Keldas came up behind him to lend his expertise. "Halma's going to be fine, I think. Kellick has him pretty well patched up. What are you doing with that rope?" "Just a little test." Wulf was backing away from the door and eyeing the distance to the second vat. Toss a little piece of rope into the other vat, see what happens. Seemed to Wulf, there would have to be a limit to the reaction-- mix just a little bit of one chemical with the other, get just a little bit of fire. "Wait a minute... No..." Keldas started backing away. Halma looked up in time to see Wulf readying his pitching arm. He turned on wobbly legs and started running as fast as he could. Wulf was only faintly aware of the chorus of screams behind him. (NO! NO NO NO NO!) He tossed the "fuse." Sure, Wulf expected a little bit of an explosion, but he certainly wasn't expecting the tiny explosion from the rope to shatter both vats, causing a chain reaction as their contents spilled onto each other, mixed, and sent a huge fireball roaring up the hallway. Wulf's catlike reflexes saved him, and he tumbled out of the way just in time to watch Keldas take the full brunt of the expanding fireball right in the face. He was flung back like a ragdoll and didn't move. He just sort of sat there smoldering, defiantly hovering on death's door as if to say to Wulf, "I told you NOT to do that." "Ach, for the love of..." Wulf stomped over and fished a healing draught out of his pack. "Drink this, ya big blubberin' girl." Kellick scowled at Wulf. "I'm out of healing. You'll have to carry him back to town." Halma was defiant. "No more doors! Fire BAD!" The halfling raised an eyebrow. "That was COOL." Wulf felt that Fate had once again dealt him an opportunity. He was, for the moment at least, the only voice of reason in the group. And he couldn't help but notice they were all looking at him, as if to say, [b]Please. Lead us.[/b] They'd been over every inch of the upper level, and hadn't found any more orcs. The orc menace couldn't possibly be over, but Wulf was in no hurry. They'd just have to head down onto the lower levels to find the rest of the orcs and their leader. Then they could get paid. If there was anything in life sweeter than the righteous butchery of evildoers, it was [i]getting paid[/i] for the righteous butchery of evildoers. "Aye, then. We head back to town. Resupply, get some more healin' potions, come back an' find the leader. Let's go." -------------- Their first stop back in town was with the baron. Wulf had confidently shouldered the burden of leadership, so he decided to head the delegation. He wasn't much on diplomacy, but he felt assured that his usual blunt approach would do just fine. After all, everybody respected honesty. "Here, we brought yer some heads, " Wulf said, pulling the grim souvenirs from under his belt, "but there's probly more left, so we'll be going back-- just as soon as yer pay us." The dwarf stood with his new axe in one hand and his other hand knotted into a bloody fist in the orcs' topknots. He tossed the heads towards the baron so he could get a better look. "Now... That big bastard there, gotta admit, not sure he's the leader, so don't feel like yer have to pay us the whole bounty right now. But..." He held up his axe. "I figure yer got some kind of perfumed fop around here what can tell me a little about this axe. I hate to disturb yer lordship's bard from an entire afternoon of the usual buggery, but I figure it's a fair trade. Fair is fair, right." Wulf bowed low, to emphasize his sincerity. This diplomacy business was a snap. ("Easy as goblin pie.") Frankly, the baron seemed eager to help out. The audience was over almost as soon as it started-- to the party's satisfaction. They had a few more coins in their pockets, and Wulf's axe was being studied by the finest minds that perfumed foppery had to offer. They stopped off at the inn to divide up the workload. Kellick was going to rest with Keldas, perhaps scribe a scroll or two while Keldas studied a few of the magic items they'd found; Halma was off to the countryside to chase livestock; the halfling was gone, nobody cared where; and Wulf went to visit the local priest to buy some more healing potions. He was well pleased to find an old dwarf in charge. "Well met, Old Man! Praise Moradin," Wulf held his hand high in the sign of the hammer, "...an' long live the dwarves! Ahh.. Right, well, as yer probly know, we're the heroes the baron hired to rout the orcs out of the mountain up there. So seein' as how we're the hammers of righteousness and the anvils of goodness, or summat like that, yer ought to get handy with the healin' and the cut-rate prices. An' I don't think I even need to mention how pleased the Father would be if yer could help, in yer own feeble, aged, an' peaceful way, to speed up the cleansin' of His people's mountain. Yer gotta do what yer can, right? Ahh... Praise Moradin!" Wulf made the hammer sign again. The old dwarf stared back at Wulf in that creepy, all-seeing, all-knowing way that only shriveled old priests can manage. He seemed to be weighing the very measure of Wulf's soul, who sat desperately trying to assume the proper look of piety, righteousness, and heroism. "Regular prices, see the acolyte on the way out." (Blood and bones! Damn priests!) The party spent a few more days in preparation, feeling completely at their leisure to return to the mountain on their own time. Wulf purchased a fine pair of mules-- ostensibly to haul out all the treasure they were hoping to recover, but more specifically to haul [i]in[/i] several flasks of alchemist's fire and lamp oil. Keldas and Halma gave the mules a wide berth, but Wulf had no problem walking right next to them. He was fond of them, but didn't bother naming them, referring to them only as [i]the mules--[/i] a kind of emotional insurance against their inevitable demise. He looked over at [i]the halfling[/i] as he pondered this. But by far his thoughts were preoccupied with the axe he'd recovered from the baron's loremasters. The maker's mark was indeed Durgeddin, and the axe's name was [i]Taranak.[/i] They'd told him the axe would burst into flame if it struck just so; and that in fact, the wielder could cause it to flame up on command-- if he only knew the command word. Naturally, they hadn't been able to discover the command word, so the short trip to the mountain was made longer by Wulf's incessant tinkering with command words. "Inferno!" "Flame on!" "Conflagration!" Wulf looked around to make sure his companions weren't listening. "Flambé!" [/QUOTE]
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