Tuath Dé Danann
Tuath Dé Danann
Tuath was born in a small village in a forest abutting mountains and shares an equal love for both the woods and the hills. He feels a bond with the land and finds comfort in the entropy of nature. He is ill-at-ease in cities and is unimpressed with the trappings of 'civilization.' He is generally distrustful of the motives of humans.
Hunting is as natural as breathing and Tuath looks for every opportunity to meld with the forest, taking particular pride in his ability to move silently through the wood, whether tracking game or just communing with nature and recentering.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Slight of build, but lithe and possessing a presence larger than his frame.
Body Features
Long hair, usually tied back. He has a birthmark but you'll really need to get to know him better to find out what it is.
Facial Features
Generally typical wood elf features, but possesses silver eyes that tell of a Moon Elf ancestry.
Special abilities
Hunting and tracking. Knot tying. Fletching.
Apparel & Accessories
Clothes are mostly in olives, greens, and browns. Leather pants and high boots, Cloak is a somewhat unique leaf-shape, with a deep cowl that he prefers to wear in crowded, public spaces (also, when it rains.)
Tuath takes great pride in his bow, which was crafted by a local artisan. He has modified it to run as silently as possible, using moleskin at the tips to deaden string slap against the bow, uses threaded tufts of wool on the strings to deaden the usual twang. He uses heavier-than usual arrows, which he fletches himself, to also reduce string twang; while it slightly decreases range, it also slightly improves accuracy and piercing.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
His parents were both druids and his mother was a member of the village counsel. Through her experiences, he developed a desire to protect the peoples living in and around the forest, but also a desire to slow advancement of human expansion that he views as a threat. He recognizes the internal conflict of protecting the human settlers on the fringes of the wild lands while distrusting the motives of the political forces that drive that expansion.
Tuath rather infamously ran off collectors working for the nobility in a nearby town. That made him something of a folk hero to the locals, but definitely created tension between the town and the collection of elfin villages in the area -- and created open hostility between Tuath and the nobility.
He grew up in the woods and mountains, and that is definitely a place of comfort for him, but he appreciates the connection to the land whether it is forest, wetlands, desert, or plains. He has a natural desire to explore but very much prefers the shadows to the spotlight.
His older sister is far more grounded than he, and where he prefers to roam, she prefers to sit still in one place and meditate. Secretly, they both admire the opposite qualities in each other.
Education
With two druid parents, Tuath has a natural appreciation for the communion between elves and nature, and a deep understanding of the history of his people. While he would eschew the role, his mother's role as village counsel also gave him insight into working as a collective. His father was more of a poet and musician -- while his father might have preferred less time in the forest, Tuath is nevertheless well versed in history and poetry.
Employment
Tuath worked with his family who did a little farming and beekeeping, but began making his name for both hunting and leatherworking before setting off for broader adventures.
Mental Trauma
Orc raids during his childhood robbed him of one of his best friends and while a generally compassionate person, has an abiding deep enmity that he resents still lingers with him. He doesn't want to talk about it.
Intellectual Characteristics
Naturally curious with a deep desire to explore and understand the world.
Morality & Philosophy
Diety and nature are pretty much all one and the same to Tuath. Whether nature is a manifestation of the deity, or whether the deity is a manifestation of nature is immaterial as they are intracately connected.
Believes to each his own, but also has a compulsion to help if it is needed and warranted.
Taboos
Misuse/abuse of nature
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Protection of the natural world, and protection of those who live in it. Noting that those can come into conflict with each other. Strong desire to explore, but an equally strong desire to remain hidden. Generally intent to help others, but also to leave them to their own devices.
Personality Quirks
Tendency to want to employ Mask of the Wild. All the time. Partly consciously, as practice, but also subconsciously, as a habit.
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral (G)
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
Silver
Hair
Long, light brown
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Copper
Height
6'
Weight
159
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Of the Search for Things that Burn, and the Search for Things to Burn
OK, so when we last left off, we had just (barely) defeated one of those nasty frost-breathing, never-dying trolls. As we stood about in our various states of disarray and damage, we poked around for a bit and decided the Way To Stay Alive was to get another full rest and come back to (hopefully) clear out the place and (also hopefully but increasingly unlikely as time passes) find the rescue party that was sent to rescue us. (Oh hey; did I mention that they were *given a map* to find Axeholm? Not that that will hinder my desire to rescue them, but just wanted to say Fuck Wester.)
Anyway, we chose life, and went back upstairs to both do a more thorough search and to heal up/spell up again as a party. Ostensibly, our search upstairs was to find flammable stuff to throw at any remaining trolls, of which we were certain there was at least one. It wasn't a thorough sweep, but we did find stuff to light on fire as well as a very odd eagle that came to life and attacked us in the bric-a-brac room. (Note to self: remind Oz that Hooty may come to life and peck out his eyes while he sleeps.) Baric checked for magic, and found a fair amount of residue, but did note that the leather bag we picked up from Cuthulu glowed brightly under his spell.
The dwarven chick upstairs remained as unhelpful as ever, though we did feed and water her, and brought her up a mattress and a blanket. She let us know the trolls were her friends, and Baric wanted to start an inquisition on the spot but we left her tied up and gagged again. If we live, we'll come back for her and deal with that later. She *may* be hostage material if we get to that point with whoever has the un-rescue party. But I find it way more likely our primary negotiation tactic will be to kill all the bastards. It's worth noting that I had another black-out period again -- thank god, not in battle. But I've definitely got to do something about this. Soon.
At any rate, rested and loaded down with Things That Burn, we made our way back into the tunnel system to go explore the great cavern with the statues -- and hopefully find some clues as to the whereabouts of the missing party. We never made it that far. The dwarves up front set off a Monster Summoning Spell again, and those weird eyeless creatures began to swarm out of the tunnels in front of us.
Dash and Oz made a smart tactical move by falling back into the big cave, where we could set up something of a kill zone. Shortly thereafter, a Frost Troll made its appearance and did it's thing with breath damage. Murland and I -- and probably Baric -- need to be more purposeful about staying out of range. I was lucky to not be in the cone this time, but Murland went down and we began the "if you feed the magician a berry" routine. I managed to shove one in his mouth while I backed up and proceeded to shoot from a distance > the frost breath. The little critters kept pouring out and I was able to cast Spike Growth for the first time, and at first blush I would say it is pretty damn effective at crowd control.
Everybody did their thing: Oz and Dash were our bulwark up front, taking and dealing damage, Murland was busy casting fire at the troll, and Baric was alternately healing and taking magical swipes at the various critters. We are getting more efficient, and between Murland and torches, we managed to put the thing down for good. Damn good idea of Dash's to create additional torches with some oily rags and various furniture legs that we busted up upstairs. I *think* we are going to be capable of another encounter, and hope we can press on from here.
Meanwhile, this is the first we have seen of the eyeless creatures, and I think it augurs well for us: perhaps we are, indeed, getting close to finding the erstwhile rescue party.
Of Long Rests That Really Aren't All That Restful
We resume our chronicles after another near-death experience with Things that Don't Die, wherein we had no option but to retreat and rest to heal and regain our spells. We decided the best space would be in the observatory, which was protected by stairs and a door, and the space appeared to have been undisturbed for several months. Seemed a pretty safe, ideal spot.
Which shows what we know.
On our last watch, a troll decided to make a visit -- which overall went as badly as expected, except this one also had a freezing breath area attack, which just about knocked the party flat before combat even began. Murland went down, I was at half heath, and things looked like death again.
I played the role of healer, popping a goodberry into Murland's mouth so that he could fire off a spell before getting laid flat again. Rinse and repeat. At any rate, after knocking it out for like the 100th time (approximate numbers), we decided to toss it into the magic ring to let the tentacles hold it in place. None of us thought about the possibility of summoning another air elemental, which, obviously, is exactly what happened. We did finally manage to crisp the troll, (noting that it was a 50/50 situation on whether Murland blew up the troll or blew up the party) and then turned our attention to the air elemental. (Which, it is worth noting, sent Dash flying -- a neat trick aside from the wall that interrupted his flight.)
So after our long rest, we ended up in just about an only-slightly better place we were before the long rest. Whether out of frustration or foolishness, we decided we would push on, because how many unkillable trolls could there be? (Also worth noting: the dwarf lady was no longer tied up. I'm going to have to give knot lessons to the party; if she could slip her bonds while unconscious, somebody didn't do their job.)
Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted movement outside, and we snubbed the torches while Oz and I went to look out the window from the bird room. Hard to tell how many humanoids there were, but there was definitely traffic, with at least one holding a torch. I was for scaling out the window and engaging them directly. Others were for pushing down the stairs to potentially challenge them in a room below, while a third faction thought we should call down to them and maintain the advantage of higher ground. A committee was formed, and rules of order were established. We had barely begun our SWAT analysis when somebody pointed out we were moving too quickly towards tactics and really what we needed was to start with our vision of what we want to accomplish. This was hotly debated, with one side indicating that our goal was to simply rescue Murland's original party, and another faction claiming that perhaps some people in the party didn't understand what our mission and vision meant, and how the rescue fit into those values. We broke off, where everyone went to write down what our vision meant for them, along with an aspirational statement of success, when we noticed that the party outside had long gone.
So, for better or worse, we pushed on, discovering right away a tentacled pit with fleshy roots and fungus and slime all about. (The affinity to which, btw, was possible explanation for another dark spell for me after battle; whatever Baric did, didn't, and I need to get to the source of this and root it out.) It was another hotly contested battle, and while the party sustained significant damage, it was a confidence booster to find that we can overcome a monster that doesn't regenerate, and therefore we pushed on.
Dear reader, I know you know what was coming next. And I'm sure those of you reading at home were all like, "Don't go in that room!" But that's exactly what we did, and -- as I am sure you predicted at home -- ran into another mouth-breathing troll. You can save your "I told you so's" assuming we ever make it out alive. After sustaining stunning area damage before even getting our first shots off, we waged battle in what I genuinely thought would be our last. We fought like it, and the last few spells and a dwindling supply of torches finally managed to bring the fucker down, with several of us clinging pretty tenuously to life.
Time for a long rest. Which, I am sure, will likely be as futile as our last one.
Final note: we did get some reward for our efforts:
100 cp, 80 sp, 30 gp, a 180-gp gem, as well as some quartz, 55 gp, and a leather sack from the first troll. Again: we will make a more thorough sweep when all is said and done. Assuming we actually make it out alive.
Of Breaking and Entering, Obstinate Dwarves, Fighting Outside Our Element, and Pillow Fights with Critters that Don't Die.
We began our journey with an argument over the case of the missing chest. (Which may be magical, because despite leaving it locked up in the secret room, and taking care to lock up the keep, it apparently followed us here.) So be it, we stashed it carefully among the Berowl nest remains and will come back for it there, then haul it back to Axeholm on our return.
We carefully scouted the shelf, and found that the ice door under the cornice was beyond my ability to pick. We chose as our second option to break in through the lower of the two windows. Oz climbed up and scouted a female dwarf and some birds. We decided the best course of action was direct -- Oz and Dash climbed in tandem, Oz jumping through the window first. Dash was going to let down some rope for the rest of us, but I got impatient and just made the climb directly. I could hear Oz talking with the dwarf, but by the time I got in the window, the two of them seemed to be entwined in some dwarven mating ritual. Dash tied her hands, which may or may not have been part of the ritual.
