Summary:
The party moved deep into the chamber, discovering a side door and a passageway splitting left and right. Orchid checked the side door, hearing nothing and discerning no traps. Gareth burst into a rectangle shaped bathroom. A statue against the far wall depicted a half woman and serpent monster, centered in the middle of a spa. The murky water looked neither warm nor inviting. A partitioned wall in the center of the room obscured line of sight. Otherwise, the room was empty.
The adventurers backtracked and turned right. Orchid leaned against the door at the end of the hallway, but heard and discovered nothing. Gareth against shouldered his weight against the door. The door flew open, revealing a pack of hobgoblins and humans in the midst of a poker game. A gleaming scimitar and stacks of gems and gold piled high on their gaming table. Three goblin archers could be seen in a back chamber. Upon the party entering, they slid out of view.
The hobgoblins and humans roared at the party, rising from the table and reaching for swords and weapons. They soon surrounded Gareth. Gareth took a commanding stance and rained cold steel at all who came at him. Gilic rushed to Gareth side, providing flanking assistance. Shava eased into the fray, calling forth a holy glow that damaged foes and invigorated friends. Cedric let forth a scorching blast that burned multiple enemies. Taegahn took aim, mostly missing. A stray arrow that did find a target tore into a hobgoblin with devastating effect. Orchid pursued the pack of archer goblins hidden in the back of the room, spraying them with a cloud of gleaming shirkens.
Too soon, the last humanoid fell. The party searched the room and gathered the loot. They discussed who should get the sword, but put that decision off for later.
The barracks proved a dead end, so the party tracked back the hallway and approached another closed door. Gareth again broke into the door. Two duergar shouted something in their language clearly met as a warning and Orchid could hear the sound of opening doors and retreating feet down a side hallway. Everyone closed with the duergar, but the fight was quick with the numbers so against the evil dwarves. When the last fell, Queequeg searched their bodies, but found only the chain armor they wore and the warhammers they wielded.
The adventurers turned their attention to the hallway from which they earlier had heard retreating footsteps. The passageway was disconcertingly quiet. The party approached a locked door that Orchid searched thoroughly. When she couldn't pick the door open, Gareth hefted his mighty axe and bit into the solid wood. A jolt of electricity coursed through his axe and up through his body when the weapon met the door. The party backed away carefully and instead turned their attention to a door further down the hallway.
The party stepped through that door and into a room covered with carvings and glyphs of eyes. The Chamber of Eyes.
TO BE CONTINUED
Phat Lewtz:
+1 life drinking scimitar
Lines(s) of the Night:
"Taegahn attacks!" - Sean playing Blakes' character. Sean proceeded to roll a 1 and 2, missing his intended target and the broad side of the dungeon wall.
"Taegahn attacks!" - Sean playing Blakes' character. In a separate encounter, Sean proceeded to roll two 1s, missing the entire universe.
"I like how your staff is bent." - James, referring to Sean's miniature. Craig giggled and took another interpretation.
Baked Good(s) of the Night:
None. /hunger /sob /bawl
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Saturday, October 11, 2008
The Seven Pillar Hall
Summary:
Gilic barged into the chamber, holding out a money purse and bellowing, "Aye, I've got 20 gold for your wee slave there. I've need of a good porter and that one will serve nicely." The hobgoblin slavers glanced at each other and then at their two leaders towards the back of the room.
The two robed leaders paused for just a moment before sneering at Gilic. "Who said anything about a slave? You've got the wrong room dwarf. Best take yourself and that mop you call a beard right back out the door you came from before someone gets hurt."
Gilic didn't seem to register either the threat or the insult. "You can't fool me, laddy. I overheard you deciding the fate of this hear slave as my friends and I passed by. You suspect to get 10 gold for the whelp. I offer 20." He held the coin purse higher and shook it back and forth, producing a heavy jingling sound.
The leaders gave each other a knowing look and then murmured low, "20 gold. And a 5 gold processing fee."
"Done." Gilic reached into the purse, deftly withdrew a handful of coins and threw the rest at the nearest hobgoblin. He turned to the halfing and grabbed him roughly by the arm. "Come with me, boy. I've got a pack with your name all over it, I do. You've had a nice vacation with this lot, but fun time is over. High time you did some real work." The hafling began to protest but Gilic shoved him roughly and stifled his complaint. Orchid smiled at him toothily, forcing the halfing to chuckle nervously.
The party took their leave of the room and moved a ways down the passageway before stopping to talk to their new purchase. The hafling introduced himself as Rindall Halfmoon of the Seven Pillar Hall, the son of Erra Halfmoon. Rendall tracked down the hobgoblin slavers to collect on the extensive bar tab they ran at his mother's inn and tavern, the Halfmoon Inn. Grateful for his rescue, Rendall was a veritable fountain of information. He told the party that the Mages of Saruun rule Seven Pillar Hall and much of Thunderspire Labyrinth. The Mages employ Brug, an ogre, as their chief enforcer of law and order in Thunderspire. The Mages outlawed slavery, forcing the Bloodreavers to the outskirts of Thunderspire, a den known as the Chamber of Eyes. Rendall opined that the Mages didn't forbid slavery from moral qualms, but because the Bloodreavers refused to pay a cut of their earnings. Rendall offered to escort the party to the Seven Pillar Hall and the Halfmoon Inn to stay as his guests. The party agreed.
Upon arriving, Rindall gave a full tour the Hall, a massive cavern carved out in the middle of an ancient mountain. Numerous landmarks were pointed out, including a raging river slicing through the middle of the cavern, complete with thundering waterfall; numerous shops and provisioners; a massive 30ft tall minotaur statue with a set of crackling runes at its foot; a Temple of Torm and; a second tavern, Rothar's Tap Room.
Rindall next took the party to his mother's inn, the Halfmoon. Upon entering, the adventurers were greeted to a bustling tavern area, a massive ogre flanked by two human conspicuously sitting at the bar. The ogre thundered to no one in particular for another ale. He caught the party's movement in the corner of his eyes, turned his head slightly to take them in, and then smiled broadly, unleashing a deep, rumbling chuckle as he said, "Newbies."
The ogre turned to fully face the party as his two human guards stepped ominously backwards. A knotted great club leaned against the bar next to him. The ogre continued to grin as he said, "I've naught see this lot in town before. Sean? Blake? You seen rabble here before?"
"No sir. They must just arrived," the two guards said in complete unison.
"Well, we must welcome them to the Seven Pillar Halls. Welcome, rabble!" The ogre paused a moment. A cough from the now subdued tavern crowd broke the silence.
"Welcome, rabble!" the ogre repeated. He continued, not waiting for a response, "As newly arrived, you likely don't know about the entrance tax. We can't be everywhere at once when visitors step into our halls, but since we've stumbled into each other so fortuitously, I'll be collecting the gold per head right now.
He paused again as his grin began to fade. His face quickly hardened as he growled lowly, "That'll be seven gold."
Taegahn suddenly spoke, "I'm surprised you can even count to seven."
With surprising speed, the ogre grabbed hold of his great club as he leaped toward the party. He crammed his face into Taegahn's, his club held high above him. "What was that, elf? I don't think I heard you right."
Behind and out of sight of the ogre, Rindall flapped his arms and shook his head at the party. Taegahn inferred the implied message and squeaked to the ogre, "Uh, nothing sir." Gilic stepped forward and said, "Brug, I presume. 10 gold entrance tax? I have that right here, laddy."
Brug didn't move, instead moving closer to Taegahn, nose-to-nose. "I'm afraid the tax just went up. I didn't know you had a smartass in the party. That's extra. 5 gold per. Any other smartasses I need to assess?"
No one spoke. The ogre grunted approval, turning to Gilic. "15 gold, dwarf." He held out a paw of a hand. Gilic counted out the coin and Brug dropped it into a fold of his belt harness. "C'mon Sean and Blake, let's head over to Rother's. I can't take the stink of this place anymore today."
Rendall sighed deeply when the enforcers left, begging the party not to anger Brug and the Mages of Saruun anymore during their visit. After enjoying an ale or two and meeting Rindall's mother, Erra, the party excused themselves to a room in the inn so they could plan out their next move. After much discussion, the adventurers decided to travel through the Dragon's Door to the Chamber of Eyes, the well-known den of the Bloodreavers. After resting and marshaling their resolve, the party set out. Earlier, Queequeg commissioned Rindall to draw up a map leading to the door of the Chamber of Eyes.
