A Giant in Xuun Pt.3: The Swamp Venture

Heraldry of Woodcutters' Guild caravan that the trio waylaid in the swamp3 days had passed since the trio of “goodfellows” had traversed Xuun’s bazaar and outfitted with their new gear the trio finds themselves in the swamp astride a crude log raft piloted by one Gator-Tooth a swamper leatherback with tattoos over his bald sun-baked pate in a crocodile skin vest and canvas pantaloons. At its head serving his role as fearless leader, Zevor the Westlander rogue, and filling out the rest of the motley crew3 more rogues dressed similarly in studded black leathers and a Westlander mage dressed in a brown robe with gold trim serving as mercenary.

The small party of desperados had sat sweating on the wet logs of the raft in a reeking swamp located somewhere in Gorloc hidden in steaming shadow as the wilting dripping canopy of the marsh was thick enough to completely blot out even the noonday sun. The party was currently on edge as they had already braved giant constrictors that prowled the green waters and giant spiders the size of large dogs which dropped from the black sagging canopy.

The raft ran into a shallow and skidded roughly onto a sand-bar quite a distance from the barely visible shore. Nezor and Gator-Tooth hopped into the waist-high (for Gator-Tooth anyway) opaque waters, a thick film of bright green slime clung to their clothes as they dragged the raft onto the shore to allow the others a dry disembarkation.

Gator-Tooth (to Nezor): “Watch yer-self! Leeches everywhere!”

As soon as the old leatherback hit the sand-clay shore he immediately began to search himself and scrape several fairly large black leeches from his belly and arms with his broad-bladed bowie-knife. Nezor just shrugged, his hide was too thick for the tiny black specks to even try to bite him. He hefted the few water-tight barrels the crew had brought with them onto the shore and into their newfound campsite.

It was up to Gator-Tooth to set up a hasty camp while the rest of the party, the rogues and the “goodfellows” huddled around Zevor to hear his plans. The ambush spot would be scouted tonight by himself and two of his three rogues, the ambush would be tomorrow at first light, he tried to smooth the “goodfellows’” dander with a typically greasy smile and an open-palmed gesture then when that didn’t do it he pulled a rare and expensive timepiece from his studded leathers. He went back over everyone’s role and discussed positioning.

Come morning the rogues and Zevor took up their positions with crossbows ready as did Cantra with her bow, all out of sight in a large clump of broad-leafed bushes. Phenox was just off the narrow black road in a grass-choked ditch with weapons ready. Nezor was leaning against a thick warty tree waiting for Zevor’s signal to step out onto the road blocking the caravan-wagons. They were waiting for a caravan of 3 wagons bearing arms that consisted of a field split per fess with a winged lion against a blue field atop a white lotus against black. Nezor spotted a mossy sand-stone boulder in a mass of wet reeds and murky green water in a pit-pond to the side of the road. He had a plan.

It was a few hours later when the sounds of steel clad wagon wheels sloughing through sticky black mud and the huffing of horses could finally be heard coming up the road. It wasn’t long after that the beleaguered and mud-laden wagons came into the thieves’ hungry view. Zevor had yet to give the signal but eager to put his plan into motion Nezor leapt out from behind his tree chuckling stupidly as he chucked a boulder at the lead wagon.

The boulder crashed into wagon’s side pushing it into a water-filled ditch hopelessly stranding it. It was only then that the impatient giant could see that it was in fact, a gypsy caravan. The southern-nomads scattered and fled like cockroaches before him disappearing into the overgrowth. The other wagons immediately began reeling and took off down an invisible side-path and the boulder-crippled wagon slowly sank. It was another hour or so before their actual target rumbled into view. Zevor gave the signal, the sly hoot of a swamp owl. So with a disappointed sigh, the hill-giant did his part and stepped out onto the road.

That was when Nezor saw that an Ivoran Knight in full chainmail and a ranger with full kit were leading the wagons, both mounted. With utter calm they signaled the wagons to stop. The knight clacked shut his great helm’s visor.

Nezor (Played by me): “We’re here to liberate da’ gold!”

The Knight (lowering his lance): “Prepare yourself filthy giant!”