Despite her protestations (which, you know, I get: we did just break into her home and tackled her to the ground), we did our best to reason with her, and let her know we just wanted to find our friends who had been kidnapped. Turns out, obstinance is a dwarven trait that extends to the women of the race as well. We did get a couple pieces of information from her, including the name of the keep (Emberfall) and the name of the erstwhile owner, Embric. Neither name meant a damn thing to any of us. The bird lady was otherwise eminently unhelpful, and started making some vague threats. I knocked her unconscious, and we tied/gagged her.
Upstairs, we found an observatory in some disrepair, and Baric found some magical trigger that both sent tentacles up through the floor to hold him in place, and summoned an Air Elemental. Fun! We each did our thing (noting that Baric's thing still seems to be to wander in front of the party and take a bunch of damage) and eventually brought down the elemental. I watched the stairs as Murland rummaged through the desk, finding some pretty interesting paperwork on tracking shooting stars -- including locations in which some of those stars hit the earth. Given the disuse of the area, we decided to haul the bird lady upstairs to keep her both out of danger and to keep anyone else in the keep from finding her.
We started a quick search of the place, first finding a kitchen with a pot hanging over a fire. Not wanting the food to scorch, I swung the pot out of the fire... summoning a fire elemental in the process. (I guess the dwarves were tired of summoning all the bad guys.) We eventually bested the Soup Elemental, including a pretty cool move from Murland, squirting the thing with water from his water skin. Oh, also, I stuck an arrow in the back of Oz, but fortunately, the arrow was unharmed and I was able to rescue it.
We did quick scans through several other rooms -- figuring our first priority was to rescue the rescue party, and we can come back after to conduct a more thorough search later -- finding rooms filled with various oddities, including a stuffed owl, a chamber pot, a bunch of feathers, a feather bed, and a holy symbol.
As we turned into the open room, we found some odd creature with tentacles coming off its face and things stapled to its skin. Turns out, it was related to the stone trolls we met yesterday (was it only yesterday!) that nearly killed the party. I will confess to some PTSD. As before, we were able to damage it into unconsciousness, but it just kept popping back up and whacking at Oz, Dash, and Baric, who found himself at the front of the battle again. And, as before, fire seemed to be the key to making it stay dead. Torches came out, and Murland was firing off his fire spells. I sprinted out to grab some fire from the kitchen, and to grab something inflammable to engulf the monster in flames.
When I returned, things were in some degree of chaos: Murland apparently lost a spell, Baric was up front taking damage, and Oz and Dash were taking turns kocking/getting knocked with the monster. I cast the feather blanket over the prone monster, and cast the coals and burning bits I could find to get the thing smoldering, crying,
"Time to say goodnight, troll!" and then,
"No, wait: I mean, 'You're going Down!'" and then,
"No, wait: I mean, 'I got you covered, guys!'"
Listen, it was the heat of the moment and I really felt it needed a catchy phrase and I got excited.
I took my usual position near Murland and was firing off arrows to drop the monster and give the folks up front the chance to light the feather bed on fire. But if you want something done right, sometimes you've got to do it yourself, and I ended up striding up, grabbing a couple of torches to light the thing, and stepped back to my usual position. In the end, the thing finally died. And, as is the usual case of the party, we are short on spells, short on health, and in need of a rest. Also, we should talk about our plans on lighting things on fire, and figure out what we need to carry with us to make that happen more efficeintly.
Of Moss Terrors, Monsters with One Body and Two Heads, and Monsters with One Head, but Two Bodies.
They say a rolling stone gathers no moss. Don't believe that shit. These mossy rock trolls rolled over us like, well, like two giant boulders.
All through the battle, I kept thinking about Baric's eagerness to explore up here. "Let's go check out that crack in the cliff!" Baric said. "It looks interesting," Baric said. "Seriously, guys, I wonder what's over by that cleft," Baric said. "Maybe it's a chasm that will give us access to hike up the hill!" Baric said.
Listen, I love his enthusiasm, but I need to be more wary about getting sucked up into his whirlwind of excitement. At any rate, here we were, and we stared death in the eyes yet again. Eventually, we found that the trick to killing these creatures was a) keep killing them, and b) burn them to ashes. Which, by the grace of the gods, we did. Also, damn: Murland, who previously has seemed more likely to inflict self-harm than damage the enemies, all of a sudden dropped some pretty impressive bombs of fire and was absolutely critical to our survival. This both significantly upped my estimation of his ability to do damage, but also upped my fear that now he could *really* hurt himself with one of these spells. I'm not saying anything to Baric or Oz, but I may have found another reason not to be in the thick of battle when one of those spells goes off. I am definitely not secretly hoping to see some singed beards. Because that would be mean.
At any rate, we all took a long pause to assess our relative sorry state and do some soul-searching as to whether we are strong enough to be out here. I took the time to commune with nature and meditate a little, and I feel like during that time I came to some sort of epiphany; when I came out of my trance, I felt I understood the universe just a little better. I felt sharper, stronger. And I felt the power of nature flow through me a little freer, and I am looking forward to channeling these forces with some new spells. The team all felt better, so apparently it wasn't just me. Maybe almost dying is good for you? That sounds crazy as shit, but there seems to be evidence to support this theory. What a world. Baric found a new blessing to cast on me, as well as the dwarves whose necks were itchy still after the were-creature bites. I felt appropriately tingly and am hoping that he was able to lift the curse I have been under. Baric, for all his unwarranted enthusiasm, is a good guy. Hell, the whole party is, all our obvious flaws notwithstanding.
Despite our newfound strength, we moved warily into the troll cave to explore. Inside, we found the usual troll-stuff. Some bones, rotten food, broken things, and a stench that filled the nostrils. This seems to be a thing for monsters: stench. Also, dwarves. We also found some solid birch sticks (the purpose of which we never bothered to figure out), 3 fox pelts (yes please!), 60 pretty stones of dubious value, and one large orange-y stone, almost the color of flesh. Nothing tested for magic, btw.
We decided to rest in the cave, figuring anything in the area would know to stay out of the way and should provide us a fairly event-free knight. Which shows what we know. Some bellowing, two-headed monster came barreling at us out of the dark of night. Oz, on watch, pulled a Tuath maneuver and turned tail and ran to the protection of the party, shouting something about a horrible heffalump. I have never been more proud of him. Once near the party, he turned to face the oncoming beast as the party started shooting at it from a distance (oh, it's ok when they do it...). After firing off a crossbow bolt, Dash moved up to engage it directly, and despite the blazing speed of the thing, it barely had time to get one swing in on us before we cut it down. We were all appropriately impressed with ourselves. (Don't get cocky, kid.)
In the morning, we set off to the camp again. As I scouted, I found no trace of recent humanoid activity, so we decided to head back to a climbing route in a lower part of the wall that we espied on the way. The two dwarves, at home on the rock, ascended the wall with great skill, and tossed down a rope to help pull the rest of the party up. We ended up in a wide, forested shelf, with another wall on the far side that continued up the mountain. I carefully scouted the area. It was gorgeous. To the south lay a large grotto or alcove, while to the north, there was an ice shelf along the wall, with a large ice cornice overhanging the cliff above. There also looked to be a space at the south terminus to the tongue of ice, which might be some sort of opening to a lake, or perhaps another ice shelf. In between, along the west face of the cliff, several windows could be seen. We decided to explore south first.
I snuck in to see if I could scout more of the grotto, and spied a strange creature at the far end. It was sort of bearish, and it was also sort of owlish. (I think they call them Berowls, and I am definitely taking some interesting bits to add to my collection to bring to Attabrah to figure out what cool things we can make out of them.) The party decided we didn't want a potential threat at our back, and decided we were going to press in en force and clear the area. Baric pulled an Oz maneuver and ran bravely ahead, shouting in that sing-songy voice he uses when he's excited, "I'm invincible, I'm invincible!" (He wasn't.) But the party rallied and managed to put a quick end to two of the creatures that were in the natural alcove. (As an aside, I don't think I ever really recognized how bite-y monsters are. Rude.)
Nevertheless, we were able to dispatch them without experiencing that absolute pit-of-the-stomach "we're all going to die!" fear, which had sort of become our thing for a stretch. It was a good feeling, and you know, fuck it, maybe Baric was right, and I let myself feel just that little bit invincible as well, even though I knew it was a fleeting moment.
We searched the area, and found several interesting things the Berowls had collected in their nests, including 3 gemstones, about 400 sp, and a really gorgeous silver wand with a bird claw carved in the end. We also found a small, heavy, ornate chest. I deftly noodled the lock open to find... basically dust, or metal filings, or some such thing. Dash and I stirred around to see if the stuff was covering something else up, but it appeared it was otherwise empty of interesting bits. A bit anti-climactic, but when we have time we can explore it more. Somebody filled it for a reason, and felt it was important enough to lock in a really nice chest so time will tell what its worth or value might be. Baric scanned for magic, and unfortunately everything came up zeros, with just the faintest aura of previous magic on the wand. I was really hoping the wand was going to be a nice artifact for Murland, which I thought might help focus his tendency to blast large areas that often include him. Maybe we tell him that's what it is just as a confidence booster?
Speaking of artifacts, Dash didn't seem to think those gloves we found did him any good. I tried them on and I felt *way* stronger. I had Dash try them again, and they didn't seem to do anything for him, nor for Oz. Weird. But it was nice of Dash to offer them to me, and they also look badass, so I'm pretty happy to have them. I'm invincible!
We are ready next to explore to the north and see what the story is with all the ice up that way. Am I the only one that is remembering something about a white dragon that leaves icy trails of death in its wake? Nah, I'm sure it's entirely coincidental.
Of Tracking and Human Trafficking and Things That Never Die
We did a final(ish) sweep of Axeholm, finding one more odd item, a tripod that Baric says has some reality-distorting magic about it. During this time I had another dark episode; I blacked out for some period of time. Is there a connection to the magic of the item? A reaction to a spell Baric cast? Or was it just a random moment? I long for answers, but none seem forthcoming. I wonder if I can attempt a spell next time I'm in that space. I'm going to try Hunter's Mark on the pool of ooze and hope that it will increase my perception of it.
We eventually managed to get the party out and lock up the front gates while Oz and I climbed out The Chimney of Everlasting Length, using the petons that Dash had for protection. We coiled up the rope, took good bearings to ensure we could locate this chimney again, and set off to rescue the interlopers sent off by Harbin fucking Wester.
We first examined the dead creatures that were chasing Murland. Nasty, hairless, eyeless creatures. They left a trail easy to follow, which took us down into the valley and up again towards another range of mountains. The trail terminated near a cliff face; I spied a fissure in the wall ahead of us, and noticed as well a faint trail of smoke coming from the right. The trail led us to the right, and we set off in that direction, with me in the lead scouting. We came upon a small encampment, with a fire just gone out, and obvious signs of frequent use. After scoping the place out from a distance, I hid myself in the woods with an eye on the party while they examined the camp, finding little of obvious value, other than a couple of kegs of ale, some of which Dash partook. (Apparently it is a strong ale, or Dash's reputation as a drinker is way overblown, but Baric ended up casting some healing spell on him.) We also found a pile of armor, most notably containing armor previously owned by our quarry.
