tag

The Arvan Game Pt. 36: The Great Escape

What Bers and Vorwulf found behind the door was a narrow passage with an iron door at the other end which was barred on the other side and thus was probably impossible to get through. Along both walls were faded murals probably hundreds of years old lit by the flickering flame-light of black iron braziers. Among the images, representations of ancient Hirok-Nor and the surrounding territories, was a familiar one, a conical mountain surrounded by a moat with a brown dragon above the peak its wings outstretched (see Pt. 32).

Vorwulf: “Aww, let’s get outta here!”

Bers attempted to break down the iron door but was unsuccessful and realized that she was never going to be able to break it down. They activated their Rings of Invisibility and opened the door carefully just before 4 dragon-slayers and a couple of latter-generation trolls found the regenerating remains of the 3-headed troll. Vorwulf and Bers both tossed vials of alchemist’s fire at the regenerating corpse as a “distraction” and ran down a random passage. They ran around dodging running guards both human and troll getting chased down twice by trolls which were able to sniff them out. They were alerted more than once that their trail was being followed by the loud snorts and sniffing sounds made by the trolls at their heels. They found the passage up to the battlements was blocked by about 6 trolls they turned back around hoping to find a passage into the hall and from there into the courtyard. They were successful when they followed a pair of humans heading back out as the trolls and “evil” dragon-slayers were turning their attentions to the courtyard.  Of course once they found themselves in the open they were detected by latter generation trolls and the dragonsauri that one of the dragon-slayers in black dragon-hide armor they had seen earlier at the gate was leading. They immediately were descended upon but as most of the slayers in the courtyard were human and faun they were easily able to avoid sword and spear blows until the slayers got the idea to look for disembodied footprints.

They ran around in circles for a while and then successfully prowled into one of the apartment-like chambers along the walkways lining the outer circumference of the courtyard. The bed-like slab that came out from the wall served to hide Vorwulf below it and Bers ducked under a table. The room was strewn with dirty furs and half empty mugs of cheap ale. In fact a few of the warriors that had been drinking to kill the boredom of waiting were still in there. The adventurers were hoping that the smell of the snoring drunks would mask them from the trolls and dragonsauri. It did as a troll wandered up and stuck its gruesome mug through the unglazed window. After it loudly sniffed the air it mumbled something about “killing ya all in yer sleep”. Bers and Vorwulf let out a collective sigh of relief and were readying to make their escape while waiting for a break in the patrols that were circling the courtyard. After a few hours they realized the dawn was just about to break as the sky began to change color from black night to the pastels of early morning. That was when one of the drunks was awakened by Vorwulf clumsily stumbling on an empty bottle. The man immediately began to yell thinking they were robbing the room but was quickly silenced by Vorwulf’s knife and as the other of the three drunks jumped up Bers chopped him back down and Vorwulf shot the third before he could rise. Two trolls burst in and in the confusion of blindly flailing claws they ran between the large creatures’ legs and into the courtyard using her Cape of Bat-Flight Bers grabbed Vorwulf and they flew up into the air as a troll caught their scent on the breeze and pointed them out and arrows whizzed by them.

They fell to the ground from 10 ft in the air as the sun broke the horizon outside of the walls and they continued to run to the wagon at the bottom of the rise without missing a beat. When they got to the wagon they found it intact and their donkeys were grazing idly. However the shaman and Buck were nowhere to be seen.

Vorwulf: “Too bad they’re on their own, let’s go!”

They got into the wagon and spurred the donkeys heading to the northeast into Lachmor. They continued on through the day knowing they were being pursued only the chaos inside of the ruins gave them the lead. Vorwulf thought to lose their pursuers in Strogo Swamp and they continued until dark only resting for a few hours before continuing on. By morning they were at the far end of Lachmor lake and camped their without a fire and hidden under an outcropping of rock. Here they met a stranger dressed in black robes and a pointed black beard. He seemed to try to grill them with his mouth frozen in a constant amused sneer. Ultimately he left seemingly disappearing into thin air. They ran for two more days finding themselves in the midst of Strogo Swamp and forced to camp at night they had the previous night seen several campfires in the distance behind them. They had dodged a patrol which nearly had the dumb luck of running into them but were fortunate enough to be hidden by high reeds and barely ducked the enemy slayers. Again the stranger in black showed up and this time began to ask them if they were dragon-slayers. Vorwulf lied and told him no but several are pursuing them who are seeking a shadow dragon out here in the swamp. The stranger responded with “interesting” and left the camp seemingly melding into the darkness. It wasn’t long after that they were sighted by a group of the enemy and were forced to flee. Not long after as their pursuers began to converge into a larger group a large black dragon flew over and smashing into their midst form above. Using the distraction the adventurers made their escape wagon and all.

