Category Archives: GM Blog

Vorwulf had just finished chopping the head off of the barbarian chieftain (trophy headhunting is a Westlander warrior tradition of great antiquity), Magiia was busy looting the headless corpse finding 250 gold pieces, 50 silver, and 20 platinum pieces. Vor then snatched up a couple of small bags, both were black and yellow in color, from the dead man’s belt. He assumed that they were the Wasp’s property. One proved to be a bag of meals from which a hot meal of bread and meat could be pulled out three times a day. The other was a bag of holding full of what appeared to Vor as a bunch of spell components and other uninteresting stuff. They wisely left the medallions (the magic charges that had fueled their magic were spent anyhow) and their boots all of which bore the mark of the dragon. Grom checked the Wasp and found that he was very near death.

Vorwulf (Played by Cris): “Well, heal him healer. You are the group healer.”

Grom (Played by Gil): “Aww man, I don’t wanna waste a healing potion on this guy.”

Afterwards they moved the wasp to the rowboat and got on their way with Vorwulf at the stern of the magical craft. Grom eventually healed the Wasp up enough for him to ‘not die’ with his healing touch ability. It took a little while to catch up to their hill-giant guide, Jez. Vorwulf had mistaken a strangely shaped yew copse for the boar-hunter and taken them a little ways in the wrong direction. Jez agreed to guide them north around the bend of the ridge, a trip of around 11 miles or so. The trip was necessary as around the southern curl of the ridge was the Spider Wood.

Vorwulf (when the others complained): “Well it’s not named ‘Spider Wood’ for nothing.”

By evening they had reached the apex of the north bend and could see the Nor-Rills (river) a few miles directly north as they were on the high ground and completely in the open having broken into a large area of grassland. The night was quiet and passed quickly. Wasting no time they were off and moving again finally being led to a lakeside campsite hidden among reeds and cattails that were several inches above their heads and to Jez’s waist. Jez used the swampy place frequently when on hunts. It featured a stone-lined fire-pit and stash of dry firewood. After the giant set camp the slayers sat around the fire and discussed the Wasp.

Gil: “Maybe I should turn him into a mouse or snail and carry him in my bag.”

Cris: “Man he’s a mage so his Will save’s gonna be high. Maybe we can pay the giant to take him back to Merdna and the protégées.”

Jenn (Magiia’s Player): “Naw. The giant’s a dumb@$$ he’ll just talk the giant into letting him go or something.”

Gil: “Yeah man, he’s crafty he’s gonna find his way out of it.”

Cris: “Well, where we’re going he wants to go too so we’ll just have to keep an eye on ‘em.”

The night was quiet until Maggi’s watch when all were wakened by the sounds of battle but by the time they were all up and ready Maggi assured them that they were safe. A pair of Green Jellies had crept up on the bivouacking adventurers from the water and she had with a single powerful whack killed the both of them. All that was left was a sizzling puddle of slime at the water’s edge.

Morning; the argument between Vor and Grom about the Wasp continued. Eventually…

Vorwulf: “Alright, alright! Go ahead and try then!”

Grom attempted to cast Animal Form on the Wasp but the lanky wizard was able to resist the magic quite easily. So in an attempt to finesse some information from Xanto, the shaman engaged him in a brief conversation in which the Wasp was his usual charming self and tried to get Grom to loosen his tethers “just a little”. Vor who overheard the whole exchange saw right through the ploy and stopped the shaman from carrying it out. Probably a little embarrassed, Grom stopped playing nice and threatened the Wasp getting some information as reward for his intimidation attempt. Xanto told them about Millenium Trees and the immense power those legendary plants hold and that the Millenium Mushroom should have a similar potency. A few minutes later Grom had the genius idea to try to “recruit” Jez the hill-giant bribing him with the gold lightning javelin he had taken from Blackbrow. It didn’t work but the giant took the treasure anyway.

After a day’s travel they came to the pebble banks of a rapidly flowing westerly river, the appearance of the purple moon signaled their stopping. Jez departed dragging his sledge due east after telling the slayers to go straight north across the river, they could already see the chalk mesa of the White Heath about 2 miles beyond the unnamed river. To the south were seemingly endless rolling grasslands which gradually sloped down with a long low hill about half a mile from their camp. There was no good place to conceal their camp. They wisely decided to light no fire. Grom attempted to commune with nature in order to get a better idea about the ruins and to pinpoint their location but unable to get a bead on anything realized they were currently out of his range. The Wasp now demanded to be released as he knew which ruins they were seeking.

Magiia: “There’s more than one?”

Xanto the Wasp: “There’s two.”

Grom (intimidatingly): “WHERE? WHICH ONE!”

Vorwulf just stood there laughing to himself.

Xanto: “Uhm, Uh, there’s a southerly ruins and a more northern one. We want the northern one!”

Vorwulf (referring to the Wasp’s initial demand): “Not till morning.”

The group settled in to sleep; Maggi counted her dragon-blood potions and found she had only 3 left.

Come morning Vorwulf fed the Wasp from the bag of meals and discussed with him the terms under which he was traveling. The rawhide snapped as he cut the Wasp’s bonds (who was now conscious and complaining) and tossed the Wasp his bag of holding. The ranger kept the bag of meals. Xanto pulled out a yellow glass vial from his bag and drank down its contents, all his wounds instantly and fully healed. He pulled a fresh suit of yellow & black clothes and a clean pair of black velvet shoes.

Gil: “How’re we going to get across the river.”

Jenn: “It can’t go over water right?”

Cris: ?

The GM (me): “They think it’s like a hoverboard.”

Cris: “Nooo! It’s MAGIC!”

They proceeded in their hover-boat over the rapidly flowing river. Suddenly when they reached the dead center of the span a giant horned water-serpent leaped out of the water its bull-like horns aimed at the vessel’s timber but Maggi made quick work of it while balancing on the edge of the craft as they hovered over the raging water. Soon, they were able to quickly reach the pale edifice of the White Heath well before noon. The 200 ft. cliff-face was heavily pocked with hundreds of bird hovels with a few being “man-size”. Vorwulf climbed a pine, there many trees, thickets and woody shrubs growing in the cold shadow of the cliff, to catch a bird’s eye. The cliff stretched as far as he could see both northward and to the south-east. They deserted the rowboat and were determined to climb up to what appeared a bounding wall along the top of the edifice which fluctuated in height greatly depending on the level of ruin of that particular section.

Vorwulf used his scimitar of dimensional door to reach the top, slashing open a dimensional rift and at stepping through appeared at the top of the wall at its most stable-looking point. Maggi easily scaled the rope that Vorwulf had lowered arriving at his side at surprising speed. The shaman cast bestial might on himself gaining a pair of wings as well as a thick coat of fur, a pair of claws, and large owl-eyes. He flapped his wings and shot upward in the direction of his companions but from out of one of the larger bird-holes in the cliff-face as he passed over the opening a Roc (a brown eagle the size of a man) shot at him with talons bared. Grom got off a spell as a simultaneous attack blasting the powerful bird back into its burrow with a cleverly applied wind rush spell. He wasted no time in joining his companions; the monster-bird did not reemerge.

What they saw before them was a vast ruined city made of bone-white limestone with multiple gaping and shadowed windows, holes, and doorways in the remaining squat structures staring back at them like the orbits of malformed skulls and vast areas and piles of limestone blocks like broken teeth scattered everywhere. When they realized that they had taken their eyes off of the Wasp they noticed he was already at the top of the wall next to them.

Cris: “He probably has wasp-wings under that cloak.”

Jenn: “Well let’s see.”