I examined the tracks in the camp and was able to ascertain that the Solomon gang was led off down the single, well-used track, which ended at the cliff face; seemingly they have some apparatus on top of the cliff that allows for a platform to be lowered and raised. It has to be a big fucking platform, because they apparently haul wagons and horses up the cliff in it.
Having reached an impasse, we set off to the chasm to explore there and see if there is a route that would lead us to the top of the cliff. Baric was really keen to explore it; as you will see, that doesn't speak well to his judgment. As per usual, I took the lead, scouting the way, using my long-practiced Mask of the Wild to be as sneaky as possible. It was not sneaky enough, as I came upon two trolls, who noticed me at the same time I noticed them. I ran back towards the protection of the party, preparing myself to turn and drop these two from a distance, while our tanky friends engaged them in hand-to-hand combat.
It went well overall, though our dwarves seemed a little squishy today. But gradually we were wearing them down, me with my arrows, Baric with his magic sword, Oz and Dash with their various axes and swords and clubs, and Murland trying to distract the enemy through ritualistic self-immolation. At least, that was my best guess as to his intent. Who knows with Mages.
Then it stopped going well. First, Baric fell. Hard. Then Dash. But we also felled the enemy. The difference is the trolls apparently don't stay dead, while humans and dwarves do. After re-killing another troll, I rushed in to grab Baric (who was up in the front of battle, which seems unwise in both hindsight and foresight), dragged him out of battle, and dropped a goodberry in him. He then ran straight back into combat and revived Dash. I put an Ensnaring Strike on the creature that was down, hoping that the continual damage would, well, continually damage it to the point where it would stop reviving. The spell worked beautifully and continued to apply damage. It was not enough damage, however, to keep it from coming back again. And again.
At some point in the fray, someone in the party started yelling at us to burn the creatures to keep them dead. At first, I figured: I'll keep killing them, and let the others burn them where they lay. But even when burned, the beasts kept coming back. Murland did fish out some oil, and rummaged around for some torches, while Dash proceeded to pull out some torches of his own. Dash was struck down again before he could do much with them, but Baric was there to bring him back for a second time. Murland did manage to light one of the trolls on fire without lighting himself on fire, so that was a positive improvement. I ran into the fray and grabbed a few torches laying at Dash's feet, lit them from the flames still flickering on the downed creature, and shoved them into what I hoped would be the most damaging areas of its body. At the moment, it remains down, and the other is just barely standing. I don't have a lot of faith that it will remain down, and the other keeps regenerating.
Oz the untouchable was very touchable today, and while he hasn't fallen yet, he's damn close. I am, once again, deeply concerned about our ability to survive this encounter. I believe I am going to advocate chopping the head off the one on the ground. That seems like it would be hard to come back from. We'll see how that goes.
Addendum: Of Infinite Pools of Living Liquid, Dark Visions, And a Growing Fog of Evil
In the rush of daily violent activity, it is time to take a quick pause to share my increasingly difficult internal battles with darkness. As you all know, when fighting the oozes (oozi?) in the evil Dwarven Temple, one dropped on me in an especially drippy way and not only did I get some of that shit in my eyes, I managed to aspirate some as well. Baric managed to heal my external wounds, and later attempted a ritual to free me from the ensuing symptoms, but I feel the connection to a dark plane growing stronger. I have described the occasional bouts of searing pain followed by gaps in time for which I have no reckoning. You all have seen me during this time so I am confident I'm not doing anything externally, but it may be that I am engaged in battle in some other internal space. It penetrates my consciousness, then recedes back. I cannot say if it recedes because of my attempts to force it away or because it decides to pull back on its own.
I have also previously shared that my nightly meditations -- which roughly equate to what you all would call sleep -- have been troubled over the last month or so. What has changed recently is the increasing clarity of the visions that force themselves on me, which I will now do my best to explain: I find myself looking out over a dark, bubbling, infinite pool of living liquid. There are no landmarks. No trees, no mountains, no buildings, no horizon. Just a dark, misty fog that licks its tongue into every corner of this world and lingers upon the pools of evil that spread in every direction. It is a place devoid of all but the bubbling, dark pool, the malingering mist, and the evil that penetrates all.
The pools harbor intelligence, though maybe not in the way we would typically define it. Its specific intent is undefined; but I know in my bones that it is evil. I have been growing in my ability to reclaim my meditation space from it, but that is countered by the increasing clarity of the visions that haunt me, and a sinking feeling that it is choosing not to battle back for the moment as I learn push it away.
I spoke with Oz, who had the most interaction with Norbus And Dweedle-Dum, to see if there was any connection to the Dwarven temple -- overall the sense is that it is distinct and separate from the ancient Dwarven Evil, but perhaps the slimes reclaimed that space for an even darker, more ancient evil.
I have no outward reason to suspect it is (as yet) looking to claim space in my waking consciousness. I have not felt myself to be changed, nor have I felt any actions I have taken are incongruent with who I am. But should the moment arise where it attempts to penetrate my thoughts and my will while awake, I will alert you all, and you will need to take whatever action you deem fit at that time. At the very least, I will separate myself from the party to seek advice in a city. But should you conclude that it has wrested control over me, and that there is no hope to separate it from me, you will have to dispatch me lest I become an abomination. (Noting that some already find my abominable.) Also, if that occurs, I must remember to tell Baric that my religion forbids the burial of bodies because that would be funny.
Meanwhile, I remain hell-bent upon clearing this stronghold and giving it to a band of dwarves to maintain -- with the only request in return that they safely harbor the townsfolk should the dragon attacks precipitate an evacuation. It would be a quadruple-win:
1) Dwarves return fortress to former glory and reclaim the rights of their heritage
2) The townsfolk have a safe place to which they can retreat
3) The dwarven presence would provide the townsfolk with significant defensive aid, which I suspect they would need
4) Fuck Harbin Wester.
In between now and then we will be clearing the remaining fortress, rescuing the erstwhile rescuers from capture, flying like the wind to meet with Dwarven leaders, and finally collecting payment on this job.
Darkness may blanket my horizon, but there are blue skies above right now and swift action has never been more called for.
Of Saving Humans, Swatting Mosquitos, "I'm not Scared, You're Scared" game with Banshees, and Harbin Fucking Wester
As if things weren't nuts enough -- and they were -- we barely had time to heal up when an explosion rocked the whole underground fortress. We all looked concerned, but I paid special attention to see if the Dwarves had a "that was an odd phenomenon" concerned look or if they had a "this whole place is going to crash down upon our heads" concerned look. I judged they felt it was the former, but it did not salve my unease or lessen the claustrophobia of feeling ALL THAT MOUNTAIN OVER OUR HEADS. But if they think it's fine, I trust them. But man, I prefer the woods and an open sky above me.
Upon examination, we found a crater with a human in it. Not your usual discovery, even in the best of times. Baric hailed it with a friendly "hey, buddy!" but it didn't respond. I was thinking more along the lines of "what the fuck did you just do to the entrance of our stronghold," but given that it was unconscious, I figured I would question it later. The party debated a bit but settled on pinning it in our sights through the arrow slots, and letting Baric do his flashy-light-healy thing.
The human seemed pretty dazed and was incoherent at first. I tried to communicate clearly and directly, which eventually he responded to. (I don't mean to be an asshole, but some members of the party -- ahem, Baric -- are far too trusting. I mean, this dude showed up in an explosion that put a crater in the front entrance (and also, as it turns out later, knocked out our escape route and killed one of our mules) and folks were like, "hey, let's let him in!")
Turns out, this was a party member of the Solomon Gang, sent by -- get this -- Harbin Fucking Wester. I was able to separate my absolute rage at Wester from the current situation, which was probably fortunate for our new friend Murland because I was feeling pretty shoot-y. His party arrived after about two days travel because they were -- get this -- GIVEN A MAP by Harbin Fucking Wester. Which, you know, would have been a pretty handy thing for us to have. Anyway, the rest of the Solomon gang apparently were kidnapped by some faceless creatures and Murland did his best to rescue them in what appears to be a protest suicide bombing. Interesting strategy, but it definitely was a statement.
Upon confirmation of his identity, I was happy to join the others in welcoming him in. But -- and I cannot stress this strongly enough -- fuck Harbin Wester.
After another long rest for the party to recuperate, we decided to set about clearing the rest of the keep, and we have kept Murland in tow. And while he did very nearly die of a mosquito wound, I will say his firebrand thing seemed pretty flashy and paired well with Baric's light shows.
We did run into what appears to be the current owner/resident of the keep: She was a horrible screeching hag named Pam who would arbitrarily lash out and strike fear in any who would oppose her will. I must confess that my heart sank like a stone as I became entangled in cold, dread panic, trapped in an ever-spinning cycle of fear and anxiety as I did my best to ward off the psychic damage. No, wait, that was from another story. In this story, I didn't actually catch her name. At any rate, we found the bones of her previous victims in a stone bowl, but little else. (To be fair, in the other story the bones were never actually discovered.)
In the next room over, we found another cloud of killer mosquitos that did their best to suck the lifeblood out of the party -- they were specifically fond of Murland, it turned out. They came out of a chimney which appears to have access to the outside (yay!). Also of interest, we discovered a secret room behind the chimney that contained a large chest. The chest bore an indentation that looked identical to a ring we found on that first dwarven undead creature that attacked me at the altar. (FWIW, a ring and a dwarven undead creature attacking me at the altar also tracks with the other story.) At any rate, Dash was pleased as punch at finding both a helm and gauntlets that seemed to fit him and I am excited to see him in action in his new tanky outfit.
We are making a fairly quick pass through the place, and there are several areas which I intend to search further, including the smithy, armory, other potential hidden rooms, and, of course, sample bits of the M. O. U. S. We also *really* ought to go search for Solomon, who was likely sent to his death by Harbin Fucking Wester.
Of Undead Hordes and Almost Dead Adventurers
We set about clearing the upper reaches of Axeholm. Our first discovery was that something(s) have dug rough tunnels into the fortress, on either side of the keep. Also, the tunnels reek of death and rotting corpses. Which might have been our first sign. I was unable to assess what sort of tracks the creatures left behind, other than the claw marks were unusually twisty.
We ran into our first set of bitey/scratchy creatures, which turned out to be undead dwarves. Which may solve the larger mystery at hand, which is: What happened hundreds of years ago that brought down Axeholm from its days of glory? We survived the first encounter, with Dash volunteering to take all the damage for us. (Thanks, Dash!) Oz was difficult -- but not impossible -- to hit, and I was in my usual Death From Far Away position. Baric did his usual swingy sword and dolorus bell thing, and healed us back up after the first encounter.
Mostly healed, but out of spells, the party bravely (read: foolishly) let the raging berserker dwarf decide if it was wise to push on, or to safely retreat and rest. He chose, unsurprisingly, to push on. We encountered another lot of the zombie dwarves, but fortunately we did so in a narrow hallway. Oz took the point, and the rest of us moved in to knock off the queue that was forming behind him from a distance. (NB: I didn't hear anyone complain about the dwarf or the cleric doing damage from a distance here, yet I get nothing but shit for the flurry of death I rain down upon our enemies heads. Rotten double-standard hypocrites.)
At this point, cooler heads did prevail, and we turned our attention to the portcullis. After a few false starts, we managed to raise it enough (with a party on either side) to allow us to get past it. I practiced my lock-picking skills (typecast, amiright?) and managed to open the great door that led through the kill zone and allowed us to go out and bring in our pack animals.