Rindall's map proved worthy of the 5 gold it cost. It didn't take the party long to reach an ornate door, a great eye in its center, eye stalks flowing from it like rays of sunshine. Orchid heard guttural voices behind it, expertly picking the lock. Shava noted a balcony fifteen feet up to the left of the door. Queequeg and Gareth stepped up to the door and burst into it, revealing a squad of howling goblin beserkers. From the balcony outside, two bugbears came into viewing, climbing down and flanking the party from behind. The adventurers created to fronts, Queequeg and Gareth plowing into the goblins, while Gilic stepped up to the bugbears. Taegaghn shot through the doors and up a set of stairs into the balcony the bugbears had just vacated, unleashing a barrage of arrows into their backs. Gareth sliced into raging goblins, while Queequeg provide supplementing attacks and healing. Orchid flanked a bugbear effectively, but drew both their ire and paid dearly with a pounding attack. Shava healed her numerous times. Cedric split his attention between both combats, delivering withering area-of-effect attacks to the goblin beserkers. Finally, the last goblin and bugbear fell to the ground dead.
TO BE CONTINUED
Phat Lewt(s):
Belt of Sacrifice
Line(s) of the Night:
"If you break that, I will kill you." - Megan to Jeff, as Jeff taps on a ceiling rafter.
"I want you to take care of it asshole." - Megan to Blake, when Blake asked how he should slide out his chair.
"Hobgoblitar!" - Blake, unintentionally inventing the name of James' next character.
"I'll show you my crotch rocket, bitch." - Simon to Craig, after Craig called Simon's motorcycle a crotch rocket.
"Do you remember that time you were really awesome?" - Sean to Blake.
"Is his name Mr. Wiggles?" - James, asking about Megan's flashlight pig.
"No, Mr. Wiggles takes batteries and hides under the bed." - Craig
Baked Good of the Night:
None. /hunger /sob /cry
Gilic barged into the chamber, holding out a money purse and bellowing, "Aye, I've got 20 gold for your wee slave there. I've need of a good porter and that one will serve nicely." The hobgoblin slavers glanced at each other and then at their two leaders towards the back of the room.
The two robed leaders paused for just a moment before sneering at Gilic. "Who said anything about a slave? You've got the wrong room dwarf. Best take yourself and that mop you call a beard right back out the door you came from before someone gets hurt."
Gilic didn't seem to register either the threat or the insult. "You can't fool me, laddy. I overheard you deciding the fate of this hear slave as my friends and I passed by. You suspect to get 10 gold for the whelp. I offer 20." He held the coin purse higher and shook it back and forth, producing a heavy jingling sound.
The leaders gave each other a knowing look and then murmured low, "20 gold. And a 5 gold processing fee."
"Done." Gilic reached into the purse, deftly withdrew a handful of coins and threw the rest at the nearest hobgoblin. He turned to the halfing and grabbed him roughly by the arm. "Come with me, boy. I've got a pack with your name all over it, I do. You've had a nice vacation with this lot, but fun time is over. High time you did some real work." The hafling began to protest but Gilic shoved him roughly and stifled his complaint. Orchid smiled at him toothily, forcing the halfing to chuckle nervously.
The party took their leave of the room and moved a ways down the passageway before stopping to talk to their new purchase. The hafling introduced himself as Rindall Halfmoon of the Seven Pillar Hall, the son of Erra Halfmoon. Rendall tracked down the hobgoblin slavers to collect on the extensive bar tab they ran at his mother's inn and tavern, the Halfmoon Inn. Grateful for his rescue, Rendall was a veritable fountain of information. He told the party that the Mages of Saruun rule Seven Pillar Hall and much of Thunderspire Labyrinth. The Mages employ Brug, an ogre, as their chief enforcer of law and order in Thunderspire. The Mages outlawed slavery, forcing the Bloodreavers to the outskirts of Thunderspire, a den known as the Chamber of Eyes. Rendall opined that the Mages didn't forbid slavery from moral qualms, but because the Bloodreavers refused to pay a cut of their earnings. Rendall offered to escort the party to the Seven Pillar Hall and the Halfmoon Inn to stay as his guests. The party agreed.
Upon arriving, Rindall gave a full tour the Hall, a massive cavern carved out in the middle of an ancient mountain. Numerous landmarks were pointed out, including a raging river slicing through the middle of the cavern, complete with thundering waterfall; numerous shops and provisioners; a massive 30ft tall minotaur statue with a set of crackling runes at its foot; a Temple of Torm and; a second tavern, Rothar's Tap Room.
Rindall next took the party to his mother's inn, the Halfmoon. Upon entering, the adventurers were greeted to a bustling tavern area, a massive ogre flanked by two human conspicuously sitting at the bar. The ogre thundered to no one in particular for another ale. He caught the party's movement in the corner of his eyes, turned his head slightly to take them in, and then smiled broadly, unleashing a deep, rumbling chuckle as he said, "Newbies."
The ogre turned to fully face the party as his two human guards stepped ominously backwards. A knotted great club leaned against the bar next to him. The ogre continued to grin as he said, "I've naught see this lot in town before. Sean? Blake? You seen rabble here before?"
"No sir. They must just arrived," the two guards said in complete unison.
"Well, we must welcome them to the Seven Pillar Halls. Welcome, rabble!" The ogre paused a moment. A cough from the now subdued tavern crowd broke the silence.
"Welcome, rabble!" the ogre repeated. He continued, not waiting for a response, "As newly arrived, you likely don't know about the entrance tax. We can't be everywhere at once when visitors step into our halls, but since we've stumbled into each other so fortuitously, I'll be collecting the gold per head right now.
He paused again as his grin began to fade. His face quickly hardened as he growled lowly, "That'll be seven gold."
Taegahn suddenly spoke, "I'm surprised you can even count to seven."
With surprising speed, the ogre grabbed hold of his great club as he leaped toward the party. He crammed his face into Taegahn's, his club held high above him. "What was that, elf? I don't think I heard you right."
Behind and out of sight of the ogre, Rindall flapped his arms and shook his head at the party. Taegahn inferred the implied message and squeaked to the ogre, "Uh, nothing sir." Gilic stepped forward and said, "Brug, I presume. 10 gold entrance tax? I have that right here, laddy."
Brug didn't move, instead moving closer to Taegahn, nose-to-nose. "I'm afraid the tax just went up. I didn't know you had a smartass in the party. That's extra. 5 gold per. Any other smartasses I need to assess?"
No one spoke. The ogre grunted approval, turning to Gilic. "15 gold, dwarf." He held out a paw of a hand. Gilic counted out the coin and Brug dropped it into a fold of his belt harness. "C'mon Sean and Blake, let's head over to Rother's. I can't take the stink of this place anymore today."
Rendall sighed deeply when the enforcers left, begging the party not to anger Brug and the Mages of Saruun anymore during their visit. After enjoying an ale or two and meeting Rindall's mother, Erra, the party excused themselves to a room in the inn so they could plan out their next move. After much discussion, the adventurers decided to travel through the Dragon's Door to the Chamber of Eyes, the well-known den of the Bloodreavers. After resting and marshaling their resolve, the party set out. Earlier, Queequeg commissioned Rindall to draw up a map leading to the door of the Chamber of Eyes.
Rindall's map proved worthy of the 5 gold it cost. It didn't take the party long to reach an ornate door, a great eye in its center, eye stalks flowing from it like rays of sunshine. Orchid heard guttural voices behind it, expertly picking the lock. Shava noted a balcony fifteen feet up to the left of the door. Queequeg and Gareth stepped up to the door and burst into it, revealing a squad of howling goblin beserkers. From the balcony outside, two bugbears came into viewing, climbing down and flanking the party from behind. The adventurers created to fronts, Queequeg and Gareth plowing into the goblins, while Gilic stepped up to the bugbears. Taegaghn shot through the doors and up a set of stairs into the balcony the bugbears had just vacated, unleashing a barrage of arrows into their backs. Gareth sliced into raging goblins, while Queequeg provide supplementing attacks and healing. Orchid flanked a bugbear effectively, but drew both their ire and paid dearly with a pounding attack. Shava healed her numerous times. Cedric split his attention between both combats, delivering withering area-of-effect attacks to the goblin beserkers. Finally, the last goblin and bugbear fell to the ground dead.