They double-timed it south to the West Road and arrived in Chago after a total of 7 days on the run. They immediately went to the Blackwing guild house and relayed what they knew. A day or so later Grom the shaman showed up tired but perfectly clueless about the other dragon-slayers. He had pursued a Yompgnarl into the woods after sighting it as he desired its blossom. He had stumbled into one while traveling from Hirok-Nor to Chago (should’ve been in Pt. 32 but really came to naught so I didn’t include it there) making a successful Monster Lore skill check on the creature he found he desired the red-fringed orange blossom that grew between its headless shoulders. Vorwulf however was unable to pick up on its trail.

Cris (after Vorwulf made a successful Monster Lore check): “Man! You see the Challenge Rating on that thing!”

Gil (Grom’s player): “Man you guys could take ‘em, c’mon now!”

The Challenge Rating was 14 by the way meaning it’s a fairly tough creature. Grom had lost track of Buck (Buck’s player left the game after only two sessions) and didn’t know where he had lost him.

To Be Continued…

The Arvan Game Pt. 35: The Troll of the North Cliffs

A few days after the party the group of 5 dragon-slayers (Bers, Vorwulf, Grom the shaman, Persis, and Draznor) are combing the beach along the shore of the Western Ocean hunting a giant two-headed troll. The group figures they will hunt the giant two-headed troll prowling the beach and then travel as far as they can along the beach before hitting the sea cliffs then move inland to a cluster of fishing villages along the shore of a natural bay and onto the rumored ruins west of Lachmor ot the north of the city of Chago. Suddenly they catch sight of a group of Templars in full battle regalia their full plate and steel barding glinting in the morning sun at full gallop towards them.

The Templars reign in at a respectful distance while the two leading horses jaunt up to them both holy warriors remove their great helms. The first is Zavan the red whom hails them in a barely comprehensible Hyvalian accent. The other reveals himself to be Han-Morro an arrogant sneer smeared across his face. He begins talking to Zavan in derisive tones in the Hyvalian tongue never once deigning to look in their direction.

Zavan: “What are you doing out here?”

Vorwulf: “Hunting trolls.”

Zavan: “Well, beware of druids! We almost mistook you for them!” He let out a belly laugh. Han-Morro said something else that Zavan didn’t translate.

Bers was just standing there silent and content with simply scowling at him.

Zavan then said something which was unintelligible to the dragon-slayers and then he and Han-Morro turned and rejoined their group. The armored horsemen then galloped off past the dragon-slayers making sure to have their horses kick up a virtual storm of sand.

The next day they begin moving inland form the beach trying to find the first village on their planned route and wind up traveling farther inland than they realized sighting the edge of a forest that Vorwulf recognized as the northernmost end of Chago Forest. While trying to correct his mistake in navigating the party Vorwulf caught sight of a young dragon which appeared as a brown fang dragon but was black striped. While he kept an eye out after sighting it they wound up back near the beach close to where they departed it by early afternoon. This is when the dragon pounced.

It blasted at them with its fire breath catching all within the cone of flames singeing Bers and Persis badly enough for Persis to take cover by the wagon which miraculously escaped damage this time and Bers to make a recovery check. The battle almost lasted a full melee round with Bers getting in a devastating power attack and Thrall (the shaman’s protégé) dealing the deathblow. They decided to try to double time it to the first village and by dusk they made it.

Travel along the bay coast was easy and uneventful they reached the 3rd of 4 villages by sundown the next day, they checked out each and every village tavern to ‘gather info’. At the 4th village they were directed towards Lachmor lake but were told that they would have to leave the coast and travel inland to circumvent the sea cliffs traveling up the rising land then to where it suddenly drops where it meets the southern end of Strogo swamp. They were warned that trolls were about at night in the swamp spreading out from the Troll’s Marsh several more miles ot the northeast for some unknown reason. There were also ruins of an ancient stone fortress at the edge of a sea cliff reached by a narrow earthen ramp a few miles of the lake. When questioned about the giant troll they were told that the creature was known but didn’t seem to travel from the beaches which the villagers of all the villages have learned to avoid at night. It also seemed to wander the highlands where the cliffs swept up inland.