Mules in tow, we shut the place down as best we could, lowering and locking the portcullis, re-locking the great door, and shutting all the doors we had opened as we made our way back to the original bunk room to rest up, heal up, and recover spells.
Fresh from our rest and full of hope, we extended our push into Axeholm, stopping at the tunnels to let the dwarves cast their special racial spells of summoning. No-one answered. Yet.
We eventually made it to an obvious temple, and the party spread out to explore. Oz and I were at the dias when one of the nasty creatures took me utterly by surprise and slashed at me from behind the raised altar. I was even more surprised when Undead Santa Dwarves started popping out of the goddamn fireplace. Eight total came rushing at us, (nine including the one behind the altar) and before you could blink we were completely surrounded. These were especially nasty, seemingly much harder to hit, and much more likely to land a blow on us. During our first round of combat, every party member missed. Which, for those of you counting, was a total of seven: 2 misses from Oz, 2 misses from me, 2 misses from Baric (once with the Swooshy Sword and once with the Tinkly Bells), and one miss from Dash.
"Death. We are going to die horrible, nasty deaths. There is no hope and unlikely escape." These were my initial impressions. They were also my second, third, and all following impressions.
Dash went down. Baric went down. Oz was injured and surprisingly not immune to being hit. I was injured. We were in deep trouble. There were six creatures still left. Death, death, death. I plotted out my likely escape, had an Ensnaring Strike spell at the ready, but as long as Oz still stood, I was going to stand with him. Baric and Dash appeared to be badly wounded, but stabilizing. I considered whether I should attempt to disengage and run to shove a goodberry into Baric's mouth, but quickly ruled it out -- I would be an easy target, but more to the point, so would Baric and likely he would be knocked down again before he was able to cast a spell.
Oz and I finally started landing some shots, but they didn't relent with theirs. Each time I felt a glimmer of hope, another blow would land on Oz's head, or on mine. One went down. Then two more. Oz was barely standing. I got another nasty scratchy attack. Then one more went down, and now it was 2 v 2. For the first time since we were rushed I allowed myself the barest glimmer of hope. Another blow to Oz. Another went down, and just one remained, and in full health. Even now I did not count our chances better than 50/50. All it would take is for us to miss (as we had been earlier) and for him to land one solid hit (which they had been earlier) and all would still have been lost. But, through grace or luck or skill, we managed to finish the last standing enemy.
We rushed to Baric and Dash to administer first aid, and all of us had some pretty somber thoughts regarding the state of our party. First order of business: Eat some goodberries, take a quick healing rest, let Baric do his healing flashy light thing, and retreat as stealthily as possible back to the relative safety of the barracks on the second floor to recuperate.
I am hopeful we will find some dwarven armor in here for Dash -- it doesn't seem terribly unlikely, especially if the dwarven keep fell because the residents all turned undead. Perhaps we will even run across an undead dwarf still in its armor. It can't be much stinkier than the living dwarves.
As a final note, I kept having this feeling that we were being watched, or followed, through the keep. But each time I'd turn to see what was there, I could see or hear nothing. But it felt like a friendly presence, and I was thankful for it being there with us. I named our invisible friend Cooper.
Of Scouting and Orcs and Scouting and Bears and Scouting and Giants and Scouting and Hobgoblins and Scouting and Goats and Scouting and Chimneys and Exploring and Spiders
Given the activity we saw of the scouting Hobgoblins when we first approached Axeholm, we decided to hike out a bit, find a protected dell or glen, and do a quick, simple scout of the entrance to Axeholm to assess relative orc activity there before going in. Turns out, that quick reconnaissance errand kept us busy, with Bears, Giants, Hobgoblin Patrols, a party of Orcs, and a giant goat. Clearly I did a poor job of finding a protected area.
We managed to avoid conflict with all but the dozen orcs -- which we dispatched. It felt good to finally let fly the arrows and mow down the orcs, and, at our best, this party is pretty fucking dangerous. This insistence on burying the dead afterwards, however... there's a couple hours of ill-spent labor. Honestly, I wish Baric would just sprinkle them with holy dirt or something, mutter some prayers for their souls and call it good.
Despite failing at a simple reconnaissance, we did, at least, assess that the entrance to the keep seemed unused and away from the orc trails -- which is a relief. Given our inability to stay hidden, we decided to not spend the planned third day scouting and instead re-approached the keep. We searched the area carefully, found nothing, and then spent a few hours banging our heads against a portcullis. Seemingly at an impasse, someone finally noticed that there were chimneys above the keep, so we climbed up to explore. At least the others did. Despite growing up in the mountains, I was the one who slipped off the slope and landed badly. Really badly. Noticing this, the party apparently went off to look at the chimneys for a while before Baric decided to come back and toss me a rope. Fuckers.
Anyway. Two of the chimneys seemed to be wide enough to climb down, while the other two had fallen in and were impassable. We decided to tie off a rope and belay folks down to a room on the second floor. Dash picked up a cool shield in the first room, and as we entered the second room which stands above the portcullis, Ozzie came across some spiders (or vice-versa) and the party was beset by at least six giant arachnids. Dash was definitely dash-y, Ozzie was apparently unfazed by the milky goo, Baric did the holy sword/gong of doom thing, and despite a few misses on my first try, I managed to bury a few arrows and helped fell the spiders despite being stuck to the floor for most of the battle. I collected some spider bits for my growing collection to bring back to Attabrah.
The room featured three giant cauldrons, a couple fireplaces, and floor slots, through which, presumably, one would pour boiling oil on the enemies caught in the kill zone leading to the portcullis. This place is really defensible. Really, really defensible. And it is a terrific location from which one could lead raids against the growing orc hordes. I'm no dwarf -- because I'm taller, smarter, better looking, less smelly, and of a generally finer disposition -- but I am having visions of what it would take to return this dwarven fortress to its previous glory.
Of Reckless Abandon, Reckless Endangerment, and some Very Fine Days in the Forests and Mountains
After clearing the first and second wave of the rat-men, we quickly took stock of our position. Me, down to 13 silvered arrows after recovering a few in the anteroom; Baric, down to a couple of spells, and Dash and Ozzie looking pretty battered. We talked briefly about a safe retreat, a rest, and a return the next day to finish the job.
Cooler heads did not prevail. Dash and Ozzie rushed off into battle again, and quickly found themselves surrounded by 5 more of the rat-men. Dear Reader, I must admit my first thought was how we would manage to beat a safe retreat while pulling a unconscious bloody dwarf out with us, and was running through some dark scenarios about negotiating for the safe return of the (hopefully) alive bodies of the dwarves if things went really badly.
To my great relief (and partial astonishment) we prevailed -- the dwarves were resolute and held their line while bashing at their foes, Baric did his flaming sword/light bombs/gongs of doom/healing thing, and I managed to deal damage from a distance. Which is my favorite way of dealing damage.
We pressed on, feeling somewhat lucky to survive, and thankfully there wasn't one more den of the rat-men. What we *did* find was a handful of dwarves, holed up in a back room that also had an escape to the surface. They were in rough shape; apparently dwarven miners are not good hunters. We fed them, and they more or less confirmed that the number of rat-men we killed roughly matched the number they were aware of, and felt like we would be safe enough exploring the rest of the compound.
They failed to tell us about the GIANT TENTACLE WORM THING, but that's probably a common oversight. It seemed to have some sort of acidic properties to it, and I collected some interesting bits in the vials Attabrah gave me. We directly asked the miners if they wanted to claim the mine and run it themselves but they clearly didn't have a leader among them and none of them really seemed capable of grasping the thought. So be it.
We decided to hoof it quickly back to town to collect DJ and get the reward for clearing the mine, when we ran into... DJ. In company of another party. Who were intent on collecting the reward for this particular quest.
Turns out, Westor sent them to deliver DJ to the mine and collect the reward. The party was led by an affable cleric named Solomon; it was good that he was a decent sort because I was feeling pretty triggery about the whole bullshit affair and I was seeing through a red haze. Neither Harbin nor DJ warned the party about the rat-men or the fact that they were impervious to normal weapons. My opinion of Harbin keeps sinking, and I swear to god I would love to overthrow the whole goddamned classist bullshit system and toss him and the whole Westor cabal to the curb. In the meantime, I guess I'll keep running errands for him and learn more about the conglomerate.
Solomon agreed to split the reward, which was really, really decent of him and I will have to take the time to find him in town and swap some tales over a few drinks. And, to Baric's point, we nominally saved the miners -- and, very likely -- the Solomon party. So, I'll take it, but it doesn't erase my growing distaste for Harbin.
Having closed out the mine, we turned our attention once again to Axeholm and marched through the forests and into the lowlands for several glorious days. The woods felt friendly, and it felt good to just put some miles under our feet. We do our best to avoid the ever-increasing orc trails that defile the land, and to the best of our ability attempt to travel lightly. We leave little trace, find a safe space well off trail to have our cold camp, fletch arrows, cast a goodberry spell, and clean up each morning.
I led the team up a river valley between the peaks, while Ozzie scouted for signs of mountains that might match our notion of what could be considered the Twin Sisters. We scrambled up to a saddle in a ridge where we caught our first glimpse of the Twin Peaks, and Ozzie felt pretty confident in identifying them as such. From there it was a matter of searching for a likely spot for the remains of Axeholm: it would have to have access for a road for trade, but would also have to be tucked into an easily defensible position -- I would imagine beneath a cliff, or at the food of a cirque would be the ideal location. Evidence of water would also be key, making a cirque the most likely scenario.
We climbed up an opposing ridge to get a more open view of the land, and after several days and false starts (avoiding several encounters with giant tigers (which I really would like to hunt if times were different)) we spotted a very promising position. As we neared, we felt increasingly confident that this was Axeholm, but also ran across (and avoided) a group of large orc-like creatures. I was initially for hunting them down: better to face them when we know they are there than to have them come up behind us when we aren't prepared, but in this case, cooler heads *did* prevail and we let them pass.
I am anxious -- in both senses of the term -- to explore the keep.
Of Information, Silver, and Revenge: Changing plans and getting our own back against the bitey creatures
Great news: The inspired decision to silver our weapons proved most effective against the bitey rat creatures. It felt good to do damage that, well, did damage. Today we killed by my count 8 of the foul creatures, and I am loving my new ability to target a second creature with the bow. But I get ahead of myself.
Our adventure to the mine re-re-started in town when we decided we were going to *not* go back to the mine and instead take on the Axeholm adventure. We found some excellent advice in the Miner's Exchange, where Halia was able to give us some positive landmarks to roughly identify the ancient Dwarven stronghold. We also geared up there, and the party bought some mules to serve as pack animals. I am thankful Baric knew what he was doing to strap the saddles and saddle bags to the beasts -- I will do my best to learn so he's not the only one saddled with saddling the mules. So to speak.
Our destination lies to the NNW, along an ancient mountain trail that runs to the pass between the Twin Sisters peaks. Halia was able to give us a rough X on the map that will be a good starting point, and I look forward to the challenge of scouting the trail and discovering the ancient fortress. She offered an apprentice to go along with us, which was exceedingly kind, but the kid didn't look like he would hold up well in a battle and I suspect we will be in for a fight when we get there -- let alone what might befall us along the way. (For what it's worth, I am still planning on entreating the dwarves to claim the fortress for themselves and their kin -- with the understanding that if all goes to hell in town with the dragon (or the orc raids) the townsfolk would still be warmly welcomed, and, as a bonus, would have a cadre of dwarves to help protect them when we are not there. (NB: I would collect our reward for clearing the place before I let Harbin know about the new owners in case he was feeling proprietary about it, it that's how things fell out.))