The shady mage that Zevor had brought along fumbled his spell and Phenox moved from his position trying to sneak around and flank the knight. The teamsters on the wagons became the first victims of Zevor’s and his rogue’s bolts. With a ringing shing the ranger drew his paired short-swords leapt from the back of his horse and charged grim-warrior Phenox. Nezor immediately charged the knight and dismounted him with a single mighty metal-crunching swing of his club. The knight immediately leapt up and in a single movement drew his long-sword.

A fighter from the rear of the wagon-train began to charge at the giant. Crossbow bolts and arrows flew in a brief but harrowing exchange. The mercenary mage cast a spell at the Ivoran knight but he was able to apparently shake off the malignant sorcery. A teamster shrieked and fell dead from the lead wagon. The knight struck with a savage swing against Nezor scoring his new suit of hide armor badly and barely touching the giant’s flesh beneath. The charging fighter hit the giant with a blow from his battle-axe but only managed to hack into the crocodile’s hide. The knight followed up with another armor chopping blow from his broad-bladed long-sword.

Phenox was engaged in his desperate duel with the ranger and another fighter, Cantra was somewhere unseen, while crossbow bolts continued to fly and occasionally when a fighter or teamster wandered too near the bushes, one of Zevor’s rogues would shoot out of nowhere and stab them in the back or slit their throats. The fighter wielding his axe against the Hill-giant fell with a bolt in his back. The merc-mage finally dropped a fighter with an acid type spell. The knight renewed his attacks against Nezor and the giant replied with a smashing two-handed club swing flinging his broken corpse off into the dark of the swamp.

Phenox dropped the ranger; the fighters were picked off as they began to flee. The battle was over. In the end the rogues and the goodfellows made away with 1 large mithral chest covered in runes and locked with a large iron lock and another very large and heavy chest, unlocked, and 10 superior quality spears found in one of the wagons. Nezor was a bit put off as his new armor was pretty badly, at least in his estimation, damaged though it had performed admirably especially against the knight’s weapon.

The armor was that he had made from the hide of a giant crocodile. It was gleaming brown spotted with black scales in places and covered the giant almost completely from his knees to his shoulders. The helm expertly crafted from the beast’s skull and head had come complete with polished black-wood carven eyes. The giant was proud of his new outfit and very pleased with its performance in battle he just hadn’t thought that it would take such punishment.

He refused to move any of the chests as the entire party of thieves struggled even with crudely fashioned bar-hoist which had snapped at first lift. Zevor had to pay the stubborn giant up front, 100 gold pieces to get him to pick them both up and take them to the camp, which he did with ease almost as soon as the coin dropped into his massive palm.

To Be Continued…

A Giant in Xuun Pt.2: Walking the Bazaar

The Whiskey Troll Tavern was a-buzz with the noise of conversation, sinister and riotous laughter, and the loutish shrieks and yells of its loyal but filthy patrons. Floating just above the clamor barely able to take wing in the thick sea of lamp-yellowed pipe-smoke were the sweet banjo notes of a doshpuluur (a 3-string long-necked lute) and its turtle-shell sound-box as a bard plied his trade. The young bard was dressed in the half-brown, half-green colors of the Bardic College at Ezmer bearing also the school’s mark, a golden acorn with a ram’s horn curling about it, on his breast. He was singing a traditional song which involved something about a maiden and a dragon somewhere in the Marshes of Gorloc. Nezor threw with some force a handful of gold coins at the musician leaving a few marks on the young man’s forehead. The bard was happy for the coin however and pausing, stooped to collect them from the damp, filth be-speckled flagstones.

Black Hoods before the Bazaar

Phenox worked the raw skull of the half-giant, the blue-boar, fashioning it into a helmet for himself. He was quietly chatting with Cantra, dressed in parti-color, about a group of Scaels that had just slithered in; one was lurking in the shadows. Corvo-Doom burst into the place making his way to a table by way of a wide angry stride his minions and shield-man in tow. His Ivoran shield-man bore a heavy spiked gold longshield bearing the image of a severed demonic head with a crown atop it and rimmed with demonic-script.

The night shapes up to be another in a long string of loud, vacuous, and uninteresting nights tinged with a strange and looming paranoia. Cantra eventually decided to retire to her apartment. Not soon after she had retired than Zevor the swamper pulled up a stool to table where Nezor continued to drink and eat and the Grim Warrior Phenox continued to carve. The Ivoran swamper set down a bucket of whiskey then sat after scooping some up in his jack.