The next morning after spending the night in an outlying hut that they had rented for a small sack of gems as the village had been hostile upon their approach they first headed to the beach to find the base of the cliffs. They did find evidence of the troll further up from the beach and spent most of the day looking for a potential lair but could find nothing so they decided to continue on to the ruins. Over the next four days while circumscribing along the shore of the freshwater lake Lachmor they fought and killed a pair of swamp dragons, 8 marsh trolls where each of them scored at least a single kill, and a group of 3 more marsh trolls led by a 10 ft. tall troll armed with a mace (most of the trolls save the one with a weapon were bestial). At the end of the fourth day they set up camp on the shores of the lake ready for a well-deserved rest.

That morning they began maneuvering towards the high ground and found that they had to turn further inland than they intended towards the Strogo Swamp in order to find a slope up into the highland as they kept running into bluffs. To make things worse the land sank and was covered in tough woody bushes and rushes which blocked vision and impeded progress. They found a trail and by midday found they had barely made any progress and realized they probably had to approach the highlands directly from the north. They continued following the trail and soon found an ancient paving, probably an old road but it appeared to carry at least occasional traffic. They decided to follow it north as it was the only clear path and found it turned northeast towards Strogo Swamp. They stopped at what appeared to be an old plaza with a pitted low wall on one side and an overgrown well. It was already evening and they decided to turn back south in the morning and pulled the wagon up in order to secure it when they caught the sound of crackling branches and saw an Arborean in druid’s robes bearing a wooden staff.

Druid: “Hail there! I am Bohk of the Banded Rock who might you be?”

Vorwulf: “Dragon-slayers but we’re making our way to the ruins on the cliffs.”

Druid: “I see, I see. You wear the symbol of the Hyvalians.” He pointed a woody finger at Bers. She always wore the wooden holy symbol of the Hyvalian Theocracy given to her by the paladin Sir Chinsalis.

Vorwulf: “We came from Chago.”

Bohk the Druid: “I see.” He waved an arm signaling his compatriots whom sprang from bushes.

They found themselves surrounded by a group of guerilla fighters 3 of which appeared to be Moorvyr, ethnic Westlanders loyal to the Orthodox Druidic Order. Another of them was a Faun with the appearance of a mage with sword drawn and Vorwulf could see at least 2 archers in the bush one of them wearing a bright red tunic and cape. The remaining man had the savage appearance of a typical Westlander tribesman. The bush-fighters declared them prisoners and the dragon-slayers went on the attack. At the beginning of the battle a scraggly looking man in the soiled clothes of an Ivoran buccaneer with a rapier at his side joined the battle attacking the druid when he fell back into the bushes stopping him from casting his spells at the dragon-slayers.

It was a short but savage battle where by the end of the first round Persis, Bers’ Ferenoi protégé, was dead feathered with red fletched arrows. One of the fighters and the faun on the other side were also killed. By the end of the second round the all save Bohk and the scarlet archer were dead. Bers chased down the scarlet archer and cut her down in vengeance slaughtering her with a single blow, she hadn’t been touched once in the battle proper as she had stayed under cover.

The vagabond that had entered the battle on their behalf introduced himself as simply ‘Buck’ and presented them with the druid’s staff though he hadn’t managed to kill him he had taken his staff form him before he “got away”. He had been lost in the swamp for several days after a caravan he was a part of had been ambushed by Westlanders. He was the only survivor that he was aware of. Their destination had been Chago. They allowed him to accompany them. Buck and the shaman became fast friends. During the night during camp after they found a suitable spot after about an hour of additional wandering on Vorwulf’s watch a large black wolf wandered into camp that he recognized as Rrhga. The sentient wolf from the Wilderlands which they had hired as long with his companions in the Falmark when traveling into Hirok-Nor.

Rrhga: “I’ve been watching the camp this entire time. The druid sent me.”

Vorwulf: “So what’s going down?”

Rrhga: “Just a warning. The next time we meet we’re enemies.” With that the wolf disappeared into the dark.

By late the next day they found themselves at the foot of a wooded rise to where the ruins should lie. They traveled up the rise for about 2 hours until they came to the ruins at the end of a narrow ramping path with a shut iron gate and what appeared to be a makeshift guard shack at the bottom of the ramp with a bored looking guard leaning against it. The guard a massive man with trollish features, he was a half-troll after all, looked up at them and with a sigh donned his horned great helm with its snarling demonic facemask. He lifted up his weapon a massive iron maul onto his shoulder and held out his hand to stop them.