Anyway. Just as we were about to start off, Baric had a pang of conscience about the likely slaves we abandoned after two humiliating defeats at the hands of the ratmen in the mine. Between the pang of conscience and the sting of previous failure, we decided at the last minute to make that our first priority. The blacksmith actually did a really admirable job of silvering some weapons (20 arrow heads and 2 clubs) and after a day in town, we had our new shiny weapons ready and set off towards the mines.
As is usual, we avoided the obvious orc trails; made cold camp well off the path; unsaddled the mules and hobbled them, brushed them down and gave them some oats; cast a final goodberry spell or two; set our watches; and did our best to erase any tracks of our being there when we left. Also as usual, I acted as scout ahead of the party, and practiced moving silently, and using Mask of the Wild along the way. It's almost a compulsion to find shadows wherever I can. I like to be hidden.
We arrived at the mine early the next morning, and gathered for our attack, hopeful but still unsure of the efficacy of our new weapons. After some careful scouting, I could tell that the mine entrance was occupied, but could not tell by how many or by whom. Baric cast a blessing in the form of flicking water on us; and honestly I feel like it was a genuine difference-maker in the battle: my arrows flew a little truer, and the dwarves were just a little more tough up front. Ozzie full-on sprinted into the entrance, cutting an impressive figure with the silvered club held high and full of dwarven rage. I moved within range and set a mark on the first creature I saw, Baric moved up ahead of me and set a flaming sword of light, and Dash sprinted after Ozzie into the heat of the battle. Angry dwarves are a sight to behold.
The good news: the silvered weapons worked! The bad news: their bites and weapons also still worked! There were some touch-and-go moments in the battle and Dash fell at least once only to be quickly revived by Baric. As we routed the defenses, the remaining two creatures turned to flee; one got past us and the other did not survive his attempt to flee. Dash, living up to his name, full-on sprinted after the one that got away, and the party did a nice job of still sticking together and following Dash's lead through the tunnels.
We dispatched two more creatures in our chase, and I believe we ran about a full circle and are back in the mine entrance where I am quickly updating my journal as a bonus action.
We will need to regroup and decide if we press on or retreat to heal up and regain spells. There were stairs we passed on our chase (which I suspect lead to the mine itself) but I'd like to do a more thorough sweep of the caves up here before committing to the mine, whether that is now or after a rest.
I also want to collect as many spent arrows as I can during our pause; I have 9 arrows of the original 20 silvered arrows, but I'd be a lot more comfortable with a full quiver. I suspect I'll get a good third of the arrows back, but at the very least I will pull the broken shafts to collect the silvered heads to bind to a new shaft. (I may need to do a little digging around to get them, but i think the party is used to seeing me gut creatures so that shouldn't be too alarming for them. The hard ones to find will be the head shots -- cracking open a skull is surprisingly hard work.)
A final note: the strange headaches and occasional troubled meditations at night have been getting more pronounced. I have been shrugging them off for a while, but the last time I had one of my spells I had blurred vision and realized I couldn't really tell how long I had been struggling with it. I shared this with the party because they deserve to know that I may at some point fall prey to the fogginess in a critical moment. Baric cast a special spell of Restoration that I am hoping will cure me of this disease or poison or whatever it is that has been troubling me. I can't tell if it has cured me, but I did feel tingly when he cast the spell and I have not fallen under the pall of weakness since. Plus, I have come to put a great deal of faith in the Cleric of the Blinding Light.
Of Disaster and Running Away for a Second Time: a repeat tale of Best Laid Plans, Damage-Proof Critters, Repeated Failure, and Tucking of Tails
OK, so after our first failed encounter, we decided we'd try a new tactic: The party would all run in, grapple the nasties, and Baric would drop light bombs, magic swords, and death-bells on the critters. Meanwhile, we would try to drag them into the light, to which they seemed averse. For the hot minute it took us to come up with the plan, it seemed bombproof. Plus, Baric was so confident! What could possibly go wrong?
I cast an ensaring strike and tied up the first critter from a distance, which felt way safer than running in and grappling them by hand. Except for the fact that I was in crossbow range and took some significant damage before the party even made it to the cave mouth. Still and all, I'd trade the bolts for being in hand-to-hand range. These things are bitey. And, overall, I thought, a successful start to the "hold them in place" tactic.
Baric moved around his magic sword (cool!) and started hacking successfully at the ensnared beast. So far so good!
As the dwarves moved in, the first fatal flaw (other than hubris) of the plan came to light: the cave entrance was clogged up and really the dwarves couldn't execute the plan as originally laid out. Dash decided to simply throw one over his shoulder and run outside with it. Which was a pretty baller move and gave further hope to the success of our plan. And as the creature got into the sunlight, it started transforming into a human form. Even better! Except, as it turns out, they are damage immune even in human form, and the light didn't seem to do any damage, so those parts of our plan also turned out to be a failure. Dash also started to look a little pin-cushiony as he became the favored target as he ran off with one of the beasts.
Meanwhile, Oz was doing his bit in the cave, where he grappled a beast, who then grabbled him back. It was a lovely slow dance except for the part where his date kept trying to bite him and stab him in the back. I get it: I dated someone like that before as well.
Baric quickly transitioned from being our damage-dealer to our keep-everyone-from-dying-dealer, and despite an early spell, Dash fell to the multiple wounds and crashed in a heap, while the human (but also not a human) thing ran off. I tried again to shoot it but to no obvious effect. These things are unkillable.
Given the quickly-evolving disaster this foray was turning into, Oz beat a successful retreat out of the cave while Baric cast another spell on our tanky friend Dash, and we all beat it out of range. Fortunately, they didn't follow. We ran away for about a quarter mile, caught our breath, applied some bandages, and ran away some more.
Given the nature of the beasts, I was loathe to camp out for the night, knowing we could reach the town in the middle of the night and rest a little easier. Following the trail back was easy work, though the innkeeper didn't seem well-pleased at the timing of our return.
Next day, we had our usual encounter with Wester The Brave, who continued to hide in his house and talk to us through the door. There was some acrimony over the job posting, which we followed to the letter, but didn't get paid for. He did offer to up the price for the job to 150gp. Baric argued for more, but was met with the usual snickering from Wester.
We took the job positing for Axehome, but despite talking to everyone in town, could find zero specifics or directions on how to actually get there. I'm not keen on "lets wander into the mountains, i'm sure we can find this place that nobody has seen for an age" without some better sense of what we are looking for. I'm a damn good ranger, but I can't find a trail to a specific location without some hints. Is it near a pass? Is is under a specific identifiable mountain? Does it face north? South? Is it near an identifiable river? Is it above or below treeline? We know none of these things. "Up yonder" is not specific enough for me to do my job.
Despite the fact that I hate the city, and despite the fact that the city is somewhere between 50 and 1,000 miles away, I don't see a real solid option left to us. We need a library. Or people who Know Things. Failing that, I know my dad is big on lore and history and poetry -- I wonder if he has anything in all his reading that would give us a clue? And if neither of those options work, maybe we go camp out and find that intelligent boar or something? I'm frankly at a loss as to what our next step will look like. And unless we learn more about these beasts that repelled us, it's folly to try to take the mine back. And nobody in town has a clue what they are let alone how to kill them.
In the meantime, I'm gonna go hunt up some dinner for Attabrah, have a chat over some wine, and maybe do some work on the leather. Also, I have a revolution to plan to get this town out from under the thumb of the Wester Conglomerate.
Of babysitting shithead uppity dicks and baffling failure against new Foes: Chapter Seven in the continuing saga of the Ruckus Crew
So our adventure begins and ends with babysitting. After clearing the orcs from the farm, we accompanied the Sheriff back to town. Fonzie is a dick, though I did cajole him into giving us some pointers on riding horses; I found out I can be sore in new and unusual ways after a day on the horse. (We did note that we would have been paid equally if he was dead or alive, and honestly I am absolutely ambivalent on that score. I wouldn't off him, but the number of tears I would have shed to find him dead is zero.)
Upon our return, we discovered the White Dragon returned to wreak more havoc on Attabrah's property; she used the safe room to escape, and I am proud of this party and the work we did to ensure she was secure -- but I grow increasingly concerned about her safety. I am glad a couple of the brave townsfolk have come out to stay with her and offer some degree of added protection.
In town, Harbin and Fonzie did their secret noble handshake and sneered down their noses at us but in the end we got paid and that ameliorated the white hot rage of listening to them snicker at us standing like a bunch of fools on the front porch. To this day, that asshole hasn't even invited us into his house. (Also, I was warmed by the care and compassion they had for all the dead commoners that are increasingly piling around them as they joked around together.) Honestly, were it not for the fact that I have come to care deeply about Attabrah, I'd say fuck this town and fuck Harbin and fuck all the classist pricks that run it and fuck the Wester Conglomerage and their greasy ties to the bankers and thieves that pull their strings. Maybe I need to lead another insurrection. Shit, let's get Baric to lead the town. He'd be good at it. I'll do the rabble-rousing. I'm good at that.
There were two jobs on the board, one to babysit another shithead noble and deliver him to a gold mine, and one to examine and clear out an ancient Dwarven fortress as a potential refuge for the town. We chose both, though Harbin said we should really just do one. We chose babysitting again, but we did take the second job off the board anyway. (Also worth noting, the job that was previously up regarding some Gnomen magic item that might help fight off the dragon is off the board, and apparently he gave that to another group of adventurers. I'd be curious to see how that panned out.)
At any rate, we traded one asshat for another, dropped off Fonzie and took the job to deliver one Don Juan to a local gold mine, where he was going to take over as overseer/slave driver/whatever. He was awfully full of himself and we had to listen to him drone on and on about his grand adventures but when it came time to take action, he crumbled like every other noble we've run into. I'm surprised he didn't tie himself up for them.
We did catch sight of an orc party on our first night out, and as best as I can tell, they have been using this path for the past month or so. I made careful note of its location, and to Baric's point, maybe someday soon we might follow that path and take the fight to them. The next morning, we also found 6 dead orcs on the trail, all apparently frozen to death. Apparently the dragon is indiscriminate in its taste for destruction.
We found the entrance to the mine, and were greeted by a couple of humaniods which clearly were not the party Don Juan was expecting. We argued for a bit about the language of the job and in my mind, we executed to the letter of the job -- "Deliver Asshat To Mine." But it looked like we weren't going to get paid unless we also secured the mine. I am guessing that Harbin knew we'd run into this and is probably why he was laughing at us on the porch. Fucker.
Anyway. After some posturing and non-negotiations, thank the gods Ozzie decided he wasn't having any of this bullshit, and went into one of his deadly blind rages and started hacking at the interlopers in the mine. The party followed suit, and by all appearances, we were hacking and stabbing and shooting with great success. Except for the fact that it was utterly ineffective. One of them simply pulled an arrow I shot through its heart and kept going. Giant gashes the dwarves were dealing started healing themselves. Baric was the only one who was effective with his light magic and a new trick I had not seen before with some magic summoned weapon.