TO BE CONTINUED
Phat Lewt(s):
Belt of Sacrifice
Line(s) of the Night:
"If you break that, I will kill you." - Megan to Jeff, as Jeff taps on a ceiling rafter.
"I want you to take care of it asshole." - Megan to Blake, when Blake asked how he should slide out his chair.
"Hobgoblitar!" - Blake, unintentionally inventing the name of James' next character.
"I'll show you my crotch rocket, bitch." - Simon to Craig, after Craig called Simon's motorcycle a crotch rocket.
"Do you remember that time you were really awesome?" - Sean to Blake.
"Is his name Mr. Wiggles?" - James, asking about Megan's flashlight pig.
"No, Mr. Wiggles takes batteries and hides under the bed." - Craig
Baked Good of the Night:
None. /hunger /sob /cry
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Owlbears and Entrails
Summary:
The party finished outfitting themselves in preparation for the days journey to Thunderspire Labyrinth. They set out early in the morning on horseback, establishing a brisk but vigilant pace. In the middle of the afternoon of the first day, the adventurers came upon deep furrows parallel and perpendicular to the well-traveled road. Suspicious, they dismounted. After tying off the horses a safe distance away, Gareth approached a furrow. Suddenly, the ground shook violently. The nearby horses rose up in fear and the adventurers lurched back and forth trying to keep their balance. Some fell flat while a few maintained a precarious, upright stance.
At the very back of the line, Cedric fell flat on his back. Staring up into the blue afternoon sky, the tremoring rippled nearby him. A bullette exploded from the ground in front of Cedric and attacked the hapless wizard. The rest of the party closed in, forming a circle around the heavily armored beast. Orchid tumbled behind the bulette, distracting it enough to deal devastating damage to its softer underbelly. Gareth and Gilic formed a solid front, supplemented by Queequeg, while Taegahn and Shava fired from range. Cedric managed to disengage from range and rain icy cold upon the butette, damaging and immoblizing it. As many blows bounced off the creature's thick hide as actually landed, but eventually the bulette was vanquished.
That very night, in the throes of deep sleep, a mating pair of owlbears struck the slumbering camp. Gareth was immediately grabbed by the first monstrosity. Shava too fell victim to the second owlbear's attack. Both adventurers shouted out for help as their flesh was rend and their bones snapped. Shava nearly perished but for some careful healing on the part of Cedric, Gilic, and Queequeg. Taegahn fired nearly point blank into the owlbear grabbing Shava, separating the foul-smelling ursine from his gravely wounded sister.
At this point, Taegahn turned to Queequeg and said, "My friend Queequeg, I just noticed you're wearing hide armor now."
Queequeg swung and missed an owlbear just as it was sinking its clicking beak into the head of a screaming Gareth. "Indeed, Taegahan. I donned chain earlier in our adventures, but Gilic pointed out that the heavy nature of that --ACK! IT HAS YOUR ENTIRE HEAD IN ITS MAW, GARETH! ITS ABOUT TO EXPLODE LIKE A MELON! DIE, BEAR-THING, DIE!
Taegahn unleashed a flurry of arrows and said, "You were saying, the heavy nature of . . . "
Queequeg helped pry Gareth's head out of the owlbear's snapping beak. "Yes, quite right. Gilic pointed out that the heavy nature of chain mail unnaturally inhibited my innate tactical abilities. Though not nearly as tough, hide armor grants me better tactical maneuverability. I was reluctant at first but -- BY THE JUSTICE OF TORM, GARETH! YOUR GUTS LIE STREWN ALL OVER. AHHHHH! DON'T STEP ON THAT! HE MUST NEED THAT TO LIVE!
Taegahn calmly unleashed another volley of steel-tipped wood. "Interesting. Well, my dragonborn friend, it just so happens I wear a set of hide bloodcut armor. It's served me well so far, but is truly better suited for a melee type. Such as yourself. Afterwards, I would most like to trade armor with you, if you would be so inclined."
Holding Gareth's kidney in one hand, dripping sword in the other, Queequeg paused to look over at Taegahn. "Why my dear Taegahn, how extraordinarily generous of you my friend. Yes! I accept your generous offer."
Suddenly, the owlbears raised their beaks to the sky and shrieked a piercing cry, interrupting Queequeg and Taegahn's conversation and temporarily stunning Gilic and Shava. The rest of the party shook off the haunting cry and continued attacking the beasts. The monsters finally realized they were over matched and fled off into the woods. The next morning, the party tracked them to their lair. Badly wounded, the party finished off the adults and killed the younglings for good measure. Gilic donned a magical helmet found in the owlbear's nest.
The next day, the party entered the Storm Horn Mountains. Ominous dark clouds hovered overhead as the adventurers traversed narrowing mountain passes. Side trails splintered off in all directions, sometimes leading in entirely new directions, other times winding back. The main path led to a door in the side of the mountain. The party stepped through into a hallway of masonry and torchlight. The traveled some distance before they heard voices. They heard a guttural humanoid say loudly, "We could get five gold for this halfing, we could."
A smaller voice responded, "My good friend, I assure you I'm worth not even the clothes on my back. If I could just see my way past you and be on my way, I'd be in your debt."
The other laughed sharply, "I don't think so."
Gilic whispered, "Aye, I've got an idea. Let's enter the room, posing as the mercenary band were meant to be. We'll offer to buy the haflin' for ten gold, double that bloke's offer. If he agrees, the haflin' might have something interesting to tell us. If he doesn't, we might have something interesting to show them slavers."
TO BE CONTINUED
Line(s) of the Night:
"That's important, give it back!" - Jeff, referring to the guts that a hungry owlbear just ripped out of him.
"Hey, way to spit all over your character sheet." - Craig, commenting on Blake slobbering over everything in front of him.
"Nothing came out of my nose yet!" - Craig noticing that Diet Coke wasn't spraying out of his nostrils while he laughed.
Baked Good of the Night:
Megan's molasses cookies. Yummy!
The party finished outfitting themselves in preparation for the days journey to Thunderspire Labyrinth. They set out early in the morning on horseback, establishing a brisk but vigilant pace. In the middle of the afternoon of the first day, the adventurers came upon deep furrows parallel and perpendicular to the well-traveled road. Suspicious, they dismounted. After tying off the horses a safe distance away, Gareth approached a furrow. Suddenly, the ground shook violently. The nearby horses rose up in fear and the adventurers lurched back and forth trying to keep their balance. Some fell flat while a few maintained a precarious, upright stance.
At the very back of the line, Cedric fell flat on his back. Staring up into the blue afternoon sky, the tremoring rippled nearby him. A bullette exploded from the ground in front of Cedric and attacked the hapless wizard. The rest of the party closed in, forming a circle around the heavily armored beast. Orchid tumbled behind the bulette, distracting it enough to deal devastating damage to its softer underbelly. Gareth and Gilic formed a solid front, supplemented by Queequeg, while Taegahn and Shava fired from range. Cedric managed to disengage from range and rain icy cold upon the butette, damaging and immoblizing it. As many blows bounced off the creature's thick hide as actually landed, but eventually the bulette was vanquished.
That very night, in the throes of deep sleep, a mating pair of owlbears struck the slumbering camp. Gareth was immediately grabbed by the first monstrosity. Shava too fell victim to the second owlbear's attack. Both adventurers shouted out for help as their flesh was rend and their bones snapped. Shava nearly perished but for some careful healing on the part of Cedric, Gilic, and Queequeg. Taegahn fired nearly point blank into the owlbear grabbing Shava, separating the foul-smelling ursine from his gravely wounded sister.
At this point, Taegahn turned to Queequeg and said, "My friend Queequeg, I just noticed you're wearing hide armor now."
Queequeg swung and missed an owlbear just as it was sinking its clicking beak into the head of a screaming Gareth. "Indeed, Taegahan. I donned chain earlier in our adventures, but Gilic pointed out that the heavy nature of that --ACK! IT HAS YOUR ENTIRE HEAD IN ITS MAW, GARETH! ITS ABOUT TO EXPLODE LIKE A MELON! DIE, BEAR-THING, DIE!