Magiia gave the skinny wizard a “helpful push” knocking him easily from the wall, a pair of buzzing tough looking brown wings, much like that of a wasp, sprang forth and lowered him gently to the floor of the skeletal city. They soon followed one after the other. Vorwulf was determined to stay out of the buildings and try to stay in the open areas desiring to get out of the place fast as possible as there were probably “all sorts of things abouts”. He made it a point to make sure the Wasp understood that. They began to move and the shaman spotted several piles of scattered bones, indeed there fairly fresh bones everywhere. Vor identified them as the bones of bears and goats and the tracks all around the area as those of a pack of manticore.

Grom: “What’s a manticore, they have wings? Like a chimera?”

Xanto the Wasp: “I hate manticores. They freak me out!” He looked truly disturbed.

After explaining to Grom what may be wandering about, Maggi didn’t care “as long as they bleed”, Vor told everyone to stay close and don’t stray. The Wasp was staying almost too close to the ranger as the party snaked their way through the remains of the dead city. To calm his shaky nerves the Wasp started to run at the mouth telling the slayers a story:

 

Y’know around 600 years ago the Brown Horde seized the entirety of the White Heath and both cities which at the time were still but weakened bastions of the Mad Mages. It was they that chewed the maze of tunnels that now exist in the limestone edifice connecting the tombs, natural caves, labyrinths, storerooms, and oubliettes. And I guess the bird-holes now. I have no doubt some of those Roc-burrows lead there. They run the entire underground of the heath. The first city the hordes attacked, the southern one, resisted their attacks to the bitter end but the northern city was betrayed by a small wizard faction connected with the Obsidian Guild possibly some of its founders which allowed them to remain unmolested for a time. Eventually however with the coming of the Red Horde and then the Black the city was reduced to a complete ruin. The fate of the betrayer wizards was never recorded though an adventurer and brother of good standing with the Obsidian Guild led an expedition about 100 years ago chasing down the lost brothers after discovering some documents in the library at Ezmer recorded by an anonymous Hill-Lander bard. He discovered their tomb, or at least where their bodies were piled but he also noted the active leyline and silvery filaments that were a part of some strange inter-dimensional fungus which was too powerful for him to “molest” in any fashion save to come out of the tumulus the only survivor with a single silver strand. I have read his notes the filaments lend a special potency to viands and potions and especially to the imbiber. I have done the research as well on the mushroom and it is indeed akin a millennium tree though I admit, I have no idea it’s nature. I do know though that in 2 days the mushroom should sprout if the planetary charts are correct, ah druids ever their eyes to the skies, with the Green Moon making an appearance. We need to get there before the cap fully opens. If the Outrider, wherever he is, was correct we are still about 2 days away from the northern ruins though.

 

Vorwulf: “Good to know.”

 

To Be Continued…

The sharp-toothed cannibals charged the slayers all bearing a common mark branded into their foreheads. Grom recognized them as an enemy of his tribe from the far north, dragon worshippers. All of the barbarians were clothed in red dyed bear-hide armor and wolf-skin mantles with steel pectoral plates held in place by a cross-harness and a spiked bracer on each arm, the armor also bore the same crude mark. The chief, baring his pointed teeth from under his open-helm and its antlers, was wielding a two-handed great bipennis axe in each hand and what they took as his second was wielding a two-handed great war-hammer in each hand. Just behind them were 7 warriors each wielding a two-handed great mace and following the 7 was a shaman wearing only a red robe and wielding an iron-staff covered in runes. All were also wearing gold medallions around their necks stamped with the familiar mark. Suddenly bounding over that group appeared what appeared to be a winged red-scaled dragonsaurus, Vorwulf instantly recognized it as a Drake. The creature was wearing scale mail barding.

Vorwulf (Played by Cris): “Sh*#. They have a war-beast.”

The slayers disembarked their vessel. With some seconds before the raging barbarians would reach them Vorwulf activated the Ring of Orbs ability on his scimitar and Bear’s Endurance on his gold helmet. Grom cast Mass Bull’s Strength, as did the enemy shaman for his allies, and summoned 4 earth elementals which began to move forward very slowly. Vorwulf shot a magic arrow at the oncoming tribals which exploded in the air unleashing the Thunder Arrow spell raining arrows of pure electrical energy over the entire area. But they disappeared before colliding with their targets, the medallions around their necks glowed with unnatural power. In response the shaman cast Call Lightning with the same results.

Cris (with more than a little sarcasm in a rather hostile tone, and referring to the medallions apparent abilities): “OH OF COURSE they have something to stop magic! OF COURSE THEY DO! OH SURE, SURE!” He threw his hands up in the air in disgust. “SURE THEY DO!”

Vorwulf charged to meet the oncoming war-party which as they closed with the slayers erupted into a foaming rage. As it flew low over Vorwulf the drake unleashed its fire breath which Vor easily avoided. Magiia charged forward 50 ft. following after the battle-thirsty ranger. He quickly drew his great axe and attacked the charging war-chief dealing but a scratch to the barbarian. Grom cast Entangling Growth and caught every charging barbarian warrior save for the leader and his second within the twining grasses. The war-chief swung at Vorwulf missing. The red drake swooped in with a talon attack against Maggs barely missing his target. The barbarian lieutenant attacked Vorwulf missing by a hair’s breadth with his paired war-hammers. The entangled warriors were held fast until their shaman neared and he was able to counter the active spell freeing them as the spidery grasses retreated. The warriors continued their charge homing in on Maggi and Grom. Vorwulf continued his two on one duel with the barbarian chief and his lieutenant. Maggi engaged the drake and Grom pulled out a magic rod and used its Quicksand ability trapping 3 of the charging warriors. The fight continued this way with Maggi getting a powerful hit against the drake on a counter attack and Grom sent his elementals forward to try to get at the enemy shaman who was still a fair distance away. Four of the encroaching warriors finally reached and surrounded Maggi landing a few solid hits on her. Grom called down lightning on the enemy shaman, his medallion prevented it from harming him as before. The 3 warriors in the quicksand were able to extract themselves from the quagmire with a group grapple check roll of a natural 20. Vor was holding his own against the pair of powerful barbarians though he took a couple of nasty blows. Near the end of the round the Drake pounced on Maggi forcing her to the ground with a flying tackle. The 4 warriors that had surrounded her unable to reach the Ferenoi through their war-beast instead turned on Grom nailing him with several furious blows. He unleashed a primal scream on them dealing some damage and partially deafening them but they were proof against the fear effects and continued to wail on him with their spiked maces. The enemy shaman countered Grom’s elementals which melted back into the earth and used his iron staff to teleport right next to his counterpart and swung with the heavy staff. Grom caught with only a magic rod in his hands attempted to parry the red-shaman’s blow and successful got caught in a clinch locking the staff in a test of strength against the iron rod. Vorwulf found himself in a similar situation with his buckler locked with one of the leader’s great bipennis axes. Fortunately his sword arm was free and as he saw it one of the leader’s axes was tied up as well.

Maggi was able to force her way out from under the drake, Vor hacked away at the leader with his free arm, and Grom got free of the clinch by dropping the rod but the red-shaman whacked him in turn with the iron staff. The war-chief’s second swung madly at Vorwulf as did the war-chief with his free arm and freeing the other of the clinch with shear brute strength. The red drake lunged at Maggi with a powerful bite but was batted away and wounded savagely by her counter attack. The four warriors around Grom began to swing in unison with their maces and the shaman countered with a simultaneous Mass Animal Form spell. All four were zapped into rabbits which immediately fled hopping away in all directions. Maggi chopped the drake down with a finishing power-attack opening the mighty animal from shoulder to belly, shrieking as it fell. Vorwulf continued to battle the war-chief and his lieutenant almost losing his weapon in a serious fumble. Grom pulled out his morning star of supernatural might and swung at the red-shaman whose robes immediately shot forth dozens of red-scaled serpents which entwined the shaman’s body serving the barbarian as some kind of hideous magic armor. The morning star smashed against the writhing snakes and a few serpents struck back at him but missed with their venom dripping fangs. Maggs charged the barbarian lieutenant landing a blow but finding her opponent her toughest yet though she had drawn blood.