Gate Keeper: “Ho there! Dragon-slayers!” The group looked at each other then back at the guard.

Gate Keeper: “Password.” He sighed then started to step aside then stopped himself when they remained quiet. Bers said something a wild guess at a password which was absolutely wrong as should have been expected.

The group tensed prepared for battle as the half-troll got into a fighting stance then a loud shout came from behind the group. They saw a hill-giant cresting the rise followed by a wagon his black dragon hide armor glinting in the sun his giant bearded axe on his shoulders. On the wagon were 3 Westlander humans one wrapped almost completely in his black robes. The other two were mean looking acid-scarred and dirty faced men with bristly beards. One was armed with a black dragon hide bullwhip and the other was in the back of the open wagon polishing his flamberg wearing an open helm studded with dragon teeth. Both were wearing similar suits of black dragon hide armor. Following alongside the wagon was a dragonsaurus which looked whip-scarred and vicious with a cape of black dragon hide armor. Buck recognized the loud yell of the Hill Giant as a word in the troll tongue, very hard for non-trolls to pronounce. Our heroes watched as the other apparent dragon-slayers were granted entry. After the gates closed the guard looked back at them and started with surprise as if he had forgotten that they were there.

Gate Keeper: “Password?”

Buck tried but failed to pronounce the word then Bers attempted it and failed miserably. Buck tried to bluff their way in but it failed but he did convince the guard that they simply couldn’t pronounce the word.

Gate Keeper: “Well then, you can wait but you ain’t getting in that gate till I hear it from one o’yer mouths.”

They traveled back down to the bottom of the rise and went into the cover of the trees. The group decided to wait until nightfall then attack the gate keeper hopefully as quickly and quietly as possible and then figure something out after they get inside. The attack on the gate keeper went pretty much flawlessly even though the armor he had on was apparently magical as a glowing golden shield appeared in front of him when the fight began automatically blocking arrows and almost blocking the slayers’ melee weapon blows. The fight lasted for a single round with the gate keeper only getting in a single unsuccessful power attack against Bers with Vorwulf getting in the last blow. They tossed in a few alchemist fires into the suit after removing the helm and reduced his corpse to ashes inside of his armor. None of them was so much as scratched during in the combat. They found, however, that the gate was locked with no apparent keyhole and there was no key amongst the half-troll’s remains. The shaman was convinced it was magic of some kind the doors probably only responded to those of troll-blood. They then decided to split up leaving the wagon hidden off to the side somewhere and leave Grom, Buck, and Draznor to guard it. Now the plan was to fly over the wall as they assumed, rightly, that the gate opened into a courtyard using Bers’ Cape of Bat-Flight and the Rings of Invisibility each of the two had. They would scout it out first then return to the rest of the group maybe opening the gates from inside. For the most part their plan was successful and they found themselves in a rather large courtyard which was surrounded by a system of open walkways the lengths of which lined were with doors opening into small apartment-like rooms. The courtyard was filled with pup-tents, cooking fires and dozens of apparent vagabond dragon-slayers. There were a few hill-giants among many humans and fauns. All appeared to be Westlanders so the pair decided to turn off their rings careful to not get sighted suddenly appearing and walked among the crowd in order to glean some information about what the hell was going on. After about an hour they found out that the congregation of dragon-slayers was orchestrated by a self-proclaimed “troll-king” named Pallgak. They also gathered that depending on whom they asked that the slayers were supposed to either kill or capture a dragon, an ancient, lairing somewhere in the swamp or possibly among the “isles”. They also spotted various trolls wandering among the crowd acting as guards, most were latter generation (stupid and more bestial than their born or second or third generation trolls) the few that weren’t varied in size and were well-equipped with plate armor and weapons. They waited until a troll crier made an appearance waddling through the only double-doors in the courtyard opening to reveal a large hall behind once opened. He made the announcement that the slayers’ promised bounty, 5,000 gold talons plus any treasure that they may find, if they deliver either the Shadow Dragon of Strogo Swamp or the Great Red Dragon of the Sulfur Isle. For those going to take the red ships have already been bought for the trip and wait in the port of Chago. All groups will depart as soon as the Green Dragon Archers arrive and are briefed.