Taegahn unleashed a flurry of arrows and said, "You were saying, the heavy nature of . . . "
Queequeg helped pry Gareth's head out of the owlbear's snapping beak. "Yes, quite right. Gilic pointed out that the heavy nature of chain mail unnaturally inhibited my innate tactical abilities. Though not nearly as tough, hide armor grants me better tactical maneuverability. I was reluctant at first but -- BY THE JUSTICE OF TORM, GARETH! YOUR GUTS LIE STREWN ALL OVER. AHHHHH! DON'T STEP ON THAT! HE MUST NEED THAT TO LIVE!
Taegahn calmly unleashed another volley of steel-tipped wood. "Interesting. Well, my dragonborn friend, it just so happens I wear a set of hide bloodcut armor. It's served me well so far, but is truly better suited for a melee type. Such as yourself. Afterwards, I would most like to trade armor with you, if you would be so inclined."
Holding Gareth's kidney in one hand, dripping sword in the other, Queequeg paused to look over at Taegahn. "Why my dear Taegahn, how extraordinarily generous of you my friend. Yes! I accept your generous offer."
Suddenly, the owlbears raised their beaks to the sky and shrieked a piercing cry, interrupting Queequeg and Taegahn's conversation and temporarily stunning Gilic and Shava. The rest of the party shook off the haunting cry and continued attacking the beasts. The monsters finally realized they were over matched and fled off into the woods. The next morning, the party tracked them to their lair. Badly wounded, the party finished off the adults and killed the younglings for good measure. Gilic donned a magical helmet found in the owlbear's nest.
The next day, the party entered the Storm Horn Mountains. Ominous dark clouds hovered overhead as the adventurers traversed narrowing mountain passes. Side trails splintered off in all directions, sometimes leading in entirely new directions, other times winding back. The main path led to a door in the side of the mountain. The party stepped through into a hallway of masonry and torchlight. The traveled some distance before they heard voices. They heard a guttural humanoid say loudly, "We could get five gold for this halfing, we could."
A smaller voice responded, "My good friend, I assure you I'm worth not even the clothes on my back. If I could just see my way past you and be on my way, I'd be in your debt."
The other laughed sharply, "I don't think so."
Gilic whispered, "Aye, I've got an idea. Let's enter the room, posing as the mercenary band were meant to be. We'll offer to buy the haflin' for ten gold, double that bloke's offer. If he agrees, the haflin' might have something interesting to tell us. If he doesn't, we might have something interesting to show them slavers."
TO BE CONTINUED
Line(s) of the Night:
"That's important, give it back!" - Jeff, referring to the guts that a hungry owlbear just ripped out of him.
"Hey, way to spit all over your character sheet." - Craig, commenting on Blake slobbering over everything in front of him.
"Nothing came out of my nose yet!" - Craig noticing that Diet Coke wasn't spraying out of his nostrils while he laughed.
Baked Good of the Night:
Megan's molasses cookies. Yummy!
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Role-playing Bonanza!
Summary:
The party rested from the dire wolf encounter and departed early the next morning. They were unmolested for the rest of the journey. When they finally rode into the city of Arabel, a crowd of children and spectators took quick notice. Hushed whispers, enthusiastic cheers, and steely gazes followed the adventurers as they wound their way through the packed streets of Arabel towards the gleaming glass tower of Tymora's Temple.
Queequeg noticed the crowd especially attentive to the novelty of a dragonborn in their midst. The children especially pointed at the warlord, their mouths hanging slack as they gibbered about scales and girth, talons and snout. Queequeg smiled to himself, tilted his head back, and unleashed a torrent of turquoise lightning into the sky straight above. The children and more cowardly adults scampered away only to peek their heads back at the retreating convoy and cheer their delight. Gilic himself chuckled, reaching into coin purse and flinging a handful of copper and silver to the adoring crowd. The children lunged for the shiny bits, one adult in particular elbowing a little girl in the face to grab a stray gold.
As the party approached the resplendent Temple of Tymora, Taegahan wondered aloud if the tower refracted the sun's rays enough to burn flesh and start fires. Entering the Temple, the adventurers were greeted with an unusual sight: tables and apparatus spread throughout a large chamber, all devoted to gambling. As the goddess of luck, Tymora relished games of chance and fully embraced them within her halls of worship. Hostess Ann greeted the party immediately, taking their drink orders and inviting them to gamble for a time. The party played a variety of games, including dragonbones. More money was lost than won, though Orchid walked away significantly richer than she arrived.
Not long after, Hostess Ann ushered the party into a more subdued, quieter antechamber. She informed the party that Sister Mary Margaret was currently at a meeting, but that she asked the adventurers to dine while they waited. They ate from an eclectic menu, including venison stew and mixed vegetables. Finally, Sister Margaret entered the room, addressing the party warmly. She listened intently to their brief summary of events surrounding Shadowfell Keep, her brow furrowed upon hearing the existence and demise of Kalarel. Sister Margaret smiled brightly at the end of their tale, congratulating them on a job well done. She motioned to Ann who handed each member a heavy coin purse.
"As grateful as I am to all of you for investigating and defeating the evil at the Keep, I'm afraid Cormyr still has need of you," Sister Margaret intoned. She explained that on behalf of Lord Darius Ruckus, the Lord of Arabel, she humbly requested the Victors of Shadowfell Keep investigate reports of slavery not far from a trading post in the mountains just north of the city. The trading post was established by a syndicate of arcanist knows as the Mages of Seurun. Trading in gems, jewels, and rare ore that are mined from a nearby ruin, Thuderspire Labyrinth also markets a handful of rare artifacts and items of more modest magical power. Sister Margaret acknowledges the post fully engages in trade with the Underdark. As a conduit between the realm beneath and the surface, it boasts booming traffic and strong profits. As a result, the Mages of Seurn enjoy immense power within the small borders of Thunderspire Labyrinth and along its trade routes.
Sister Margaret entreated the party to journey to the outpost and advertise themselves as mercenary adventurers. Undercover, she asked the party to investigate the reports of slavery and crush any operation running such a corrupt business. Additionally, she asks to the party to take in their surrounding, documenting all that they witness, map areas and regions they explore, including the ruins that feed the post's gem, jewel, and artifact market.
Sister Margaret ended her request: "Lastly, Lord Ruckus has received troubling reports of a singularity event of significant power in or around Thunderspire Labyrinth. The nature of the power is unknown, but it hints at a world-ending event. Of all the tasks set before you, this is the most important. Find the source of this continuum rupture. Investigate the ramifications of its existence. If it proves a danger to Arabel, Cormyr, by the goddess Tymora all of Faerun itself, do everything in your power to destroy it. May Lady Luck shine on you all and the good work you do."
Sister Margaret excused herself and the party left the Temple for the luxurious accommodations of the Falcon's Crest. For much coin, the party enjoyed attended hot baths, expansive menu, and as much drink as they could imbibe. The party spent their days outfitting themselves for the approaching adventure and meeting with Hostess Ann to detail their exploits at Shadowfell Keep. Toron, a halfing information broker, also paid them a visit. A representative of Halfings Incorporated (for the love of god no), the small agent promised unique information at bargain prices. The adventurers paid up. Toron told them the name of the slaving organization working outside the minotaur ruin: Bloodreavers.
To Be Continued.
Line(s) of the Night:
"Oh my god, I'm drunk." - Blake upon finding out that drinks are free at Tymora's Temple.
"You fucker!" - Craig after Blake's wall-shaking belch interrupts an Orsen Wells-esque reading of Arabel flavor text.
"He sounds right up your alley" Megan to Pati, of a strapping young halfing information broker.
"He will be in a moment." Blake. Sexual innuendo???????
Visual of the Night:
Simon's legs spread wide, Megan on all fours in front of him on the pretext of looking for a dropped die.
Baked Good of the Night:
Megan's Jumbles. Muy delicioso!
The party rested from the dire wolf encounter and departed early the next morning. They were unmolested for the rest of the journey. When they finally rode into the city of Arabel, a crowd of children and spectators took quick notice. Hushed whispers, enthusiastic cheers, and steely gazes followed the adventurers as they wound their way through the packed streets of Arabel towards the gleaming glass tower of Tymora's Temple.