Magiia (Played by Jenn): “If he bleeds I can kill’em!”

After avoiding a powerful blow from the war-chief and with succor from Maggi engaging his second foe Vorwulf disarmed the barbarian leader of one of his weapons. Vorwulf continued his assault against the cannibal chieftain and Maggi blasted his second with blow after blow which he tried to match never quite landing a blow of equal power. Grom meanwhile valiantly stood against the enemy shaman and 3 of the barbarian warriors. The Blackwings’ shaman activated his ring of Frost Nova which unleashed a blast of cold which enveloped him dealing frost damage to any who would dare to strike at him and freezing 2 of the nearby warriors’ feet to the earth. The third however struck a horrid blow mashing half of Grom’s ribs into a single purple, bleeding mass.

Gil (Grom’s Player): “Guys!? I’m gonna die here!”

The cannibal lieutenant and Magiia continued to exchange blows. Vor caught the chieftain in a fumble when he tried to parry his axe blow and nearly cut him in half slaying the cannibal chief in a geyser of blood. The ranger turned and ran to Grom’s aid. The warriors fighting with Grom alternated from getting their feet frozen to the ground and freeing themselves as they struggled to continue their assault with one nearly throwing his weapon in a dramatic miss and another bashing the unfortunate shaman with a natural 20 reducing him to knockout points. The red-shaman swung with his iron staff again the whistling blow ending in a clinch with Grom.

Maggi and her foe continued to furiously hack and hammer at each other. Vorwulf chopped into one of the warriors assaulting Grom. Grom activated the Mage Armor ability on his morning star in the hopes of saving his own life; a semi-transparent field of bluish light came around his body taking the form of gently glowing transparent full plate armor. The red-shaman attempted to disarm his clinched foe but failed. Vor was able to drop one of the still-standing fighters while the other two redoubled their efforts against him while the two shamans fought it out in single combat. Maggi eventually felled the lieutenant and moved to assist Vor; she was badly wounded by this time. Grom disarmed his enemy flinging the iron staff far into the tall grasses, it was lost. He followed that with a mighty blow of his morning star which tore through the red serpent armor; the tattered serpents fell away from the enemy shaman’s body and faded to nothingness. The red-shaman backed up about 25 ft. from Grom and cast a spell that caused his hands to curl into bestial claws.

The remaining pair of warriors landed massive blows (both Natural 20’s) on Maggi nearly killing her. She served back some damage back to them but they still stood fast. Vorwulf continued to strike at one of the two hitting only air. The enemy shaman slashed at Grom with his evil talons and Grom responded with a wide and powerful swing accidentally flinging his magic weapon several feet away. One of the warriors swung a massive and hateful blow (Natural 20) at Vor whom expertly parried with a natural 20 and the other warrior unleashed a possible deathblow at Maggi with another natural 20 roll but this time on a power-attack! She knocked the massively powerful strike away with a natural 20 of her own! She then replied with a nasty swing of her axe dropping the savage steeping herself and weapon in blood up to her elbows. Vorwulf took a few more swings to kill his enemy and then tossed the wounded amazon a healing potion. When they looked over to the dueling shamans they saw that Grom had clinched a paired claw-strike at his eyes and then wrestled the red-shaman to the ground and pinned him down.

They attempted to question the barbarian but he continued to fight and was able to free a single clawed hand. Vorwulf saw through his attempt to swallow some poison from a pouch around his neck snatching it away just in time so the savage clawed out his own throat. Maggs turned to the pouch which Vor had tossed away and saw a few strange looking yellow pills had rolled out so she scooped them back into it as she picked it up.

Magiia: “Hmmm what are these?” She shrugged and put the small leather pouch into her bag of holding.

The scent of human blood was overpowering. The Blackwings were surrounded by 10 butchered human corpses and a dead drake.

Vor: “Wait. Where’s the Wasp at?”

He looked over and saw the Wasp was still where he had been dropped. It was evident that he had tried his rawhide bonds but was too weak to escape.

The slayers walked over to beaten wizard. His battered face rolled up towards them. “Hi guys.” He said pathetically and then his face flopped back into the dirt. He had passed out.

 

To Be Continued…

Magiia held a ready stance her shield on one arm and her battle-axe in hand, Vorwulf stood unarmored with his two-handed astral-drift-metal great axe in his, and Grom readied waiting to unleash his magic on the onrushing troll-flesh. The battle howl of the night-trolls became deafening as they charged in. The raging black-skinned trolls were wearing Scale-mail vests the medallions on their chests bearing the unmistakable arms of Trollguard. They were brandishing their serpent-bladed great swords menacingly and carelessly in the air.

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “Makes sense. These guys loose out here like the Black Soldiery.”

Gil (Grom’s Player): “What?”

Cris: “We killed their leaders. The lich. Remember, Vorwulf and Bers killed their [the trolls]  God-King. Of Trollguard. While you fought with the army.” Trollguard is immediately adjacent to, in the North-East of, Norusk.

Gil: “Oh yeah. Well. Let’s do this guys!”

A pair of trolls charged Magiia but their clumsy blows proved ineffective. Maggi whacked the first troll to reach her of that pair with a powerful swing of her battle-axe dropping the creature immediately, foul black ichor spattered everywhere. Two more trolls charged at the amazon leveling powerful blows with their own twisted weapons; both blows whistling by missing her by inches. The ground shook as a giant with slate-grey skin, 14 ft. tall, and with single eye on the side of its malformed head an enormous hunch rising up above its pointed skull, thumped onto the scene and swung a massively powerful blow with its two-handed iron-spiked great club at Maggi, but missed. Another pair of night-troll warriors entered the battle attacking Grom forcing him to simul-attack with an Animal Form spell (via the Battle Magic feat) instantly transforming one of the savages into a chicken which in a fluster of greasy black feathers leapt clumsily away into the darkness. The other gashed him deep opening a nasty wound. Yet another pair of trolls appeared and went at Vorwulf with a pair of mighty blows narrowly missing the ranger/dragon-slayer. Vor replied hacking a vicious wound into one of the duo of monsters that had charged him. A small group of about six trolls were engaging their guide, dancing around the giant seemingly only serving to distract him and were pushing him away as he held them at bay with his enormous boar spear separating him from the slayers. Soon the boar hunter was pushed into the dark outside of the firelight. The slayers lost sight of him. That was when they heard the baying of a pack of hounds running towards the fight, they could easily see them they were following the trolls and the Formorian (that is what the giant on the trolls’ side was). All the snarling dogs were wearing spiked collars and what amounted to studded leather armor over their backs.

Gil (Grom’s Player): “War-Dogs?”

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “They have War-Dogs with them!?”

One of the trolls on Maggi swung its sword at her but missed, she responded with a power attack dropping it in a blinding splatter of blood. The other two surrounding her swung clumsily at her as well each missing in turn as did the Formorian with its tree of a club. The single troll left on Grom took a swing but was parried, barely, by the shaman. The blow deflected from one of his bracers. Vorwulf parried the blows levied at him by the pair attacking him.

Grom: “Man! I need to get some room!”

Grom stepped back and unleashed a Wind Rush spell at his foe blasting it 100 ft. away from him. Vor hacked away at the troll he had previously hit, gore flowed over his axe up to his wrists though the monster still stood fast. One of the three remaining trolls on Maggi swung and missed, she dropped him in a single blow. Another of them swung at Maggi and the blow rang off of her axe and she turned her blade in counter and drove it through the monsters scale-mail crunching into ribs. The other threw its sword losing the weapon as it whizzed over Maggi’s head. She grinned murder at the monster. The Formorian took its chance and bashed the Ferenoi with a crushing blow, had she not been helmed the giant would’ve knocked her out. She was no longer smiling. The pair on Vor attacked again but missed badly as their impatient swings became more furious as well as clumsier. One of them also lost its grip on its heavy blade and wound up flinging it away. It was Vor’s turn to smile. With a single blow of his heavy axe Vorwulf whacked the swordless troll into two messy halves. The pack of war-hounds began to run into the battle and Grom quickened a Turn Beasts spell, every single war-dog turned tail and ran away the yelping quickly melted away into the distance.