Nevertheless, it was clear we were outmatched and I am guessing if the fight continued, would have been outnumbered. We beat a successful retreat; the beasts were unwilling to come into the light of day, and that probably saved us. Or at least, saved the slower members of the party. As it stands, I think we should double-pace it the fuck out of here and hide our tracks as best we can so we don't get attacked at night. Then we gotta figure out what the hell we can do with these things. If Baric is the only one capable of damage, I'm not convinced we have what it would take to beat them. We've got some thinking to do.
Of Dragons and Dwarves and Destruction: Chapter 6 in the continuing True and Accurate Tales of the Band of Adventurers
Well, the rumors are true. Though we apparently missed it by a day, the fabled White Dragon finally made its appearance, tilting at windmills, but to devastating effect. Through a combination of great good fortune and good luck, Attabrah survived the attack, though just barely. I have grown very fond of her, and have found in her a kindred spirit with whom I very much enjoy her company, her cooking, and her curiosity of all things natural.
She was, fortunately, in a solid(ish) structure when it attacked, and while she didn't bear the brunt of the assault, the crumbling ruins of the third floor of her windmill found thier way downstairs and crushed her. (I don't know what it is about windmills that attracts monsters, but it makes me nervous for her safety.)
We returned to find her in rough but stable condition at the local inn, and our Cleric of the Blinding Light did his magic on her and -- much to her surprise -- healed her wounds and broken bones. She would call it miraculous, though I have increasingly come to expect such miracles from Baric.
She accompanied us back to her place, where we assessed the damage, and our wonder-twin dwarves not only were able to assess the damage and make the needed repairs to shore up the structure, they also worked tirelessly to build her an escape tunnel in case there came a return of the monsters. Baric did a nice job of soliciting some town help, and I did my best to be as helpful as possible, though stonework is out of my kin.
I would say I couldn't say enough nice things about the dwarves at this point of the tale, but as you will soon see, there was reason to celebrate them not just for their construction, but for their destruction as well.
Almost immediately after getting the tunnel and escape hatch finished, a rider came rushing up to us to tell us of an orc attack at Butterscotch Ranch, begging for help -- and with a promise of a sort of inverse dead-or-alive reward for the rescue of the owner (a former Sherriff named Fonzie Calzone.) I don't have the best history with human law, and I confess a little secretly that I would have been just fine with the "we did everything we could but he died" part of the reward.
Nevertheless, we left in great haste to the ranch, all of us hungry in our own way to rain death and destruction on the invading orcs. Oh, and also I guess to rescue another shithead noble. I won't go into details, but I rode a horsey on the way there and I want to do it more. (Also, Ozzie had a surprisingly good way with animals and it made me see him in a light I hadn't considered before.)
Upon our arrival, we found the grounds to be a recent battlefield, with both humans and orcs laying about in their very best death poses. Also, a barn and smithy were charred and crumbled in, though the farm house itself seemed intact.
Baric proposed a direct immediate assault, and while that's not really my style, I genuinely couldn't think of a better plan. And, as it turns out, running in with a couple of absolutely deadly dwarves in front of you was pretty goddamn effective. I was barely able to get an arrow off before each dwarf took down an orc, and the storming of the house pretty much followed that initial assualt.
I was able to find a corner from which to shoot, Baric did his best to balance damage and healing... and the dwarves took down the orcs with a passion and hatred that I share for orcs. At one point, a larger orc came running out with a goddamned halbard, with which he skewered Dash, surely critically, and I worried greatly not just for his survival but for the survival of the party. He staggered around with this giant polearm still stuck in him and, much to my surprise not only stayed alive, but promptly chopped down the nearest orc. I believe that orc was surprised as I was.
Ozzie, meanwhile, ran upstairs in his rage and started letting blood on the second floor, with Dash close behind. Baric and I came up after, and in the close quarters of the hallway, I dropped my bow in favor of the rapier, with which I was actually more effective today than with the bow. I mean, I did fine, you know? But compared to the dwarves? Sheesh. They are deadly little fuckers.
One of the last few orcs managed to grapple Ozzie and in the act, the two of them went tumbling down another set of stairs. Baric and I stayed in our fight upstairs, and managed to stay alive long enough for Dash to come back and help finish the last one. And perhaps just in time -- Baric was looking pretty shaky.
As it turned out, that was the last of them, and after clearing the house, we found Fonzie Calzone tied up in the basement. Untying him seemed the decent thing to do, and as he recovers his wits, I would like to get more details about the attack. And maybe I can talk one of his ranch hands (if any still exist) into some horse lessons.
For the moment, there are bodies to be buried and I will help out with the humans. I wonder if Baric would object to burning the orcs before burying, lest they rot and fester the ground around them.
I look forward to our return to town and I want to talk more with Attabrah about the various monster bits and start making plans to create some armor out of them. I know the dwarves think it's weird, but if we can find a blacksmith who will do the work, I suspect they would both look pretty badass behind an Ankheg shield.
Of Supplieses and Surprises: Chapter 5 in the ongoing True and Accurate account of our band of brothers
For what seemed like a simple milk run, it wasn't a simple milk run. Killed my first Ankheg, which was an interesting creature, though also on the acidic side. Which, so far, seems to be a thing with monsters we run into.
The trip to camp was largely uneventful tho I am obsessed with that boar we saw a few nights back. When we reached our destination, however, things got interesting. The camp was in ruins, and, at first view, deserted. And by deserted, I mean everybody appeared dead, and various out-buildings were in ruins.
After securing the cart and the ox, we made our way into camp, with the dwarves and the cleric exploring the tents, and me staying well hidden but in range in the small spinney of trees just outside of the clearing. As the dwarves stamped about the grounds, a giant burrowing beast unburrowed itself right in front of Baric, who immediately got caught in its jaws and lifted off the ground. I would use the metaphor of a dog with a rag doll, but that probably doesn't do credit to the sudden violence of the situation. Maybe a feral dog with a rag doll.
At any rate, Dash moved in, throwing a couple of hand axes with remarkable precision and clearly damaging the beast. I tried a new spell, Ensnaring Strike, which, it turns out, might not be effective against Very Large Critters, but I still managed to shoot it with an arrow. Ozzie went into Berserker mode, and angrily attacked the earth below his feet, upon which he promptly fell thereafter. The net effect seemed to be he summoned a second Nasty Critter. Meanwhile, the first spit acid, catching both Baric and Dash in its path. Spitting is rude. But, undaunted, Dash moved in and slayed the first critter, while Baric saw the wisdom of attacking from range, backing up and dropping one of his Light Bombs of God. He missed, but it's still a good show. Speaking of missing, I confess to sending a couple of errant arrows myself during the whole battle. One went high, while another bounced harmlessly off the creature's natural armor.
Ozzie, who I strongly suspect was drunk, continued to smash the ground, and may have discovered an ancient dwarven summoning spell, the net effect of which was a third critter appearing out of the ground before him.
Dash the ever-so-brave got bravely smashed into to the ground, as Ozzie seemed to gain some composure and started directing his energy towards the beasts and away from the earth. Baric revived Dash, who had just enough time to gather his wits and be bravely smashed into the ground a second time. I put a finishing arrow in the second creature, and Ozzie started hacking away again at the third. Baric revived Dash once again and this time, he came up swinging. Baric dropped a few more healing spells while the rest of the party dropped the third creature.
We were all shaken -- and just about out of spells for the day. So we did what any band of adventurers would do: we bravely ran away, taking the ox and the cart and a limping, bruised, and cut up party a quarter mile back down river to rest and recuperate for the evening. Someone mumbled something about perhaps confusing the beasts if we ran away some more, but I don't recall who said it.
Dawn broke after an uneasy but uneventful night and we returned to camp for another round of fun. Baric suggested we try the Dwarven Summoning Spell to see if any more Ankheg's were about, but to no avail. After searching the grounds, we entered the building, where another of the beasts burrowed up right through the floor to attack us again. This time, we were prepared -- and, fortunately, it was just a single creature, and we despatched it with relative speed.
Upon entering the back room, we found a cowering, filthy man in the corner, who apparently was hiding in here while the rest of the people were devoured. Turns out, this was Tybor, the half-brother of Harbin. Apparently cowering inside a building is a trait that runs strong in this family. But so is posturing, and he quickly tried to put on airs and took that "I'm a super self-important noble" tone that makes me want to vomit. Or punch them in the mouth. Given that he was cowering in his own shit for a few days while his men got slaughtered didn't really endear me to him, nor did it change my mind about the general moral character of nobles in general. Baric suggested he take a bath in the river. I'd just as soon see him drown, but fuck it, I guess baby sitting shithole nobles is how we get paid.
At any rate, we unloaded the supplies in the back room, and I surreptitiously rifled through the packages to ensure they matched the manifest, which they did. My suspicion that we were transporting something of a secret or dangerous nature apparently were unfounded. But again, we're dealing with nobles, so I have fair reason to be suspicious.
The party gathered up the bits and pieces of what appeared to be body parts, or ex-body parts, and helped Baric do his cleric thing. I set about skinning the remaining Ankheg, loading up a decent amount of carapace and other bits that I am anxious to use in a future leatherworking project. Perhaps I could combine the leather from the manticore wings with parts from the Ankheg to create a unique studded leather... I will have to begin working on that. I've also got to scope out the nearest city or town where I can fetch a fair price for the extra parts. I was super thankful that we had an empty cart to haul everything back. I need to touch base with Attabrah to see how she is faring, and to see if she would let me store some of the extra bits I managed to bring back. I'd also like to see if she has any specific requests for various animal/monster bits for her alchemy crafts.
Meanwhile, I saw no sign of the boar on our return path. Following the ox cart tracks was dead simple, and the boar was not more than a day out of town. I'd like to re-explore this area with more purpose in the near future. I also want to explore the source of the scream that Baric and one of the dwarves heard on our march out of town.
Of Dwarves and Orcs and Death and Arrows and Axes: Chapter 4 of The True and Accurate Version of the Continuing Adventures of the Ever-Evolving Party
Finally got the taste of Orc Blood. Not literally, of course. But it has been no secret that I have been longing for vengeance and retribution against these foul creatures and this morning I was finally rewarded with prey. I pinned six of the eight that came at us with arrows, three of which were finishing blows. I long for more, and will entreat the party to scour the hills and woods around us to find where this group came from.
But again, I start in the middle and I will back up to the beginning to capture the entire episode. As you recall, we last left our story with a tale of slimes, and that is where we picked up again. After killing what we thought were all the oozy creatures, we encountered two more, which we were able to dispatch relatively quickly with great good fortune. They still remain my least favorite enemy (so far) and are both unsettling and rather unsatisfying to kill. But kill them we did, and returned back to the front of the evil temple to let Norbin and Bedazzled know we've cleared the temple. For which they appeared grateful.
After brief discussion with the two dwarves, we decided we were going to help desecrate (or bless, depending on your point of view) the temple, and do our best to fill it back in to prevent further evil from taking root here. Of note, we came across a glowing crescent in the main chamber, which I suggested the cleric blast with one of his light spells under the theory that "it can't hurt to try." Shortly after the spell hit, I was stricken with a sudden flash of pain to which I could find no explanation. So, under the theory that "it might hurt to try, but probably only the elf so what the hell" the cleric blasted the spot again, but no-one in the party suffered any ill effects. Odd. Norbin thought that maybe the symbol belonged to the "Faceless Lord," which is a logical conclusion since he also suggested early in our adventures that this was the temple of said evil dwarf god. (We all took it at face value, or at least outwardly did so. I still don't trust him completely and I am still damn curious about how the symbol suddenly appeared, after several days of searching that room carefully. I think there is a deeper mystery here but I will have to meditate on this a little longer. I will make an approximate drawing of the symbol and perhaps see if anyone in town could positively ID it.)