Queequeg noticed the crowd especially attentive to the novelty of a dragonborn in their midst. The children especially pointed at the warlord, their mouths hanging slack as they gibbered about scales and girth, talons and snout. Queequeg smiled to himself, tilted his head back, and unleashed a torrent of turquoise lightning into the sky straight above. The children and more cowardly adults scampered away only to peek their heads back at the retreating convoy and cheer their delight. Gilic himself chuckled, reaching into coin purse and flinging a handful of copper and silver to the adoring crowd. The children lunged for the shiny bits, one adult in particular elbowing a little girl in the face to grab a stray gold.
As the party approached the resplendent Temple of Tymora, Taegahan wondered aloud if the tower refracted the sun's rays enough to burn flesh and start fires. Entering the Temple, the adventurers were greeted with an unusual sight: tables and apparatus spread throughout a large chamber, all devoted to gambling. As the goddess of luck, Tymora relished games of chance and fully embraced them within her halls of worship. Hostess Ann greeted the party immediately, taking their drink orders and inviting them to gamble for a time. The party played a variety of games, including dragonbones. More money was lost than won, though Orchid walked away significantly richer than she arrived.
Not long after, Hostess Ann ushered the party into a more subdued, quieter antechamber. She informed the party that Sister Mary Margaret was currently at a meeting, but that she asked the adventurers to dine while they waited. They ate from an eclectic menu, including venison stew and mixed vegetables. Finally, Sister Margaret entered the room, addressing the party warmly. She listened intently to their brief summary of events surrounding Shadowfell Keep, her brow furrowed upon hearing the existence and demise of Kalarel. Sister Margaret smiled brightly at the end of their tale, congratulating them on a job well done. She motioned to Ann who handed each member a heavy coin purse.
"As grateful as I am to all of you for investigating and defeating the evil at the Keep, I'm afraid Cormyr still has need of you," Sister Margaret intoned. She explained that on behalf of Lord Darius Ruckus, the Lord of Arabel, she humbly requested the Victors of Shadowfell Keep investigate reports of slavery not far from a trading post in the mountains just north of the city. The trading post was established by a syndicate of arcanist knows as the Mages of Seurun. Trading in gems, jewels, and rare ore that are mined from a nearby ruin, Thuderspire Labyrinth also markets a handful of rare artifacts and items of more modest magical power. Sister Margaret acknowledges the post fully engages in trade with the Underdark. As a conduit between the realm beneath and the surface, it boasts booming traffic and strong profits. As a result, the Mages of Seurn enjoy immense power within the small borders of Thunderspire Labyrinth and along its trade routes.
Sister Margaret entreated the party to journey to the outpost and advertise themselves as mercenary adventurers. Undercover, she asked the party to investigate the reports of slavery and crush any operation running such a corrupt business. Additionally, she asks to the party to take in their surrounding, documenting all that they witness, map areas and regions they explore, including the ruins that feed the post's gem, jewel, and artifact market.
Sister Margaret ended her request: "Lastly, Lord Ruckus has received troubling reports of a singularity event of significant power in or around Thunderspire Labyrinth. The nature of the power is unknown, but it hints at a world-ending event. Of all the tasks set before you, this is the most important. Find the source of this continuum rupture. Investigate the ramifications of its existence. If it proves a danger to Arabel, Cormyr, by the goddess Tymora all of Faerun itself, do everything in your power to destroy it. May Lady Luck shine on you all and the good work you do."
Sister Margaret excused herself and the party left the Temple for the luxurious accommodations of the Falcon's Crest. For much coin, the party enjoyed attended hot baths, expansive menu, and as much drink as they could imbibe. The party spent their days outfitting themselves for the approaching adventure and meeting with Hostess Ann to detail their exploits at Shadowfell Keep. Toron, a halfing information broker, also paid them a visit. A representative of Halfings Incorporated (for the love of god no), the small agent promised unique information at bargain prices. The adventurers paid up. Toron told them the name of the slaving organization working outside the minotaur ruin: Bloodreavers.
To Be Continued.
Line(s) of the Night:
"Oh my god, I'm drunk." - Blake upon finding out that drinks are free at Tymora's Temple.
"You fucker!" - Craig after Blake's wall-shaking belch interrupts an Orsen Wells-esque reading of Arabel flavor text.
"He sounds right up your alley" Megan to Pati, of a strapping young halfing information broker.
"He will be in a moment." Blake. Sexual innuendo???????
Visual of the Night:
Simon's legs spread wide, Megan on all fours in front of him on the pretext of looking for a dropped die.
Baked Good of the Night:
Megan's Jumbles. Muy delicioso!
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Ale and Accolades
Summary:
Just as Kalarel melted into waxy blackness and the dark gate sucked him into its curious void, a storm broke outside the walls of the keep. It blew and rained with thunderous fury. The party stepped into the blood pool and carefully climbed through the sacrificial pit, making their way to the exit of the keep. They poked their heads out the archway and witnessed a terrific storm above them. Entire chucks of masonry tore from the walls of the keep as sheets of rain blanketed the countryside. The adventurers eased themselves back into the safety of the keep, hunkering down together for safety and warmth. Hours later, the storm abated. The party once again poked their heads out. Directly above them, blue sky. All around, swirling masses of clouds. They crawled back to shelter and a half hour later the storm resumed its pounding fury.
By early evening, the storm passed fully and the party gathered gear and loot and left the keep. The storm had further dilapidated the once proud structure. Felled trees, broken branches, and miscellaneous storm debris lined the road, hampering travel. The party arrived at Winterhaven in the wee hours of the morning. The guards summoned a bleary-eyed Lord Padreg, who arranged lodging at the local inn and then returned to slumber. Exhausted, the party collapsed in their beds and slept the sleep of the satisfied weary.
The next morning, Lord Padreg greeted the party in the common room. The adventurers debriefed Padreg, summarizing everything that had happened since they last left Winterhaven, including the climatic battle with Kalarel and his ignominious demise. Lord Padreg listened intently, his eyes shining with excitement and relief upon hearing the great evil so close to his sleepy hamlet had been squashed. In the end, he clapped his hands together and said, "Well done, heroes, well done! Please, you must stay another night and day. Let Winterhaven plan a feast in your honor, celebrating the great work you have done this day." The party kindly acquiesced, relaxing in the common room while the townspeople scurried about making preparations.
While sipping dwarven ale and elven wine, the party heard rumor that two brash wheelwrights, Clod and Ben Stiller, had left town yesterday to visit the abandoned shack of the now dead ranger, Ninaran. Well rested and already thirsty for adventure, the party readied themselves and headed out for the ranger's outpost. Except for Gilic. The dwarf barricaded himself inside the inn room, refusing to join the last-minute expedition so he could meditate on the finer points of Shava's parton goddess.
Tucked deep within the neighboring woods, Ninaran's shack was a one room affair with a slanted roof and a surrounding clearing. As the house came into sight, Taegahn and Orchid crept forward to gather reconnaissance. In front of the shack, the remains of the young wheelwrights glistened under the morning dawn. Entrails and dismembered limbs signaled a savage attack. Keeping to the forest edge of the clearing, Taegahn and Orchid continued rounding the shack. Soon, the sound of heavy rustling came to ear. As they came to the back of the house, they observed four drakes bound from a hole in the roof of the shack, calcified talons clicking sharply against the granite slabs that dotted much of the wooded landscape. Trading snarling nips, the pair of guard and needlefang drakes raced each other back to the grizzly remains of the hapless boys. The winning drake plunged its head into the chest cavity of the nearest corpse, gnashing and rooting its fill of entrails, tendons, and meat. The other three fought over the second corpse, tearing loose limbs in the jostling.
Taegahn and Orchid watched the spectacle from the safety of cover. With a nod, they carefully withdrew to make their way back to the party. Only, Orchid unskillfully stepped upon a dry twig. The snapping sound cut through the drake's carnal grunts. The animals snapped their heads straights up and slightly tilted, listening for more. Seconds later, they leaped toward Orchid's position. Taegahn continued making his way to the party. At the last minute, Gilic raced up out of breath. The party stared at him expectantly. Catching his wind, he finally let out, "And my hammer!" Queequeg rolled his eyes as Taegahn came into view, hooting unconvincingly like an owl and motioning the party forward. The adventurers sprinted towards the shack's clearing.