One of the pair on Maggi swung and missed the other desperately clawed at her missing both times. The Formorian stomped on her smashing her to the ground like bug almost squashing her as it tried to pin her with its foot so it could grind the life out of her. She was badly injured. Vorwulf, after kicking the troll bisection at his feet into the campfire, chopped down the last troll within his reach. Grom tossed an alchemical grenade, an Alchemists’ Fire, onto an obviously regenerating troll body. It began to spasmodically twitch as it burned. The boar hunter was still out of sight though they could still here the clash of his boar spear against the night-trolls’ weapons.

Cris (to Gil): “Man! You know this all because of that troll book!”

Gil: “What troll book?”

Cris: “The Tome of Dragonslaying! Look! Hand me that.” Gil handed Cris the info-sheet, he got to keep it since Grom had ‘mastered’ it, for the troll-king copy of the Tome of Dragonslaying and pointed to a bit of information on it.

Cris: “Right here. ‘Troll Sense – ALL trolls within 1 square-mile will be attracted to the book’!”

Gil: “Oh. I forgot about that.”

Magiia was barely able to squeeze out and roll from under the Formorian’s club foot leaping to feet shield at the ready. Grom tossed another Alchemist’s Fire on another troll body as he neared Maggi’s position. The troll that Grom had blown a hundred feet away stood up and took its chance to flee. Vor kicked another half-troll into the fire, the air filled with the fetid stench of roasting troll-flesh and heavy, oily smoke began to fog the battlefield. The Formorian made a mighty sweep attack with its club catching Grom, Maggi, and a night-troll in the swing. The troll’s broken body took flight. Grom got hit and horribly injured. Maggi made a simultaneous attack in an attempt to drop the giant before his swing could reach her. She hacked his belly open but still took the blow which nearly killed her but the giant was hurt so she saw no reason to retreat. Vor chopped into a troll that tried to sit up. Grom ran back to try to heal himself. Maggi stepped in towards the Formorian and chopped him down with a final single blow and was able to sidestep the massive bleeding, eviscerated corpse as it came crashing down. The howl of the night-trolls was silenced. The battle was ended. Jez the Boar Hunter came bounding back into the view of the slayers; the trolls that had been keeping him busy had broken away as soon as their giant was felled jaunting off into the cover of the dark.

A downed troll near Maggi suddenly sat up. She immediately buried her axe in its skull putting it back down. They wasted no time in dousing all of the corpses, and the various severed bits, in the naphtha from the barrel of the stuff that Grom had purchased on their way out of town just a few days prior. Among the ever brightening yellow flames Maggi chopped through the log-thick neck of the Formorian severing its head after a couple of whacks ‘just in case’.

Jenn (Magiia’s Player)[Pointing at me, the GM, and with the annoying gusto of a late 90’s Gangsta Rapper]: “Ha! You tried to KILL me and I BEAT you! I killed that sucker like NOTHING! Ha! Just CUT HIM DOWN! Yeah!”

Grrr.

 

To Be Continued…

Dawn in the town of Aáhké in the land of Norusk, in their bungalow Maggia had just finished restocking her Dragon-Blood Potion supply and Vorwulf was just beginning to nurse a hang-over with plans on fetching “some hair o’ the dog” with breakfast when Grom burst in wild-eyed and full of new info. He had easily bested the corrupted trapper and sang all he knew about those who had paid him with gold minted in the far north. The shaman went on to tell the slayers about the group of adventurers that had bribed the trapper since they had desired to stay out of town and keep a low profile having him among others that trapped and hunted the far eastern parts of Norusk to purchase wagon-loads of supplies for them and deliver those to a staging area near the White Heath. The assumed enemy group consisted of the “sons of the red dragon”, led by a half-dragon human with a double-ended bipennis axe and a steel helm marked by a pair of antlers, a dragon-shaman human, a red draconian with a cloak of black feathers and strangely feathers on his leathery wings and lastly another half-dragon human, a hunter and bowman whom was the spokesman to the trappers for the whole scary lot. They were all marked with a specific scarification on their chests and foreheads but the trapper couldn’t reproduce it for the shaman.

Gil (Grom’s Player): “And that’s all he would tell me. So after the gates reopened I came back here.”

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “Let me get this straight you spent all night OUTSIDE?”

Gil: “Oh yeah. I guess I could’ve transformed into an eagle or grew some wings and flew over the wall huh?”

Cris laughed and Jenn (Magiia’s Player) face-palmed.

Grom (Played by Gil): “Y’know he wouldn’t guide us there even after I threatened to kill him. Then he ran away WEST.”

Vorwulf (Played by Cris): “That’s because they’re scarier people than you.”

Grom settled in to catch some sleep while Maggi and Vor went to the Red-Bull tavern for breakfast and beer where the Ferenoi (an Amazon from the Icefere and Feren civilization there) put a platinum piece on the counter and wanted change since all she had was platinum. After Vorwulf helped to break up her currency so she could spend it at the bar they turned and noticed the place was rapidly filling up with two groups each of a fair number. The milder group appeared to be fighting men each with an Acton quartered with white and light blue but with the lower white quarter obviously and hastily painted with red. The central charge lying at the center of each of their chests which was a pair of crossed black maces with one being spiked. Hanging from each of their belts were maces of varying quality. Maggi asked Ole’ Twist about them and he told her they were a local “security outfit” called the Black Maces which hired themselves out to guard the merchant caravans that traveled through town and those moving north and south. He pointed out their offices just down the street though she couldn’t spot the placard bearing the very same heraldry. It was then that the other group filtered in.

These were definitely a large group of former Black Soldiery, rough looking and somewhat in a general state of agitation. A couple of them bumped into the pair of Black Maces that were pitching blades and tomahawks at the toss board, the defaced wood carving of the Achaánal clan heraldry. The captain of these ruffians rudely tossed a small sack of coin on the board and ordered drinks all around for “his men” and slopped himself down at a random long-table smelling to Maggi’s nose a bit road weary. The men at the toss board were beginning to argue loudly until the brigand captain gaveled his large wood mug which he had just pulled from his pack on the table. His men relented and sat down though still mad-dogging the mercs. The tension in the place settled and the uncomfortable silence slowly retreated as all of the men began to drink. After breakfast Maggi ordered herself a second jack of whiskey. Vor settled in at a table next the bar so he could sit with his back to the wall determined to wait for the boar hunter in order to hire him as a guide to the White Heath.

Jenn [to Cris]: “Dude, aren’t you a tracker or something?”

Cris: “A ranger and we’re not in familiar territory and it’s not small.”

That was when one of the Black Maces, a little tipsy, bumped into a brigand and the brigand roaring with drunken rage lunged up and drew his sword and swung, but missed, at the Black Mace. Almost instantly the place erupted. Strangely enough nobody paid any mind to Vorwulf but Maggi stood up and used the butt of axe to assist the locals.

Vorwulf: “Man o’ man. This is going to be good.” And so he watched.

It lasted less than a minute Maggi had battered down virtually all of the brigands including their leader without even breaking a sweat. Only two from each side were actually severely wounded and were quickly dragged away by their compatriots.

Gil [to Cris]: “Wait. You were just sitting there? Drinking while they fought all around you?”

Cris [a toothy self-satisfied smile on his hairy face]: “Yup.”