Bers: “So when are we going to kill this guy.”

Vorwulf: “Shh. Let’s turn invisible and fly up to the battlements and find a way down into the throne room and we’ll get ‘em then!”

So that’s what they did and fairly easily they found their way down into the passageway which led into the rear of the throne room. What was waiting there in front of the doors behind which they assumed Pallgak waited was a 15 ft. tall three-headed troll wearing full plate armor and wielding a massive hammer big even in for its wielder’s size. They charged it.

In the first round the giant troll had the upper hand forcing both Bers and Vorwulf to dodge his hammer and even forcing Vorwulf to make a recovery check at the end of the round. The second round started off bad with the giant troll getting a Natural 20 for its Initiative check but Bers was able to get in two power attacks and Vorwulf backed off to drink a healing potion then moved back in. The third round found Bers and Vorwulf making recovery checks in an effort to stave off at least some of the massive damage they were enduring. The pair of heroes held their own against the giant in the fourth and fifth rounds where the creature began showing some wear from their rain of blows. By the end of the sixth round Vorwulf was forced into another recovery check and both Bers’ and Vorwulf’s armor was nearly shredded and barely hanging on fortunately the troll appeared to be in bad straits gushing black stinking blood everywhere. In the seventh the troll was finally felled by a blow from Bers but not before Vorwulf was again making another recovery check. They were going to burn the corpse but they heard the clatter of guards, probably mostly trolls coming in from all sides. They were both very wounded, were out of potions and Vorwulf’s armor was gone and Bers had only a few shreds left which would be torn off with a single good hit. They quickly found the keys on the giant’s corpse and opened Pallgak’s door rushing into the darkened chamber and shutting then locking the door behind them.

To Be Continued…

The Arvan Game Pt. 34: Party Party Party!

We rejoin our 5 heroes, Bers the Westlander female fighter played by Jenn, Persus the Ferenoi (Feren amazon) fighter/dungeoneer her protégé, Vorwulf the Westlander ranger/dragonslayer, Draznor the Westlander ranger his protégé, and Grom the Westlander shaman played by Gil. It was the evening of the party and the guests were starting to arrive. Bers stood by the entrance the shiesty mage Xanto the wasp next to her standing like a pompous scarecrow as the crier announced each guest as they entered the hall. Xanto was dressed in his finery with a black silk cape with a yellow lining and split yellow and black tights. He had long-toed black leather shoes with silver buckles and had on a soft leather doublet with silver buckles up the front with yellow silk sleeves showing from the shirt underneath and a pair of black leather gloves. His black hair was slicked back and his black forked goatee was styled with scented oils. On his neck he had on a ridiculously high frilly collar ruff. Bers had on a custom bright orange silk gown with a bright blue leather bodice all studded with diamonds, sapphires, citrines, opals and rubies from her own hoard of treasure. She also had on purple leather sleeved-gloves and for some reason she also had on a thick candy-red belt with a single large engraved silver buckle and wearing the ebony barrette with decorative runes taken from Sawback’s horde. Persus was dressed similarly but with a bright blue dress instead. The first guest entered.

In royal finery and a black soft leather cape with a silvery silk lining was Han-Morro (see Pt.13) bearing the escutcheon of the Templar Order of the Rose on his blue soft leather doublet and next to him the large red-haired Templar also in his best who was Han-Morro’s apparent lackey introduced as Zavan the Red (I never bothered to mention him in the blog since the players pretty much ignored him and never got his name nor did he ever interact with them while at Veringer’s Field). Han-Morro was there representing the “king” of Chago as he was the royal cousin. They shook the hands of the skinny mage whom eagerly reciprocated with a wide toothy grin his slick beard jutting out. Neither of the Templars attempted to meet hands with Bers simply walking by with their noses in the air and they giggled after they passed out of her sight which made her wince since she KNEW they were laughing at her.

Jenn: “Ugh! I was hoping that guy was dead!”

The fanatic cleric Li-Alo followed wearing his standard and humble yellow priests robes (see also Pt.13) followed by the Arch-Bishop of Chago (they weren’t important enough for the Hierophant to actually show up) named Wuhan Nangiori accompanied by priest Vodou as representatives of the cathedral. The representatives of the mages’ guild, the Pillars of Vision, arrived meeting Xanto with a raised eyebrow.

Guildmaster Nang-Corani: “So where is your badge Xanto?”