At any rate, after the symbol-blasting, we set about knocking shit over, toppling statues, smashing whatever could be smashed, and pissing on the ruins. It was holy work. The party agreed to help Norbin and Dweezle move a bunch of rocks around to fill in the temple. (This whole chapter could be called "Excavating and then Anti-Excavating an Evil Temple," or perhaps "Let's Dig Up an Evil Temple -- No Wait, Shit! Shit! Bury It! Bury It!") For myself, I took to the woods to see if I could find suitable wood to fashion some new arrows to replace the ones that disintegrated in the slimes we killed while the rest moved rocks.)
The rock-moving and the stick-finding were both moderately successful and we set down for an evening's rest, taking turns on watch. I was last up, and near dawn I could hear a commotion outside, and very quickly it became obvious the commotion was heading towards us. As I raised the alarm, I ran for the shadows in the back, ready to rain death upon whatever enemy came our way. As the group neared, I could make out someone yelling in Dwarvish, and the distinct guttural cry of Orcs in pursuit.
The party reacted perfectly, with Blithe taking a flanking position to my left, and Ozzie and Baric taking a position on either side of the door. Nothing that we didn't want to come into the room was going to do so easily. A panting dwarf came bolting in first. (I'm not an expert in the language, but I believe he was yelling, "Help, help, a horrible heffalump!" My translation may be slightly off but I think that was the jist of it.) He was followed by a rain of orcish javelins, several of which found their home in various party members, myself included. Fortunately, that also meant that the enemy were now well within my range, and I returned fire, hoping to take down as many as I could before they reached the door.
As the initial onslaught came in, the orcs in front were quickly dispatched with a series of arrows, axes, and large sticks (Ozzie still swinging a modified tree branch to surprisingly good effect.) Ozzie became the preferred target, and Baric was right next to him, casting healing spells to keep him going.
Our new dwarfy friend quickly turned and ran back into battle and proved a formidable foe, variously throwing sharp objects and then weilding two weapons, which, when they hit their target, did significant damage. I had to point out the value of using one of the dead orc's battleaxes versus the tree branch to Ozzie, and once he started swinging that around, he was taking out kneecaps left and right.
A particularly large brute of an orc pushed through from behind and in one mighty blow slashed into Baric, who crumpled to the floor in a heap. This was the point at which my bloodlust started to share some space in my head with concern, both for Baric and the party. The two dwarves in front closed ranks at the door, allowing Blithe and I to continue to shoot unabated from a distance.
When the number of orcs standing were less than the number of us standing, my concern shifted from the immediate safety of the party to a fear that the remaining orcs would try to escape and I ran forward to ensure I would be hot on the trail if they did so. (Foolishly, I had forgotten to transfer my Hunters Mark from the first orc, and had they tried to run, I would have had to rely completely on my tracking skills. (Which, I am sure, would have been completely up to the task but nevertheless I kicked myself afterwards when I realized what I had failed to do.))
Fortunately, the last orc chose to die on the small pile of dead orcs we had created and I was able to staunch the would of the cleric, who was able to cast his blessings and quickly regain his feet, mumbling something about "I wasn't sleeping, I was just resting my eyes!"
We paused for a rest and for introductions. Our new dwarfy friend is named Balderdash the Equivocal (I think that's right, but I may have translated the Dwarvish wrong again.) According to his story, it sounds like he went off into the world to find adventure, and adventure found him first. At any rate, despite leading a horde of orcs into our den, he was pretty handy up front and seemed grateful for our help. That said, I wonder what it is about our party that seems to attract random dwarves. I mean, that's weird, right? Is this how all our adventures will go?
Regardless, I want to conduct a quick search of the bodies for anything valuable and anything that would identify who they are, where they came from, and how far they travelled -- were they equipped for long travel or was this an excursion from a nearby den? Were they scouts from a larger group? I fully expect I can track their foul path back to their source and I am keen to do so while the track is fresh. Between my Ranger skills, my life as a hunter, and my natural Mask of the Wild traits, I believe I can safely scout the area ahead of the group and find the source of the orcs. We are not equipped to take on an army or even delve into a den -- but I want to know what we're up against and perhaps help rally an army to combat this threat.
Of Running Away and Running Errands: Chapter Five in the only True and Accurate History of the Band of Adventurers.
Today, I didn't kill anything. Which seems to be an exception these days, which makes me sound a bit of a sociopath. But I'm killing for the greater good, so it's OK, right? So it goes.
We pick up our story after a short rest following an epic battle with the orcs in the Evil Dwarven temple. We looted the bodies, which is foul work with any creature, but especially foul with the stench of Orc blood in one's nostrils. Largely, they held little of value save the cruel greataxes they carried and the pointy sticks they threw at us.
After securing the party, and securing the loot, we made plans to beat a retreat back to town, with Norbus and Tweedledum eagerly asking for safe passage with us. While the cleric set about throwing rocks at the dead orcs, enlisting the help of the rest of the party, I did some quick scouting back up the trail our new dwarfy friend arrived upon to get a sense of where the orcs came from, whether they were a scouting party, or a small group that simply broke off a larger horde.
The path was easy to follow; heavy bootprints and a clumsy disregard for stealth marked the way. The orcs also left an easy trail. I was able to follow the track up-mountain, where I spotted several outpost orcs as well as several dozen orcs beyond them, gathered in what I was assuming was a camp. While tempted to either stealth past the guards to get a better sense of the group, or to shoot an outpost and hide, I felt the greater responsibility was to the party; I knew enough to bring back word of caution and haste, for I fear that this group would overwhelm our party, and fear as well that they are planning a raid that could unwittingly sweep us into its path. Also, at some point, I imagine they will be sending scouts out to look for the missing party members and I'd rather we weren't here when they found them.
I returned with the news as Baric and Norbin were finishing their rituals, and the party gathered up to run away. With me as the scout and Blithe taking the rear to both watch for enemies and do her best to cover the infernal stomping tracks of the dwarves, we beat a careful retreat and avoided danger on our way back to town. We crossed Umbrage Hill as evening was rising on the second day, and stopped in to check on Attabrah Quinn. She was doing famously well, and it was a pleasure to be in her company. We did some small chores around the place such as we could in return for news, good cheer, and great food.
We shared what we learned regarding the looming danger to the north, and my heart was heavy to leave her company was we headed into town the following day. We conducted our business, including meeting up with Harbin The Seldom Seen to get paid for our last job, and to check out the job board for other adventures that might be both interesting and of service to the town.
Two jobs were posted -- the first would take us back north to Gnomenguard, wherein there is rumored to be a magical artifact that Harbin believes might be of use in fighting the dragon, and for which he was willing to exchange 50 gp. The second was delivering milk and eggs to his half-brother for 100gp. We chose the latter; we're not a proud group.
Meanwhile, it is worth noting that Harbin appears to be deathly afraid of a white dragon that nobody has seen, but appeared casually disinterested in the rising horde of orcs just two days north of town. Apparently, the town has been regularly ransacked by the orcs before, and they just keep rebuilding it.
"Everyone said I was daft to build a town so close to the orcs, but I built in all the same, just to show them. It got ransacked. So I built it again. And that one got ransacked. So I built a third. That burned down, fell over, and then got ransacked. But *this* town will stay up!"
The locals seem to understand that Harbin has his oddities, but they seem to follow him just the same. And clearly, there is a connection between Harbin and the local bank. I suspect that when the town gets sacked, Harbin won't be around, and neither will all the gold. I need to dig deeper into the obvious corruption here, but I will need to be careful about it. Clearly, there's some graft, which is to be expected of nobles and human rulers. But the question of why he wouldn't be afraid of the orc horde is a damn mystery. I must find out if he or his family were town leaders when the town was last ransacked.
When it comes down to it, who in the party could I trust to share my suspicions? The dwarves? Not until I know them way better. The cleric? Perhaps I could appeal to his sense of fairness, but he's a noble as well and he knows who butters his bread and who slaves to make the butter. At the moment, the only person I would trust would be Attabrah Quinn. I am anxious to stop back and check on her regardless after this delivery job.
But I digress. We are currently en route to meet some ne'er do well in a logging camp in Winterwood. Tybor, I think his name was. Something about this job seems smarmy, but I can't put my finger on it. I know what was written on the manifest, but I wonder if there isn't something more we are transporting. Or perhaps there is a danger that we are as yet unawares. Or maybe both.
My mind was troubled over all this but at the end of the day, I had a moment of joy as we came across a most remarkable boar. I was prepared to shoot it for dinner, but as I drew back my arrow, I noticed what I can only call a queer look in its eyes. A look of purpose, maybe, or understanding, or wisdom, or maybe even intelligence. It took off, and I instinctively went into hunter mode and gave chase -- not for the kill but for the curiosity of the beast. It eventually stopped near a thicket and turned to face me long enough to drop a quick Hunter's Mark on it to make it easier to track; something I should automatically have done right away.
I tried soothing speech and tossed it the nearest food I had in my pouch to try and calm it, but it turned into the thicket and found some heavy underbrush to conceal itself. At this point, I just played the patience game. I was keen to give chase again, and in any other circumstances I would have eagerly given chase again. But the needs of the party weighed on me and after it was clear the beast was not coming back, or at least not soon, I returned to the group.
I was chastised for my irresponsible behavior and recognize that running off without a lot of warning is not ideal party behavior and I was genuinely sorry about that. Noting that if that boar shows up again, I really, really want to figure out what's it's story is. I will, at the very least, do my best to mark this spot on the map and return to see if I can track it again. I must take a moment to see if I can find any unique characteristics about it's track that would allow me to identify it again.
On Death and Dying and Evil Dwarven Oooze
By my count, I killed four oozes today. One killed me. So, interesting day.
It is well known that orcs are my favorite enemy. (And while there have been rumors of them in the mountains, we have not run across any in our adventures yet.) With that as context, I would say that ooze is *not* my favorite enemy. It *is*, however, my least favorite enemy. Turns out they come in different colors and flavors, but they are still disgusting, and, as it turns out, literally deadly.
But again, I start my story in the middle and I should start at the beginning: the party had a fairly long discussion around our purpose for this mission, and whether we wanted to continue at all, and if so, at what price. This led to a follow-up discussion with Bedazzle and Norbin, the latter of which turns out was the quiet leader all along. He was certainly quiet in our first encounter. And while it took some prodding (and a threat to leave the whole enterprise to these two clowns), they shared what their actual purpose was with the temple (to explore and cleanse it of some ancient evil) and intimated that it was part of a larger growing evil in the world. Which, you know, bodes ill for the world I suppose. They emphatically entreated us to hold that fact in closest confidence, which I will 100% honor. They also offered a pretty sizable gem in return for our services. Which we 100% accepted.
With that new information I am upgrading my initial impression of them from clowns to Religious Zealot Clowns. But maybe at least they are RZCs with a higher purpose, which I could get behind.