Having gotten into the good graces of the Black Maces and receiving and turning down an invite to join the company consisting of the ever-inticing “we could make a lot of money together” eliciting a derisive laugh from Vorwulf, Maggi went to the market later followed by Vor to gather up various sundries the most noteworthy being a 1 gallon clay jar and some black paint. Maggi and Vor went back to the room where Vorwulf painted 6 wooden shields with the black icon of the Blackwings guild (with a Natural 20 untrained art-check btw) later he went back to his spot to wait “all day” if necessary. That night Grom stood watch at the tavern as the other two slept talking with trapper after trapper all night long finding the same answer from each when he inquired as to their services as guides and probably giving them too much information. “The White Heath is cursed and what fool would go’o dere when a dragon’s tak’n oop dere.”

It wasn’t until the next morning that the titular boar hunter had appeared, a Hill-giant dressed in a patchwork of bristly boars’ hides and a sledge full of dressed quarry. Vorwulf introduced himself in a long-winded manner titles and all then the group and the giant sat next to the tavern drinking and eating from the barrel of pickled eel Maggi had bought from a gaggle of fishermen from the shores of the freshwater Norusk sea to the northwest. They talked awhile and when the giant, named Jez, found out where they were going…

Jez the giant: “What? You want to find dragon? There!? You fools or somethin’?”

Vorwulf: “Hell Yeah! We’re dragonslayers! It’s What We Do!”

So Jez the boar hunter agreed (after the shaman paid him a large Lapis Lazuli and charmed him then Vor paid him a silver talon “for expenses”). They would meet up at high noon at the south gate; the boar hunter had some trading to do. They shortly met back up at the prescribed time and place and departed with the giant in the lead.

It was a day or so later while traveling straight east they had stumbled upon an old campsite which they assumed to be that of the Wasp and his companion The Outrider which was 5 days old according to Vorwulf’s tracking instinct just before they stopped for the night. They were in what appeared to be a wide open glade but in reality it was an area of rolling hills which rose somewhat and flattened gradually to the south, a deep hidden ridge lay to the immediate north. They set up camp in a flat area which the giant called the East Meadow. It was on first that Maggi spotted the night trolls moving rapidly towards their camp with something much larger following them and in the distance what appeared to be a large pack of hounds. It was the howls of the trolls when they realized that they had been spotted that alerted the party. The slayers sprang up and armed themselves though with not enough time to don their armor before the monsters were upon them.

 

To Be Continued…

Our intrepid heroes, the Blackwing Dragonslayers (Hirok-Nor branch), had finally found their way to the town that they were seeking which they had been given directions to TWICE after having made a wrong turn. The slayers’ strange craft floated by the ancient stone idol that stood a far way outside of the city palisade, it was chiseled into the crude shape of a grinning Satyr but the horns had been recently hammered away. The pennant flying above the open gates of the town of Aáhké bore a split field of white and red and a golden chalice with a longsword and golden mace crossing behind it. The guard loitering before the gate bore shortspears and freshly scraped round shields where the old heraldry could still be made out. The shields had borne a quartered field of white and light green with a red ram’s head being the central charge, the banner of the Achaánal clan but had been scraped and probably sanded. The presumed captain of the guard stepped forward to greet the incoming strangers his shield did have a fresh coat of red and white paint on its face. Vorwulf using his magic helmet halted the magic hovercraft. The guards were a homogenous mix of human, faun, and hill giant common to the Hill-Lands and were puzzled by the adventurers’ weird vehicle but not disturbed.

Vorwulf [Played by Cris]: “Is there a healer or a White Star Guild in this town?”

The Captain of the Guard [pointing at Magiia]: “If ya need help for your friend see the priest, Norwe, he might be able to help. What’s wrong with her? Doesn’t look like Marsh Fire.”

Grom [Played by Gil]: “She got bit by a Lindwurm.”

Vorwulf: “Dragon-venom.”

The captain shook his head knowingly and directed them to the Wayman’s Camp and the Travelers’ Inn not far inside the gates. Vorwulf caught sight of a prison-wagon, as this town apparently lacked a proper jail, across from the inn and a familiarly colored cloak from between its iron bars. He approached to get a better look at the person bundled underneath the black and yellow striped cloak. To his disappointment it wasn’t Xanto the wasp but rather an old faun vagrant. The pathetic old drunk told them that a young wizard gave him his cloak as he left town about two days ago along with someone he called “the outrider”. Soon after that the adventurers had already paid for a room (4 gp per night) and leaving Maggi in the room both Grom and Vor had made their way into the market place where all of the early season merchants were set up.

In the small market place they found that there were no permanent storefronts but a collection of wagons most of which opened up to show-off the goods for sale. They found the usual collection of snake-oil salesmen, weapons dealers, and local produce especially fish and eels. They quickly found they couldn’t understand anyone there so the shaman “chugged down” a potion of Comprehend Languages. He instantly realized that they were speaking Westlander, the native language of our heroes, but with an extremely heavy Hill-Lander accent. They quickly find a trader in alchemical gear and potions. Vorwulf picks up 2 potions of fire protection and 3 alchemist kits paying with 75 gold pieces and a pair of large emeralds. Grom the shaman got 1 potion of Purification and 3 alchemist kits but then charmed the salesman getting a discount putting down 4 aquamarines and 160 gold pieces.

Cris: “Man! You wanted a DISCOUNT! You know rich we are! Like when I was trying to get that info from the wasp CHEAP and you threw down those diamonds!” (see the Dragonslayers II Pt. 2)

So Vorwulf tossed 4 rubies into the merchant’s eager hand as “f*@# you money”.

They returned shortly to their room, more a bungalow really, and gave Maggi the 6 alchemist kits. The shaman gave her the Purification potion which after she drank it seemed to have an effect as her shaking immediately stopped but in retrospect the shaman realized later that it couldn’t have done anything for her. The Ferenoi immediately leapt to her feet and snatched up a kit and began brewing Dragon-Blood Potion. The other two left her to her labors as they departed tot eh tavern which was almost directly across the street adjacent to the town cistern. A red bull on a white field adorned the pennant that hung from a post that faced the muddy winding street.

The Red Bull tavern was under a semi-permanent canopy of oiled-leather that extended from an open counter of a longhouse which served as the kitchen and bar for the place as well as the proprietor’s home. The tented portion of the tavern was held by a perimeter of evenly spaced poles set into a floor of flat stones held by packed earth and clay and the sides were roll-up panels or flaps. The flaps were all currently rolled up leaving the place practically open-air. The place already had a few rough-looking fur-clad dirty faced trappers drinking their breakfasts. Several others, obviously fighters, well-equipped were doing the same the heraldry on their actons was a pair of crossed black maces one spiked against a quartered field of light blue with one white and one red quarter. By himself near the bar sat another trapper with a full meal in front of him and counting a copious number of gold coins. Vorwulf immediately approached him asking him if he would hire on with them as a guide. He replied with a backwater accent in bad Westlander saying he would but the shaman sensing something not quite right with him said he would “like a second opinion” about the direction the shifty looking woodsman would take. Grom pulled his friend from the table to the counter.

Next to the counter mounted to the wood-log wall of the house was a painted carving of the arms of the Achaánal Highlander clan on a round shield. It was badly defaced and studded with various throwing implements, throwing daggers, darts, and tomahawks. The barkeep was a bulky and tall old faun nicknamed ‘Ole Twist’ due to his badly deformed and twisted horns gained form a childhood bout of Twist Horn, a disease which is often lethal to young fauns of the Hill-Lands. Over the hearth which could be seen from the bar-counter in the corner of the kitchen area hung a Satyr Blade, a double ended sword with each of the blades curved like a scimitar, which was notched up and down both of the wicked looking blades. They found the man friendly enough, an old adventurer, especially since the first thing that Vor did was slap down a platinum piece on the soggy bar.