Xanto: “Well I’m hardly representing the guild in my current capacity, no?”

The other two mages named Shustro and Renglio both of whom had met with the slayers in the Blackwings guild house followed him all grasping hands with Bers as they passed her but each rolling their eyes as they passed the wasp in turn. The guild badges on all three of their chest glinting in the lamp light. What followed took Bers aback a bit.

3 large lions strode gracefully through the door each wearing a silver fringed deep green cape with heavy gold chains with large uncut rubies hanging at the throat. The first large male lion was introduced as Grahrg diplomat of the Wilderlands, his wife was next to him a proud lioness named Aahmgra accompanied by their bodyguard Nhryag. Eight more guests funneled into the hall, a portraiture from the artists’ guild, the chancellor of Stormcliff university (the name of the stone formation by which the cathedral sat), a pair of knights, a father and son each wearing large silver dragon pendants which dangled on their chests they seemed hostile to Bers but not at all to Xanto.  They were followed by their bodyguard a martial artist bearing no weapons with large rampant serpent tattoo on his chest. A knight and his lady followed them. They both had yellow cat-like eyes and sandy-blond hair. He bore a beaded griffin on the chest of his blue doublet. They seemed to snub the previous pair and walked over to the lions with which they seemed to have an affinity. Their bodyguard followed them wearing a tiger-patterned gi who immediately glowered at the previous bodyguard and got daggers shot back at him.

After a short gap 3 military men walked in. General Lou with a rampant leopard on his cloak followed by Lieutenant Astamo with a rampant tiger on his with Captain Renale with a rampant bear on his walked in last. They made a beeline to the ale kegs and seemed to keep to themselves unless approached by other guests. 21 other guests followed 3 individuals from each guild in the city. The minstrel threw aside his shimmering purple cape and began to play his harp. He was named Lugo Anmori dressed in a split brown and green outfit with a green escutcheon with a ram’s horn curling about a golden acorn was sown the chest, the symbol of the Bardic College at Ezmer. He was the most respected and most expensive entertainer in the city. Douamo the Blackwing guildmaster and his second Trogon were the last to be greeted by Bers at the door. Her duty fulfilled at the door greeting the guests Bers retreated to the barrels with the other Blackwings with Persus following.

The party was underway and the hall was filled with the low murmur of polite speech, mostly in Hyvalian with some Westlander in an Ivoran accent and occasionally brief bursts of polite laughter would rise above the chatter then sink quickly back down. The griffin knight and his lady stayed next to the lions for most of the night. Han-morro, his companions and those of the cathedral stayed in their own group sat at the tables drinking heavily and eating the lion’s share of the food especially the bishop. The guildsmen were the largest clique at the party a few sometimes breaking away to circulate among the other groups. The mages were busy briskly jaunting from one group to another never spending too much time with any group or individual. Persus proved to be popular with the men being tall and beautiful. Bers spent the night trying to “get her some” but failed at that though she managed not to commit any social fopaux.

Grom on the other hand brought in his chickens and his pig in the middle of the party. He then went about slaughtering them and began cooking them on the stone oven and fire-pit in the middle of the hall. The cooks were nonplused but were quieted by a handful of gems. After he left the meat sizzling over the flames he went about washing his hands with ale and proceeded to drink himself into a stupor. Vorwulf stood in a corner drinking by himself occasionally talking to the Blackwings then decided to step outside where he smoked his long-stemmed dragon-bone pipe using up the last of some high-grade smoking herbs that Xanto had procured while he gazed up at the stars.

Later on in the night the shaman decided to show off after the minstrel finished his last song and figured the wood hall was a perfect place to throw a line of flames into the air mostly to impress the Templars who were using him as a butt of a joke that he didn’t understand. They burst into maniacal laughter when the rafters caught fire and even harder when he turned as the flames gushed from his fingers setting a wall on fire! He panicked and dumped a barrel of ale on the fire and used a Wind Rush spell on the rafters fortunately putting it out but blasting out a patch of roof. The Templars then dumped a full keg of ale over his head. He then went outside to smoke with Vorwulf. Both of the men could still hear the raucous laughter from outside for quite some time.

They returned together to the apartments where Vorwulf expected to find only Draznor guarding the stuff. They instead found him passed out drunk next to a drunken barbarian.

Grom: “That’s Thrall he’s from my tribe and my protégé.”

To Be Continued…