We spend an uneventful evening in which nothing happened but we all woke with the strange surety that some future evening is guaranteed to be eventful in a bad way. Weird. In the morning, we spent some time resting. Blithe went hunting for replacement pipes for the Wailing Octopus she carries around, I searched for suitable straight wood to fashion arrows (I was able to put only one together), Ozzie practiced holding a shield above his head, and Baric went trotting about with dwarf skulls to bury and bless.
We returned to the temple and ran into more ooze/slime/jelly/whatever nasty creatures. Largely, their major damage heretofore was to our weapons, though Ozzie probably might take exception to that statement, because as it turns out, they are Actually Dangerous. But more on that later.
I apparently have some latent skill at picking locks, and had great luck at figuring out the mechanisms behind the locks that allowed us to open the secret doors more elegantly than with clubs and pickaxes. I found the puzzle-solving aspect of lock picking to be greatly satisfying and I am going to have to see about getting some more formal training in this skill at some point in the future.
In that category, we found and opened a secret compartment in a column that contained a lockbox with 15 gemstones, which was under about an equal amount of dwarf skulls that came falling out of the compartment when opened, bouncing about on the floor around us. Which is a startling thing to have rolling about your feet, for those uninitiated to the experience.
I am starting to like each of my companions and cannot say enough how thankful I am for our resolute dwarf in front, who is bearing the brunt of the first attacks. He's a brick, despite the girlish shriek of surprise he gave out when one of those things dropped on his head. I considered teasing him about it, but I think there is probably a time and place for that, and it will be over beers together when we retell our tales, and not in the middle of an adventure. Perhaps someday I will compose the Tale of the Shrieking Dwarf. But he will be the hero of the tale.
But, dear reader, you might forgive the shriek if you had one land on your head. Truth be told, I might have shrieked myself when one landed on my head, had it not knocked me unconscious. (Noting I was grievously struck by another one just prior.)
At this point in the tale, attention turns to our second hero, the Priest of the Blinding Lights. Our cleric was dropping light-bombs left and right, to seemingly great effect against the slimes. He has also kept our dwarven friend going with occasional heals. But I owe him a great debt of gratitude after he healed what would have otherwise been a mortal wound. I may make a small donation to his church -- I think that might make him happy.
Blithe and I are both Rangers, but definitely cut from different cloth. But I think we are working really well in partnership in flanking from behind and dealing out damage from a distance, which is the best place from which to deal out damage. (Except for that one time when I turned a corner so I could see what was attacking Ozzie and got killed. (I know, I know, my place is not in front. (But to be fair, this was the first time we were attacked by three together. (And apparently the two new ones that jumped me had a fancy for elves. (Speaking on behalf of my people, elves do not share that fancy with them.)))))
That one case aside, Blithe and I did arrange a pretty workable solution that allowed us both to reasonably shoot down the same hallway. Noting that that solution also looked like an arrow that accidentally stuck the dwarf in the foot. At least she says it was accidental. It was probably accidental.
Anyway, I can't wait until we get to work together in Not-A-Narrow-Hallway and rain a hail of arrows upon the heads of our distant enemies.
Anyway, I guess near-death experiences makes one think about what one is thankful for. Today I am thankful for my compadres.
OF Dwarves and Underground Evil Temples and Slimes
Killed my first slime. It was not a particularly satisfying kill. Maybe more panic and chaos than the usual quiet sneaking and hunting I am used to. Though maybe this is just the tables being turned -- they are doing the sneaking and hunting and, as it turns out, I strongly prefer to be on the other side of that equation. Also, they are sort of gross and, well, slimy. Also, acidic as an angry dwarf's tongue. I felt badly for the damage done to some of the party's weapons. (For the record, I also felt badly for the damage done to some of the party's parts.) I cannot tell if they have intelligence as such (the slimes, not the party members), but they sure as hell have sneaky instinct. If I didn't despise them, I think I might admire them (again, referring to the slimes, not the party members.)
Also new and worth noting: fighting in hallways is harrowing, and also definitely not my preference, though it proved effective. (There was some grumbling about me shooting arrows in a hallway, which I suppose I get? That said, nobody seemed to mind the heavy weapons being swung about in close quarters, which, quite frankly, was way more frightening to me than a well-aimed shot, but what the hell do I know?)
Our dwarf was a champ up in front, btw. Same for the cleric. I was somewhere between impressed and incredulous with our other ranger diving into the fray and -- I swear I am not making this up -- stabbing the fucking thing with her bagpipes. Maybe that's normal? But still worth noting: I think she's capable of literally anything -- there was a look in her eyes that told of a lack of reason and restraint. Dangerous and scary and sort of awesome and definitely not something I would want to be on the wrong side of.
But I get ahead of myself. The trip started with another errand for Harbin the Seldom Seen. He had posted a request to warn some dwarven miners of the potential threat of the White Dragon, and inasmuch as our resolute dwarf Ozzie had just come from the hills, he was the perfect leader to bring us back to the hills. We set out on a North Southwest Northerly path with the Dwarf setting a decent, if noisy, pace. Even noting that he had just come from that direction, I was impressed with the absolute precision with which he brought us to the dwarven mine. I had always heard that dwarves were pretty useless with direction out of doors, and either that is untrue, or Ozzie is an exception. Or maybe we got lucky. Whichever, it was a quiet and pleasant journey and it felt good to be in the woods.
We arrived at the mine (the name of which is "The Mines of the Dwarves" (which, as you'll see later was a seemingly obvious name but also super inaccurate)) and were met by two dwarves, Bedazzle and Norbus. Bedazzle was the most talkative of the two, though I would hardly call him garrulous. Nevertheless, we delivered the message, with Baric handling the business end of things with an aplomb I am coming to expect of him and appreciate.
Meanwhile, apparently Ozzie knew these two clowns and was sent by them (or another party we don't know about) to see Attabra about getting some potions for this lot of dwarves. Inasmuch as that sounded like a previous agreement, I didn't object to his handing a potion over to them. That said, I didn't mention the second potion I had in my pack, which I suspect our party may need more than these dwarves. (Who, by the way, appear to be more casual campers than cave explorers. Literally, there was one room past their indoor campground that they had explored. One. Room. How long have they been there? They hadn't even noticed the secret doors. Of which there were many to find. They are either really stupid or really useless at mining/exploring. Or there's a deeper plot that I haven't uncovered as yet.)
Speaking of which. Apparently when they say "Mines of the Dwarves" really it's more of an "Excavation of the Dwarves," or perhaps even more accurately, "Excavation of an Evil Temple of the Dwarves by the Dwarves," or more accurately still, "Plundering of an Evil Temple of the Dwarves by a Party the Dwarves Aren't Even Willing to Pay to Clear the Fucking Way for Them." That party would be us, dear reader, in case you were wondering.
I thought it would be reasonable to ask for some promise of recompense to clear the temple for them. They thought it would be reasonable to give us fuck all and still have the temerity to ask us to clear it anyway. I feel like we are being given the shaft here (a mining pun!) but the party seemed ready to leap in nevertheless. I don't blame the cleric, who maybe is a little blinded by religion and The Inherent Goodness of People and all that rot, but I was surprised that the other two didn't raise a bigger stink. Especially the dwarf --what I know of Dwarves is that their hearts are guided somewhat by avarice; again, either that's a myth, or Ozzie is an exception to the rule. Or Ozzie is in on the cut with his friends and has a deal with them outside of the party. Which I really don't want to think is true, but it's a goddamn head-scratcher at the moment.
Mines and caves and Secret Evil Underground Dwarven Temples are definitely not my natural habitat, btw, but I think I'm able to transfer some of my sneaking and observation skills to the enterprise. I'm glad I found the trick to opening the secret doors with a lever at least. The "Bash The Stone Door Until It Crumbles" method was mighty but damnably, painfully loud, and not my favorite way of approaching things. If anyone (or thing) wasn't aware we were coming for a visit, I suspect they are now.
All that aside, I think we are forming as a party pretty well, and we seem to be developing a good sense of party order and roles. We're getting better in battles, and assuming we don't get ourselves killed, I like to think that we're going to be a pretty formidable group. And, all misgivings aside, I think I like this sorry, rag-tag, slightly unbalanced lot of folk. It sure the hell is an adventure.
P.S. I must remember to ask the party about the Falcon Hunting Lodge, btw. I can't recall but I thought it was up this way? Near Norwegian Wood or something like that. I can't read whatever I scribbled down and probably I need to be better about paying attention to that sort of detail. Maybe I have the location confused, but if it's close, I'm wondering if it might be wise to just pop in and ask around a bit, let the dust settle in the Evil Temple, let the dwarves mumble over their dwindling food and fight their own goddamn slime for a bit, and see if maybe they think our services might be worth paying for if/when we come back. At the very least they can pay expenses and damages. We're gonna need a rack of weapons we can dispose of if we keep encountering those fucking slimes.
That said, I think I recall someone saying that the lodge was frequented by nobles, so I may have to watch my back there and maybe go under a different name. I'm pretty far from home, but I don't know what sort of circles that lot runs in, and I'm far from popular with the jackass humans running the town outside our forest. Anyway. Sour grapes and all that, but I've learned to be paranoid for a damn good reason.
Taking Umbrage with a Hill
Killed my first manticore. Which almost killed our noble cleric, who, nobly, ran out to attack it, and nobly, took a tail spike to the chest and fell over. The mage was muttering in the bushes and was pretty worthless as far as I can tell, while Blithe and I alternately shot it with our arrows and, ignobly (but perhaps more wisely), ran away for cover for our next shot. A dwarf happened by who threw some sticks at the manticore, which was a nice gesture all things considered. Still not sure I trust him completely, but he threw in with our lot, and, frankly, we could use the extra muscle. And truly, he doesn't seem a bad sort per say; i'm just naturally distrustful. I don't distrust him more than usual, I guess.
When all was said and done, the cleric managed to not quite die, and we did meet up with the quirky herbalist Attabra, who, after being rescued from the manticore (and, admittedly, giving the cleric a potion to get him on his feet), offered to sell us additional potions for... 50gp. Rescues don't pay like they used to.
She elected to not come back to town, but the cleric did secure a note to that effect which we took back to the brave town master, and we got paid, so there's that. We did take the time to do some repairs to her house so she would be that little bit safer, but it wouldn't withstand any real onslaught. Maybe she can throw a potion and some herbs at the next raiding monster. I'm probably being too critical, and in the end, she *did* give us a couple healing potions, which was appreciated. She's close enough to town that I might just sneak over there from time to time to make sure I don't see evidence of anything prowling around the area.
We managed to salvage some bits off the manticore, including a wing which I'd really like to fashion into a cloak for Blithe, time and skill permitting. I've heard that it may hold some properties that would make it more useful than just something to shed water. I want to research that more.
Back in town, the cleric busied himself with various religious recruiting while he healed, and I fletched a couple arrows to replenish the quiver and tended to the hide from the wing so it won't rot. The party is agreed to take on the next job for the town master, which will be a return back to the mining community the dwarf just came from. Of note, there are rumors of orc raids from the mountain in that area, and secretly I am hoping we come upon them when we are in the area. Suppose you gotta be careful what you wish for, but there it is. Also worth noting that Attabra's explanation of why the Manticore ventured this far out of the wild may lend credence to the idea of a dragon in the area. I will be watching the skies.