Ole Twist told them about a more reliable guide known only to him as “the Boar Hunter”, a Hill-Giant that spends all of his time in the wilderness “somewhere abouts” Black Boar’s Heath just south of the White Heath they were asking after. The wasp had been in town for a short while and looking for a guide the one he found was hardly reputable, a traitor who had been a sell-sword for the Achaánal clan during the rebellion against their rule but he was tolerated due to the amount of gold and silver he spent around town. He was a ratling known as “the Outrider” who rode a war-goat.

Ole Twist: “The lil’ turd don’t fight fair with his feet o’ the ground but from o’ back o’ da goat wid’a spear, canna ya believe dat?”

After a few jacks of ale and a few more of some decent Hill-Lander whiskey Vor bought “something special” from the old goat, a bottle of carved glass with a ruby stopper. The contents of which seemed to whirl and surge of their own accord though Ole Twist said that it was whiskey of a “pow’ful vintage”. He described to Vorwulf the bottle contained a Whiskey Elemental, he had taken it as a share of some loot from an adventure a long time ago and it was only now that someone happened by with the wealth to buy it. He packed it away and sat down to finish the remainder of the booze he purchased prior. The shaman took off to the market again to buy some more potions buying out the alchemist of his Alchemist Fires. As dusk came both Vorwulf and Grom stumbled into the bungalow at the inn and found Maggi back to her full capacities. Vorwulf slopped into his bed. The shaman got Maggi to pry herself away from her work, she was brewing the rest of the Lindwurm-blood into Dragon-Blood Potions, long enough for her to buy a carved glass bottle of some “good stuff” from Ole Twist and while she went back to the room to continue her alchemical task which she did until dawn, the shaman decided to follow the shiesty woodsman that he and Vor had talked to earlier who was now thoroughly drunk.

Gil: “Don’t worry guys this’ll be easy.”

The shaman’s quarry immediately noticed he was being followed and shot off towards the West Gate with Grom in hot pursuit. Just as the town gates were being closed they both dashed out into the dark and that’s when the trapper turned and pulled out his dagger in one hand and his battleax in the other.

 

To Be Continued…

Come noon the mysterial-rowboat was zooming along Barbarian’s Tread between the North Forest to the east and the ever thickening tree-line what was rapidly becoming The Left Wood to the west. By sundown they were going to be at their destination, the town of Aáhké, barring anything unexpected happening. Suddenly, just ahead of them a massive tree crashed onto the road. Vorwulf stopped the boat with a hard jolt throwing them all forward and Vorwulf almost head over heels out onto the ground. Another fell across the road behind them sealing them in the narrow cut between the trees of the two forests that served as the road. There were punji stakes studding the trunks of the fallen trees. Bursting from the bushes and from behind trunks were around twenty highwaymen, most had trained loaded crossbows on the adventurers. The thugs were fairly well-armed the cheap black paint on their weapons and shields showing heavy with large swaths rubbed nearly clean and the black dye in their leathers and hides fading into a sickly grey.

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “Must be some of those ex-black-soldier guys.”

Their leader sauntered into the road before the slayers with a smug look on his face which disappeared as soon as he caught full sight of the Blackwings’ weird vehicle. He then noticed Magiia was very ill; shivering with large streams of snot running down her face. The robbers immediately backed off panicked shouts of “plague” erupted from their ranks as they attempted to make the most space possible between them and the perceived plague-carriers barely able to prevent themselves from fleeing. Grom, the shaman, confirmed their fears acknowledging, falsely, that indeed she did have the plague. He feigned a slight cough. Almost shaking the leader waved his arms and the road blocking log ahead of them lifted up from the road, they could hear more hidden bandits heaving. A strong rope was tied to its top end as it stood on end disappearing into the tree line on one side of the road. The head-highwayman began waving them through and shouting at them in a heavy Hill-Lander accent, “Begone! Get da’ hell OUTTA here! Gew!” So the slayers did as they were told and sped off laughing all the way. Vor contemplated the apparent wasp-stings he had spied that were spattered over some of the bandits’ faces and necks.

Come evening, the boat was stopped and setting in the embankment among the bushes while Vorwulf looked about for a suitable campsite. He found a spot and went back over to the other two when he spotted, and just barely, a serpentine dragon stealthily gliding over the treetops directly at the rowboat and the sickly Maggi. He shouted to alert the others. Maggi sprang to life and snatched up a short-spear and her shield. Grom tried to identify exactly what species the dragon was but failed. Vorwulf quick drew his composite longbow and shot at the monster with a dragonbone arrow which it instantly knocked aside midair. Maggi chucked her spear missing by a mile and losing the weapon in the bush. The dragon swooped by in a flyby attack, its talon strike thwarted by Maggi’s shield. Grom called down lightning from the sky which had no effect when it struck the dragon’s hide. Vor shot another dragonbone arrow which was swatted down by the monster’s tail. Maggi grabbed a javelin and threw it at the beast. It barely parried the weapon, the javelin stuck into the dirt of the road. The dragon turned in midair and threw itself fanged maw agape directly at Magiia. She met it with a shield bash wounding it badly even in her weakened state but also taking a nasty bite at the same time. She found instantly that the creature was venomous. Bolts of lightning struck down once again on the beast dealing little damage. Another dragonbone arrow shot at the monster but this time found its home. The dragon crashed into the trees about a hundred away from the rowboat. Without missing a beat Maggi downed a Neutralize Poison potion and ran to the giant, bleeding corpse Alchemist’s Kit in hand.

Vorwulf, after getting a good look at the thing, recognized it as a Lindwurm, a native species of the Hill-Lands which usually preys on livestock, and probably the one the trappers had warned them of. Grom cut off the dragon’s nose horn. Maggi struggled with the shakes and her own impatience as she attempted to brew up at least a single dose of Dragon-Blood Potion, she failed using up the materials of the entire kit. To say the least she was a little disappointed but she still had the presence of mind to fill up all eight of her empty potion bottles with the creature’s blood. It was near dawn by the time Maggi finally collapsed back into her place at the rear of the rowboat. It was third watch and Grom the shaman was sitting on a log by the glowing embers of the dying fire.

The chance sound of a snapping twig alerted him to a presence very near him. He looked over his shoulder and only about a dozen feet away coming out of the tree-line were a small group of black-skinned trolls were trying to sneak up on him and when they noticed they were spotted silently melted back into the bush. They were long gone by the time the shaman had woken the others. Vorwulf waited till first light and found their tracks guessing there had been at least four trolls. Soon after that they were again on their way. After a few hours and enduring a slight drizzle they came to a fork in the road, a gibbet and a rotting corpse to great them.

Vorwulf: “Crap. Which way? North or East?”

They had broken the tree-line about 20 miles ago passing a rough, stone monolith engraved with the spiral horn symbol of the Old Satyrs, the elder gods of the Hill-Lands, a signpost that they were now in the Norusk region. They found themselves coasting over a rolling grassland along the well-traveled dirt road with the trees of the North Forest less than a mile or two to the right (south). They inspected the corpse hanging from the gallows at the fork. It was the corpse of a full-blown Satyr the remains of his Acton emblazoned with a red ram’s head on a quartered field of white and light green. The rope stretching its neck was fashioned from a knotted tartan sash. It looked as if the body had been there for a full season at least.

Grom [referring to the emblem]: “Why is that familiar?”

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “Wait! I have Speak with Dead on my helmet!”

Vorwulf [using the gold helmets second ability]: “Which way to Norusk.”

The Corpse: “You are here.”

Vorwulf: “Which way to the nearest town then.”

The Corpse [lifting its decayed arm to point to the North]: “Traitors to the right [North].”

Grom: “Come across any giant mushrooms?”

The Corpse: “Seasonal on the cursed White Heath.”

Magiia [to Vorwulf]: “What was he hung for?”