Meanwhile, two of the drakes flanked Orchid, biting grievous wounds into her lightly armored body. She gave as well as she got, blinding one and slicing into the other. Taegahn and Cedric banded together and wrecked horrible carnage upon the two closing needlefang drakes. Gilic, Queequeg, Gareth, and Shava continued sprinting to Orchid's rescue. Shava and Gilic called upon the healing word of their deity's to mend Orchid while Gareth and Queequeg coordinated an attack that felled the remaining guard drakes. The shack turned up empty but for a note that gave directions to track the movements of the party with respect to Shadowfell Keep. Old news. The party bagged the remains of the wheelwrights and made their way back to Winterhaven.
The adventurers diplomatically dropped off the bodies to the concerned family. Amid their sobbing, Taegahn handed them a bag of silver. The wheelwrights had been penniless in death, but Taegahn lied and said he found the pouch on one of the bodies. The family thanked him profusely, knowingly.
That night, Winterhaven launched a legendary feast in honor of the heroes. Lord Padreg gave a speech espousing the heroic virtue of the heroes before him. He referred to them as the "Heroes of Arabel." The adventurers glanced amongst themselves uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, Taegahn rose from the table and interrupted Padreg's speech. "Uh, pardon my lord, but we've been through the town of Arabel but once. If we are to be heroes, perhaps we should hail from somewhere, someplace, or something more closely related to our exploits." Shava, Taegahn's lovelier sister (in every way) rose too, a radiant light emanating from her. The entire town turned their view to hear, gazing with admiration and affection. Shava's voice rang out clear and true to the farthest corners of the hamlet, "The Victors of Shadowfell Keep!"
"The Victors of Shadowfell Keep!" the town shouted back and the adventurers smiled in return. Gilic now rose from his chair, his head just peaking over the well-laden table. He swayed back and forth unsteadily, his eyes glazed over in intoxicated glee. Dumping over his goblet of elven wine, he slurred, "Winterha-hic! I coo keel yoo awl. Hic! Yoo pets. Yoo wee childin. Hic!" He flung his arms wide and screeched, "Everting!!! Hic!" Before the party could intervene, the dwarf stumbled back into his chair and then fell face first into his plate, full of roasted mutton and spiced potatoes. The dwarf began to wheeze out a rumbling, rhythmic snore.
The crowd looked back in mute horror, the rest of the party chuckling politely. It was Lord Padreg's turn to clear his throat, once again taking center stage to continue his homage to the party. Soon, the celebration turned to music and dancing. Amid the revelry, Queequeg called for the melodius sounds of Taegahn's dulcet harp. Through gritted teeth, Taegahn angrily plucked sweet strings while Queequeg barked out a dragonborn song that had the crowd looking at each other uncomfortably and clapping politely and off-beat.
Not long after, Gilic awoke and rose again, a chunk of mutton snugly stuck in his beard. "Deed ah eva tell yoo da tale of my turd wife? Hic!"Sha had da booshiest tail yoo eva seen and afta I shod her, she rode like da wind. Hic! Sweet ridin' in da day, even sweeter riden' in da night, sha was da enva of the parish, dat one." Five adventurers swarmed Gilic before he could say more. Cedric mashed his face back into the plate, full into the potatoes. Gareth meanwhile procured another goblet of elven wine. He handed it to Gilic who once again pulled his head from the plate, mashed potato embedded in his eyebrows. He smiled contentedly as he took the wine, mumbling, "Aye, dats da stuff laddy. Come to daddy sweet nector. Hic!"
The rest of the evening past uneventfully and in the morning, the party assembled and then headed out of Winterhaven. The morning crowd lined the narrow streets, blowing kisses and shouting cheers of thanks. The Victors of Shadowfell Keep said their final goodbyes and then hit the road southeast towards Arabel.
That night, a pack of dire wolves and worgs attacked the party's encampment. Queegqueg and Orchid sounded the alarm. The battle was pitched. Queequeg nearly sucumbed to horrible bite wounds. If not for Shava's healing prowess, and his own inate ability to mend wounds, he surely would have died. VoSfK ultimately prevailed, slaying two of the dire wolves, one of the worgs, and sending the rest yiping into the dark of night.
To Be Continued
Phat Lewts:
Epic hangovers
Lines(s) of the Night:
"We're a team!" - Sean to Blake after the dynamic duo tag-teamed a ferious drake.
"We are not a team" - Blake's immediate response to Sean.
"Apparantly we're not a team, so I killed it." Sean, clarifying the bragging rights for said slain drake.
Rule(s) Clarification of the Night:
Megan teaching Craig the finer points of charging.
Just as Kalarel melted into waxy blackness and the dark gate sucked him into its curious void, a storm broke outside the walls of the keep. It blew and rained with thunderous fury. The party stepped into the blood pool and carefully climbed through the sacrificial pit, making their way to the exit of the keep. They poked their heads out the archway and witnessed a terrific storm above them. Entire chucks of masonry tore from the walls of the keep as sheets of rain blanketed the countryside. The adventurers eased themselves back into the safety of the keep, hunkering down together for safety and warmth. Hours later, the storm abated. The party once again poked their heads out. Directly above them, blue sky. All around, swirling masses of clouds. They crawled back to shelter and a half hour later the storm resumed its pounding fury.
By early evening, the storm passed fully and the party gathered gear and loot and left the keep. The storm had further dilapidated the once proud structure. Felled trees, broken branches, and miscellaneous storm debris lined the road, hampering travel. The party arrived at Winterhaven in the wee hours of the morning. The guards summoned a bleary-eyed Lord Padreg, who arranged lodging at the local inn and then returned to slumber. Exhausted, the party collapsed in their beds and slept the sleep of the satisfied weary.
The next morning, Lord Padreg greeted the party in the common room. The adventurers debriefed Padreg, summarizing everything that had happened since they last left Winterhaven, including the climatic battle with Kalarel and his ignominious demise. Lord Padreg listened intently, his eyes shining with excitement and relief upon hearing the great evil so close to his sleepy hamlet had been squashed. In the end, he clapped his hands together and said, "Well done, heroes, well done! Please, you must stay another night and day. Let Winterhaven plan a feast in your honor, celebrating the great work you have done this day." The party kindly acquiesced, relaxing in the common room while the townspeople scurried about making preparations.
While sipping dwarven ale and elven wine, the party heard rumor that two brash wheelwrights, Clod and Ben Stiller, had left town yesterday to visit the abandoned shack of the now dead ranger, Ninaran. Well rested and already thirsty for adventure, the party readied themselves and headed out for the ranger's outpost. Except for Gilic. The dwarf barricaded himself inside the inn room, refusing to join the last-minute expedition so he could meditate on the finer points of Shava's parton goddess.
Tucked deep within the neighboring woods, Ninaran's shack was a one room affair with a slanted roof and a surrounding clearing. As the house came into sight, Taegahn and Orchid crept forward to gather reconnaissance. In front of the shack, the remains of the young wheelwrights glistened under the morning dawn. Entrails and dismembered limbs signaled a savage attack. Keeping to the forest edge of the clearing, Taegahn and Orchid continued rounding the shack. Soon, the sound of heavy rustling came to ear. As they came to the back of the house, they observed four drakes bound from a hole in the roof of the shack, calcified talons clicking sharply against the granite slabs that dotted much of the wooded landscape. Trading snarling nips, the pair of guard and needlefang drakes raced each other back to the grizzly remains of the hapless boys. The winning drake plunged its head into the chest cavity of the nearest corpse, gnashing and rooting its fill of entrails, tendons, and meat. The other three fought over the second corpse, tearing loose limbs in the jostling.
Taegahn and Orchid watched the spectacle from the safety of cover. With a nod, they carefully withdrew to make their way back to the party. Only, Orchid unskillfully stepped upon a dry twig. The snapping sound cut through the drake's carnal grunts. The animals snapped their heads straights up and slightly tilted, listening for more. Seconds later, they leaped toward Orchid's position. Taegahn continued making his way to the party. At the last minute, Gilic raced up out of breath. The party stared at him expectantly. Catching his wind, he finally let out, "And my hammer!" Queequeg rolled his eyes as Taegahn came into view, hooting unconvincingly like an owl and motioning the party forward. The adventurers sprinted towards the shack's clearing.