The Corpse: “For being of the Achaánal, there was a rebellion.”

Vorwulf: “Know of a red dragon in the area?”

The Corpse: “No.” With that the putrid thing went limp and its horned head dropped back to its chest.

Cris: “Well, I guess we go right then.”

It wasn’t long, a few minutes at most but a distance of about 6 miles, before they came to another fork in the road. The road continued west and spurred off to the northeast.

Vorwulf: “Okay. Now which way are we goin’”

They unanimously voted for the left so Vor mentally steered their strange craft along the northeast spur. A ruined stone keep atop a low hill soon rose before them. There was no town or anything living for that matter in sight.

 

To Be Continued…

The beginning of spring, the morning sun was golden bright and peaking over the silver-grey clouds that still lagged along the horizon. The slayers began preparations for their trek north along Barbarian’s Tread into Norusk on the hunt for the red-dragon lord of Grom’s visions. Magiia was in bad shape, sweating and shivering. She had run out of Dragon’s Blood Potions and was jonesing. Bad. She had stretched her supply as far as it could have possibly have gone over the past few weeks in anticipation of the spring melt running out completely the just week before. She was well into the first stage of withdrawals. While she convalesced on a table in the Hopping Rat Vorwulf wrangled the horses and kit into the tavern stable. Grom made arrangements for Kyrahma, his hound, with his protégé Og while he was away. Olf had parted a few days hence as the shaman had failed in his efforts to convince the healer to stay with the guild. It would be the last they would ever see of the Arborean. The slayers had re-hired Ebor the bartender to mind the Rat and he began to wipe up and get things in order from the utter mess left behind by a very busy winter. While in the stable Vor sent off a Magical Pigeon from the guild scroll they had been given in Chago upon joining to the Blackwing guild master there.

The message had been, “Starting to build guildhouse. Need experts, trap-builders, vault-makers, top stone masons, castle engineer, pigeon-keeper; send immediately to Merdna. On Red Dragon Hunt, Trollguard, spring. Vorwulf.”

After, Vorwulf galloped off on a horse while the shaman tried to figure what to do to ease Maggi’s pain in the meantime. He found that he could do nothing. Vor returned in less than an hour dragging with him a simple row boat. The shaman was puzzled so Vor told him that he was planning to use the jeweled gold closed helmet taken from the Skulls (see the Dragonslayers I Pt.37) which had the Mysterial Chariot ability on it allowing him to cause the boat to be enchanted and levitate about 5 ft. in the air and travel at a very brisk pace. They were going to brave the spring rains and have to deal with a lot of mud, it could take up to 3 weeks by horse. This was their best option.

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “It’s essentially a magic hover-vehicle.”

Gil (Grom’s Player): “Coool.”

They began loading up the row boat in the staging area, the small courtyard between the stables and the tavern lastly depositing Maggi and her gear. As they made their final preparations a merchant and his fully loaded wagon rolled up.

The merchant appeared to be Hill-Lander bearing the embroidered image of a blue-bull against a green field on his chest as well as a tartan sash over his shoulder. He was selling various grades of whiskey so Vor purchased 1 barrel of whiskey and a cask of the merchant’s “best” for 1,880 gold pieces. The merchant, the only name they got from him was Aáhdrahké (a-AH-draw-KAY), after the sale trundled off without a word. He seemed a little snobby and was not forthcoming to any of the slayers’ questions. Fortunately another friendlier Hill-lander merchant approached them with his wagon which was loaded with several hogshead of strong ale. On his chest was embroidered a white rabbit with a silver tankard on its back against a green field, the same was painted on all of the hogsheads. They didn’t bother to get his name though he gave the name of his boss, Craftsman Banik of Baáchkul (bah-AH-kool), a brewer from Aáhké, a town, basically the only town, in Norusk. Vorwulf asked for directions to the town after asking after the dragon, which the ale-seller revealed that no one has yet seen a dragon but they know it’s there due to the forest fires to the northeast of Aáhké. As for directions they were to “go north along Barbarian’s Tread, take the north road at Gallow’s Fork and stay west ‘til you run inta’ town”. Vor purchased 2 hogshead of ale for 800 gold pieces and the talkative seller went on his way.

Shortly after that with a better idea of where they were going the shaman jumped into the boat and Vor took up his position at the bow and activated the helmet. The boat rose and then shot forward moving very fast, the still chilly but moist air blasted into their faces. Magiia was huddled against the transom bundled up in furs and blankets. Her nose was running and she was groaning with severe stomach cramps. Grom intending to read for the duration of the trip reached into his Bag of Holding and pulled out Blackbrow’s spellbook, the one covered in chromatic-yellow dragon hide, but was already familiar with its contents so he deposited back into the bag and instead pulled out the Tome of Dragonslaying. They had yet to get it open, the first thing he noticed was that there were no locks, the animated troll face on its iron bound cover was not pleased.

The jeweled eyes of the thing menaced him as it slung insult after revolting insult in his face and when that failed to dissuade Grom from trying to open it, it glowed red hot burning his hands. A little miffed the shaman convincingly threatened to burn it. It immediately relented and opened itself. It was then that the shaman realized that either the thing believed itself to be an actual troll or it was animated by the imprisoned spirit of a formerly living troll. The first thing he found in the tome was a song titled, “The Epic of Red-Tooth Dragonbane”, a very well-known bit of pop-culture throughout all of Ar along with a colored crest of a tower enwrapped by the coils of a black serpentine dragon surrounded by mutli-colored stars, it was identical to the crest on the Ring of Dragon Protection that had once been Bers’ but which now Maggi wears (see The Dragonslayers I Pt.28). It was apparently the oldest entry in the book. He flipped through the vellum pages and found some invocations: Protection from Dragons, the counterspell for Expel from Lair, and Track Enemy (Dragons only). When flipped the next page after the last spell he found another, apparently the newest entry in the book. The spell was titled “Draught of the Dragon’s Soul”. He was able to identify it as a Spell of Legend. He seriously contemplated trying to use it.

Gil: “This is cool, I’m gonna do this.”

Cris: “Dude it turns you EVIL.”

Gil (flipping through the Great Grimoire: Book of Spells Vol.I): “I don’t see that here. I’m gonna do it when we kill that dragon.”

Cris (pointing out the applicable passage in his copy): “See. Right there. The recipient of the benefits of this spell gains an evil alignment automatically.”

Gil: “I dunno, it might be worth it.”

Cris: “Dude. It’s an EVIL spell you’re feeding off of a dragon’s SOUL.”

Gil: “Oh. Well, guess not then.”

In no time the slayers’ transport was passing through the gates of Fertum Vorahd, the long banners on either side bearing the gold-horned white ram against a green field wafted in the breeze. Magiia’s eyes were rolling blindly around in her head. It was still mid-morning; it had taken only about 10 minutes to get from Merdna to the Fertum. The guards were a little taken aback by the strangeness of their vehicle which as soon as Vor had walked into Lord Vorahd’s manor dropped with a slap to the ground with Maggi still twisted in her sweat-moistened bundle.

The shaman and Vor walked into the main hall where Vorahd was waving a sword around apparently bored while a scribe worked on a pile of documents spread over the heavy wooden feasting table. He was very happy to see the slayers especially the shaman whom he embraced heartily. Vorwulf got the shaman to ask the lord for the deed to Ekit’s Watch, in his own name not the guild’s “just in case”, which the relieved old lord had his scribe attend to. They were to pay 100,000 gold pieces for the deed and pay a flat 100 gold piece annual tax to Lord Vorahd’s tax-collectors. Vorahd warned them that the Merdna Elder Council also laid claim to that land but to “nevermind them it’s mine plain and simple”. That business concluded they gave Lord Vorahd the two ebony staffs with skull toppers, the blue-steel pike, and the blood-metal longsword.

Gil & Jenn (Magiia’s Player): “What? We’re not gonna try to sell ‘em to him?”

Cris: “Naw. You don’t know how RICH we are right now, it’s just geesh.”

Outside as they prepared to leave from the Fertum following the northwesterly Barbarian’s Tread into Norusk, Vor found a traveling alchemist trying to ply his wares and purchased all of his available healing potions with a large emerald and a ruby. He also asked the trappers that had just arrived if they had any information concerning the road they were about to embark on. The trappers said there was dragon-sign mostly Grayling and Lindwurm. The Lindwurm was further north several days however. Vorwulf had to consult his dragon-lore to figure out what a Lindwurm was. It was a native dragon of the Hill-Lands which primarily predated the herds of the hillmen. It was essentially a winged serpent with a pair of eagle-like talons and that it was:

Cris: “Venomous. Great.”

Jenn: “It’s what, poisonous? What about its breath?”

Cris: “It’s got a poison bite instead, so don’t get bit.”

The slayers jumped into the boat and soon enough they were off. Maggi was hanging her head overboard to be violently ill.

Jenn: “Man we need to find a dragon quick!”

The slayers in their weird little vehicle whizzed out of the Fertum’s north gate onto Barbarian’s Tread, trees on either side. Magiia hung her head over the side and wretched.

 

To Be Continued…

A day after arriving safely home in the Hopping Rat in the city of Merdna, the slayers identified and split the loot acquired in the Blackbrow expedition. They drank ale, Og & Trasknor (Grom’s & Vorwulf’s protégés respectively) had purchased 3 hogshead during their absence (just in case), while gathered around a table in the currently deserted taproom, a snowstorm roared outside. Among the gear of note they found that the vampire-faced helmet was a Creator Level 10 item with the constant Blood Sense and constant Vampire’s Kiss abilities.

The black bearded-axe was a Creator Level 8 item with the constant Blood Thirst and blood drain (1D6 bleeding damage on a critical strike) abilities on it. The black full-plate armor was a Creator Level 12 item with the constant Aura of the Dead and Sanguinary Reprieve (2 x day) abilities. Frankly, they had no idea as to what to do with the “evil things”. The skull staffs, one taken from Zancor the one-armed and the other with tourmaline eyes found in a secret compartment, were Creator Level 25 items both with the Whisper (3 x day) ability with the gem-set one also having the Tele-location (3 x day) ability tied to the one that had been Zancor’s.

Cris (Vorwulf’s Player): “Oh. Okay. So, the jeweled one can locate the other one. Makes sense.”

After taking possession of the items that they wanted or could use out of the pile the slayers decided the Ring of Animate Armor and the Ring of Animate Statue sifted from the lich’s ashes were to be “treasuried”. The rest they would sell when they got the chance. Upon getting into the guild treasury in the secret compartment in the taverns cellar they found all of the coinage and gems missing from the 3 chests within. Vorwulf ranted something about “damned” ratlings for some minutes. The group went back up to the tap room and pulled up to a table.

Grom (Played by Gil): “So, there Magiia. Where’s my alchemists’ fires?” (see the Dragonslayers III Pt.4)

Magiia (Played by Jenn): “Ummm. Uh.”

Jenn: “I roll a Bluff check!”

Grom easily saw through Magiia’s ruse though she was able to talk around the issue and stall until Vorwulf convened a second meeting, “guild business” this time.

They had a discussion about building their guild house and acquiring the land needed to do so around the Hopping Rat tavern still hoping to simply expand that building. Ultimately since Vorwulf held the titles of (unofficial) Guildmaster/(official) Alderman he would be the one to go to the Civil Authorities’ Hall to talk to the officials about purchasing the deeds and the permission/documents needed to begin the construction of their guildhouse as soon as the weather would allow. Shortly after high noon the snow stopped and Vorwulf left for the civic hall with Grom in tow, a different mission on his mind. Shortly after their departure Magiia left to keep an appointment leaving Olf in the company of the protégés.

Vorwulf found himself in a small meeting room at a table with a scribe, a city warder charged with what was essentially city-planning and contracts. It took a few hours for Vorwulf to work out the details with the city warder to gain the deeds from the properties around the Hopping Rat especially since the slayers’ neighbors are looking to sell to the drastic increase in the occurrence of particularly destructive street fights in their vicinity. The guild was offered the lease to the West Gate and the opportunity to build their guildhouse around it like the Woodcutters’ and Clothworkers’ guilds for 10,000 gold pieces down and 12,000 a year. Vorwulf took it. There were also stipulations in the lease that they had to use the city architect and hire from the resident manpower of Merdna barring any special services that cannot be had within the city. Vorwulf set 5 large emeralds on the table for the down and went about hiring woodcutters, blacksmiths, the architect, 100 general laborers, and arranged for the importation of masoned stones from Sirti in all spending 26,250 gp with 50 gp recurring per month for the laborers and 1,200 gp recurring per season for the master architect.

Grom in the meantime had hired the stockade located in the civic hall. After the jailor left him to his own devices the shaman pulled out the corked bottle that contained the snail named Kyrahma. He took the snail out and set it on the floor of the cell afterwards closing and barring the wood door. Through the small barred window in the door he kept eye contact with the miniscule creature and released the spell that had kept the rogue Feren berserk in that form.  Instantly she was again herself though stark naked and extremely angry. Foaming at the mouth she immediately kicked at the door. The wood bowed and splintered. The door held but could not take another blow like that without completely shattering. Grom cast Animal Form again upon the Amazonian and instantly she was reduced to a dog.

Gil: “I want to have her as a pet.”

A little while later the three slayers met up in the street and snow in blue gloaming of evening approaching the warm yellow light of the tavern, Vor with the contracts and deeds in hand, Grom accompanied by a fine hound and Magiia with a package a tall as she was. Together they entered the Hopping Rat. When he saw them, Vorwulf stopped dead in his tracks; the ratling adventurers, the “tat-eyes” were gathered around a table drinking. They were decked out in new very expensive looking clothes and were sporting new jewelry that glittered in the lamplight.

Vorwulf surveyed the taproom and saw no other ratlings hanging abouts. He made beeline to the cellar and brought back a dusty bottle of high quality wine the seal of the gryphon stamped into the glass of the bottle and slammed it onto the ratlings’ table.

Vorwulf: “Compliments of the house.”

The Mantck ratling (a medium-sized ratling from the Poisonwood) spoke tossing aside his cape of red feathers: “Don’t worry our underlings won’t molest your customers.” A wide verminous smile spread over his rodentine features.

Vorwulf took a seat, Grom kept an eye on them from his place at the bar. Maggi was busy pulling the oilskin wrapper from her package revealing a portrait in a fine frame oblivious to the current situation. Vorwulf offers the ratlings 1 platinum piece as an “insurance payment” and offering it per year to which the Mantck, named Nomet Redblade, reacted very favorably. Vor demanded a contract since the ratlings had already taken their “down payment” referring to the repeated plundering of the treasury. They were soon working out a formal contract where the ratlings were going to provide a level of special security & insurance for all of the holdings of the Blackwings guild of Merdna. On top of the down for the “ratling insurance” Vorwulf also tossed 1 gold and 1 platinum talon on the table as a “retainer for future services”. Nomet whistled through his fingers after the contract was signed. Trasknor shouted to Vorwulf from behind the bar. There was a horde of ratlings vacating the building out the secret back door from an unseen passage presumably up from the cellar. With that the ratlings shared the wine with the ranger/dragon-slayer and then took their leave shortly thereafter.

Maggi finished hanging her portrait on the west wall between the windows and admired it. It was a portrayal of her with her foot on the headless bleeding corpse of a dragon, the muscles of her half-naked body glistening under a heroic sunset as she lifted the dragon’s severed head, the resemblance of her lost axe in her other hand. It was a masterwork indeed.

To Be Continued…