Meanwhile, two of the drakes flanked Orchid, biting grievous wounds into her lightly armored body. She gave as well as she got, blinding one and slicing into the other. Taegahn and Cedric banded together and wrecked horrible carnage upon the two closing needlefang drakes. Gilic, Queequeg, Gareth, and Shava continued sprinting to Orchid's rescue. Shava and Gilic called upon the healing word of their deity's to mend Orchid while Gareth and Queequeg coordinated an attack that felled the remaining guard drakes. The shack turned up empty but for a note that gave directions to track the movements of the party with respect to Shadowfell Keep. Old news. The party bagged the remains of the wheelwrights and made their way back to Winterhaven.
The adventurers diplomatically dropped off the bodies to the concerned family. Amid their sobbing, Taegahn handed them a bag of silver. The wheelwrights had been penniless in death, but Taegahn lied and said he found the pouch on one of the bodies. The family thanked him profusely, knowingly.
That night, Winterhaven launched a legendary feast in honor of the heroes. Lord Padreg gave a speech espousing the heroic virtue of the heroes before him. He referred to them as the "Heroes of Arabel." The adventurers glanced amongst themselves uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, Taegahn rose from the table and interrupted Padreg's speech. "Uh, pardon my lord, but we've been through the town of Arabel but once. If we are to be heroes, perhaps we should hail from somewhere, someplace, or something more closely related to our exploits." Shava, Taegahn's lovelier sister (in every way) rose too, a radiant light emanating from her. The entire town turned their view to hear, gazing with admiration and affection. Shava's voice rang out clear and true to the farthest corners of the hamlet, "The Victors of Shadowfell Keep!"
"The Victors of Shadowfell Keep!" the town shouted back and the adventurers smiled in return. Gilic now rose from his chair, his head just peaking over the well-laden table. He swayed back and forth unsteadily, his eyes glazed over in intoxicated glee. Dumping over his goblet of elven wine, he slurred, "Winterha-hic! I coo keel yoo awl. Hic! Yoo pets. Yoo wee childin. Hic!" He flung his arms wide and screeched, "Everting!!! Hic!" Before the party could intervene, the dwarf stumbled back into his chair and then fell face first into his plate, full of roasted mutton and spiced potatoes. The dwarf began to wheeze out a rumbling, rhythmic snore.
The crowd looked back in mute horror, the rest of the party chuckling politely. It was Lord Padreg's turn to clear his throat, once again taking center stage to continue his homage to the party. Soon, the celebration turned to music and dancing. Amid the revelry, Queequeg called for the melodius sounds of Taegahn's dulcet harp. Through gritted teeth, Taegahn angrily plucked sweet strings while Queequeg barked out a dragonborn song that had the crowd looking at each other uncomfortably and clapping politely and off-beat.
Not long after, Gilic awoke and rose again, a chunk of mutton snugly stuck in his beard. "Deed ah eva tell yoo da tale of my turd wife? Hic!"Sha had da booshiest tail yoo eva seen and afta I shod her, she rode like da wind. Hic! Sweet ridin' in da day, even sweeter riden' in da night, sha was da enva of the parish, dat one." Five adventurers swarmed Gilic before he could say more. Cedric mashed his face back into the plate, full into the potatoes. Gareth meanwhile procured another goblet of elven wine. He handed it to Gilic who once again pulled his head from the plate, mashed potato embedded in his eyebrows. He smiled contentedly as he took the wine, mumbling, "Aye, dats da stuff laddy. Come to daddy sweet nector. Hic!"
The rest of the evening past uneventfully and in the morning, the party assembled and then headed out of Winterhaven. The morning crowd lined the narrow streets, blowing kisses and shouting cheers of thanks. The Victors of Shadowfell Keep said their final goodbyes and then hit the road southeast towards Arabel.
That night, a pack of dire wolves and worgs attacked the party's encampment. Queegqueg and Orchid sounded the alarm. The battle was pitched. Queequeg nearly sucumbed to horrible bite wounds. If not for Shava's healing prowess, and his own inate ability to mend wounds, he surely would have died. VoSfK ultimately prevailed, slaying two of the dire wolves, one of the worgs, and sending the rest yiping into the dark of night.
To Be Continued
Phat Lewts:
Epic hangovers
Lines(s) of the Night:
"We're a team!" - Sean to Blake after the dynamic duo tag-teamed a ferious drake.
"We are not a team" - Blake's immediate response to Sean.
"Apparantly we're not a team, so I killed it." Sean, clarifying the bragging rights for said slain drake.
Rule(s) Clarification of the Night:
Megan teaching Craig the finer points of charging.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
When Hurricanes Attack!
Session Summary:
Session cancelled due to Hurricane Ike.
Line(s) of the Night:
"Aaahhhhhhhhhh!" - City of Houston residents as Ike descended.
Session cancelled due to Hurricane Ike.
Line(s) of the Night:
"Aaahhhhhhhhhh!" - City of Houston residents as Ike descended.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Shadowfell Keep, Epic Battle II
Summary:
The party peered down the dark pit. The alter resumed spewing forth viscous blood, rivers streaming down the sides of the dark shrine and weaving across the room until finally draining into the square blackness. Taegahn dropped a sunrod into the pit. It briefly flashed a pool of blood before plopping ominously and sinking. Darkness crept back.
With no obvious way down to the lower level of the blood pool, the party conferred and agreed to backtrack. Double doors, barred with a sign "Closed," still remained unexplored. Queequeg ripped the sign off and Orchid and Taegahn carefully opened the door. A long passage, splitting left and right and the far end. Taegahn crept left, Orchid right. Seconds later, Taegahn reappeared, backtracking quickly. Something seemed to shimmer in his wake and when Taeghan loosed an arrow, it seemed to stick to something in midair. Queequeg barked an order to move and Gilic charged forth, close behind. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, hacking and slashing at the gelatinous cube. Shava commanded it back and the shambling horror jiggled in place as the rest of the party opened up withering melee and ranged attacks. The romping jello abomination exploded, spewing hot goo all over the surrounding floor, walls, and adventurers.
The party scraped the gelatin off them and finished exploring the two hallways. The left dead-ended, but the right opened into a small room, four sarcophagus in each corner. Queegueg moved towards the closest, gripping the bottom of the ancient stone lid and heaving with all his might. Gareth and Gilic joined him and the lid slowly pried loose and then exploded forth along with the other three unattended lids. The closest of the corruption corpses reached into his stomach cavity and pulled forth writhing intestines, glistening with a foul stench that almost bowled the adventurers over. Grinning hideously, he hurled the guts like a grenade, which exploded with nectroic energy that damaged and paralyzed. The four proved tougher than the zombie minions of previous encounters, but the party eventually prevailed. A door and room behind held a chest ripe with treasure, including a magic amulet that proved best suited for Shava.
The party rested briefly, considering their options. There were no parts of the Keep to explore. Unless they had missed some secret door or passage, the only egress to the bottom level under the bloody alter was the ominous pit.
They backtracked once again. Standing over the pit, Queequeg, Gareth, Gilic, and Taegahn marshaled their resolve and slid down the four-corner chains that descended to the blood pool below. They landed smartly, springing into action the moment their feet touched solid ground. The scene before them mirrored that of the floor above them. A high priest worshipped at an alter to the west, intermingled moans and chants breathing pure oblivion into the chamber and past a portal that pulsed a black soupy energy. The high priest could be none other than Kalarel himself, intently weaving some dark ritual. Glyphs in front of the portal glowed an electric turquoise. The undead formed a triangle that surrounded the party and the blood pool, two in front of the high priest and one far across them. Caught momentarily off-guard, the four charged forth and the battle for Shadowfell Keep began.
Meanwhile, Orchid, Cedric, and Shava attempted to descend the chains. Orchid slid down deftly, but Shava lost her grip early on and fell. Though she landed on her feet by virtue of her new magic amulet, the force of the freefall rippled throughout her frame, sending her staggering in pain. Cedric too fell, landing sideways. Snapping bone marked his arrival as he slowly stood up.
As half the party arrived on the scene ungracefully, the other four tore into the priest and his undead force. The far undead was a deathlock wight. From range, he blasted the party with grave bolts, necrotically charged missile that burned the soul and paralyzed the body. At one point, he stopped his barrage and reanimated a skeleton warrior that had been felled by Gilic's sturdy maul.
Early in the battle Kalarel yelled out a commanding word, teleporting himself and his two closet minions to the middle of the blue-tinged floor glyph. Taegahn wasted no time in pivoting ninety degrees and unloading on him, arrows ripping into the high priest with such force, he was pushed back outside the glyph and directly in front of the portal. Taegahn's satisfied grin went slack as he witnessed the portal's sheer surface ripple across, a bony claw bursting out only to be caressed and stroked by Kalarel. The party split their attention between Kalarel and the emerging undead dragon, Shardrexyl and the dreadlock wight. As Gareth and Gilic felled the two skeleton warriors and closed in on Kalarel, Shardrexyl pushed against the portal binding him in some foreign plane of existence and lashed out at the party. Gareth took the brunt of these attacks, ducking a taloned claw as he lashed out at the taunting high priest. The dreadlock wight proved a distracting opponent and it took precious seconds for Shava, Queequeg, Taegahn, and Cedric to finally fell it.
Out of minions, the party closed in on Kalarel. Every time Shardrexyl lashed out and struck, dark energy seeped back into the high priest, restrengthening him. The adventurers steeled themselves, surrounding Kalarel and reigning blows and fire down upon him. Shardrexyl continued to harry the party, at one point attempting to grab Orchid and Gareth and drag them back to his hellish domain. The two narrowly escaped and returned to battle. Finally, Kalarel teetering from multiple wounds, Queequeg observed the high priest lower his guard for a moment. The dragonborn warlord shouted to Gareth to strike! Gareth reacted from pure instinct, sweeping his great axe full into Kalarel. Shuddering for a split second, Kalarel screamed and then warped into a viscous ooze that matched the surface of the portal. Still in the shape of the man, the ooze seemed to try to move away from the portal, but Shardrexyl's claw suddenly burst once more from the portal and with a clenched fist, snapped the high priest into the portal. The claw receded too and the portal and chamber became eerily quiet.
Kalarel was defeated! Shardrexyl's summoning prevented! The legacy of Jerold Qeegan was restored and the nearby sleepy hamlet of Winterhaven saved!
The party peered down the dark pit. The alter resumed spewing forth viscous blood, rivers streaming down the sides of the dark shrine and weaving across the room until finally draining into the square blackness. Taegahn dropped a sunrod into the pit. It briefly flashed a pool of blood before plopping ominously and sinking. Darkness crept back.
With no obvious way down to the lower level of the blood pool, the party conferred and agreed to backtrack. Double doors, barred with a sign "Closed," still remained unexplored. Queequeg ripped the sign off and Orchid and Taegahn carefully opened the door. A long passage, splitting left and right and the far end. Taegahn crept left, Orchid right. Seconds later, Taegahn reappeared, backtracking quickly. Something seemed to shimmer in his wake and when Taeghan loosed an arrow, it seemed to stick to something in midair. Queequeg barked an order to move and Gilic charged forth, close behind. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, hacking and slashing at the gelatinous cube. Shava commanded it back and the shambling horror jiggled in place as the rest of the party opened up withering melee and ranged attacks. The romping jello abomination exploded, spewing hot goo all over the surrounding floor, walls, and adventurers.
The party scraped the gelatin off them and finished exploring the two hallways. The left dead-ended, but the right opened into a small room, four sarcophagus in each corner. Queegueg moved towards the closest, gripping the bottom of the ancient stone lid and heaving with all his might. Gareth and Gilic joined him and the lid slowly pried loose and then exploded forth along with the other three unattended lids. The closest of the corruption corpses reached into his stomach cavity and pulled forth writhing intestines, glistening with a foul stench that almost bowled the adventurers over. Grinning hideously, he hurled the guts like a grenade, which exploded with nectroic energy that damaged and paralyzed. The four proved tougher than the zombie minions of previous encounters, but the party eventually prevailed. A door and room behind held a chest ripe with treasure, including a magic amulet that proved best suited for Shava.
The party rested briefly, considering their options. There were no parts of the Keep to explore. Unless they had missed some secret door or passage, the only egress to the bottom level under the bloody alter was the ominous pit.
They backtracked once again. Standing over the pit, Queequeg, Gareth, Gilic, and Taegahn marshaled their resolve and slid down the four-corner chains that descended to the blood pool below. They landed smartly, springing into action the moment their feet touched solid ground. The scene before them mirrored that of the floor above them. A high priest worshipped at an alter to the west, intermingled moans and chants breathing pure oblivion into the chamber and past a portal that pulsed a black soupy energy. The high priest could be none other than Kalarel himself, intently weaving some dark ritual. Glyphs in front of the portal glowed an electric turquoise. The undead formed a triangle that surrounded the party and the blood pool, two in front of the high priest and one far across them. Caught momentarily off-guard, the four charged forth and the battle for Shadowfell Keep began.
Meanwhile, Orchid, Cedric, and Shava attempted to descend the chains. Orchid slid down deftly, but Shava lost her grip early on and fell. Though she landed on her feet by virtue of her new magic amulet, the force of the freefall rippled throughout her frame, sending her staggering in pain. Cedric too fell, landing sideways. Snapping bone marked his arrival as he slowly stood up.
As half the party arrived on the scene ungracefully, the other four tore into the priest and his undead force. The far undead was a deathlock wight. From range, he blasted the party with grave bolts, necrotically charged missile that burned the soul and paralyzed the body. At one point, he stopped his barrage and reanimated a skeleton warrior that had been felled by Gilic's sturdy maul.
Early in the battle Kalarel yelled out a commanding word, teleporting himself and his two closet minions to the middle of the blue-tinged floor glyph. Taegahn wasted no time in pivoting ninety degrees and unloading on him, arrows ripping into the high priest with such force, he was pushed back outside the glyph and directly in front of the portal. Taegahn's satisfied grin went slack as he witnessed the portal's sheer surface ripple across, a bony claw bursting out only to be caressed and stroked by Kalarel. The party split their attention between Kalarel and the emerging undead dragon, Shardrexyl and the dreadlock wight. As Gareth and Gilic felled the two skeleton warriors and closed in on Kalarel, Shardrexyl pushed against the portal binding him in some foreign plane of existence and lashed out at the party. Gareth took the brunt of these attacks, ducking a taloned claw as he lashed out at the taunting high priest. The dreadlock wight proved a distracting opponent and it took precious seconds for Shava, Queequeg, Taegahn, and Cedric to finally fell it.
Out of minions, the party closed in on Kalarel. Every time Shardrexyl lashed out and struck, dark energy seeped back into the high priest, restrengthening him. The adventurers steeled themselves, surrounding Kalarel and reigning blows and fire down upon him. Shardrexyl continued to harry the party, at one point attempting to grab Orchid and Gareth and drag them back to his hellish domain. The two narrowly escaped and returned to battle. Finally, Kalarel teetering from multiple wounds, Queequeg observed the high priest lower his guard for a moment. The dragonborn warlord shouted to Gareth to strike! Gareth reacted from pure instinct, sweeping his great axe full into Kalarel. Shuddering for a split second, Kalarel screamed and then warped into a viscous ooze that matched the surface of the portal. Still in the shape of the man, the ooze seemed to try to move away from the portal, but Shardrexyl's claw suddenly burst once more from the portal and with a clenched fist, snapped the high priest into the portal. The claw receded too and the portal and chamber became eerily quiet.
Kalarel was defeated! Shardrexyl's summoning prevented! The legacy of Jerold Qeegan was restored and the nearby sleepy hamlet of Winterhaven saved!
TO BE CONTINUED
Phat Lewt:
Amulet of Something Wing - Shava
Dagger +2 - Vendor
Line(s) of the Night:
Phat Lewt:
Amulet of Something Wing - Shava
Dagger +2 - Vendor
Line(s) of the Night:
"These agents of evil are outstanding housekeepers." - Sean, commenting on the cleanliness of a dungeon hallway. "Shhhh. Why the fuck do you think I'm sneaking!" Blake to Sean, as he tries to sneak down the hallway.
"Do you girls need me to assist?" - Pati, watching Queequeg, Gilic, and Gareth struggle to open a sarcophagus lid.
"No man has seen them all . . . and lived to tell the tale." Pati, about the shurkins equipped on her.
"I want a fire-breathing pony." - Sean.
"Girls pet cute things. One day you'll learn." Simon to Sean, referencing Pocket Dragons.
Baked Good of the Night: Megan's Carrot Cake
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