Zevor: “They treatin’ ya right here?”

Nezor (played by me): “Well, ah ain’t droonk ye’eht!”

The swamper goes on to talk about some “highwayman work” somewhere in the swamp north of town. Nezor seemed a little interested but his ears perked up when Zevor, as if sensing what would properly motivate the giant, mentioned that the caravan was hauling a stash of “unearned” cash and certain “stolen” items. It was “vital to certain concerned citizens of Xuun” that they, meaning the tinder and gear, be “liberated”. Nezor mulled it over for about an hour while Zevor covered the tab. In the end the giant agreed and volunteered his companions whom he referred to as the “goodfellows”.

By about midnight Nezor had passed out drunk. It seemed that as soon as his eyes slid closed the screams of the “goodfellows” yanked him into the full blinding gold-light of morning out from his peaceful stupor. He was awoken to three human black-hoods armed with short-swords raised stood around his table and his prostrate figure. The dark shape of Phenox flew into the fray leaping on a tabletop and slashing away with his paired scimitars separating a hooded head from black draped shoulders.

Another slashed at Phenox’s legs but missed and the other stabbed Nezor in the side renting a hole in his cowhide jerkin. A ratling streaked from the shadows and slashed at Cantra with its dagger but she evaded the oiled blade easily. Yet another ratling made an appearance and this one buried its dagger to the hilt in Phenox’s side.

The Hill-Giant snatched up his club ‘dog-smasher’ and with a mighty sweep forced one of the human thugs to dodge out of the way clobbering the other and launching his corpse through the air into the dark inner reaches of the tavern.

The ratling on Cantra nicked her with its blade. The other on Phenox lashed out missing then quickly backed away. Phenox slashed at the creature in response but it dodged away disappearing into shadow. Cantra whipped out her bowie-knife and stabbed her tiny chittering foe wounding it badly.

The remaining human hood nailed Phenox with his weapon and Nezor immediately took him out with a sudden sickly wooden thud followed by an explosion of blood and gore. Cantra’s little foe struck at her but she avoided the blade and as it turned to flee she stuck it in the back killing it. The trio noticed that these thugs’ hoods were of fine black leather this time.

After looting the corpses of coin the trio makes their way to Xuun’s bazaar. The wide avenue was noisy with the clatter of people and wagons as the traffic jammed up under the continuous cloth awnings on both sides and the masses of vendor-carts and produce laden carpets dividing the cobbled street into two chaotic lanes. The sheer diversity of the people was still humbling to Nezor. There were civilized Ivorans, dirty Westlanders, Nagas (most being of the Scael persuasion, a few may have been of Southern Barbarian stock), dark-skinned Creschans, and even a few Hill-Landers though all had appeared to be pirates in need of a ship. The air was rich with scents of fresh spices, the delicious oily smells of cooking food, and the exotic bursts of scented oils and incents. However, the stench of unwashed bodies and the general filth and sewage which ran in the gutters was only just detectable underneath the exotic pall of the marketplace.

Phenox located an alchemist and Cantra purchased some items to fill out her disguise repertoire and a make-up kit. Nezor split off from his companions when an armorer called him over to his stand which was covered in crocodile and alligator leather and skins. The shopkeep directed the hill-giant’s attention to the massive skin with its head still attached hung on the wall behind. The crocodile had been massive and was perfect as a suit of hide armor for Nezor, so naturally he paid half up front and spent awhile he was measured for his new suit. It would be ready for pick up in about 3 days.

As the “goodfellows” found each other as they were heading back to the Whiskey Troll they caught eye of a large group of about 12 fighters all wearing white armbands. One of their number armed with a golden sword was killing a tentacle creature at one of the booths. Another wearing chainmail and wearing a white Acton with a gold solar-disc over a blue wavy line on its front turned and raising his straight bladed broadsword into the air shouted, “We seek the enemies of life; we are looking for witches to BURN!” By the looks of him he was either a Cleric or Paladin of the Brighthouse (the Creschan Church). Nezor wasn’t quite sure nor di he care much. The ‘witch hunters’ then proceed to savagely beat the gypsy purveyors of said shop-stand.

The “goodfellows” turned and head back to the tavern, there the roguish Zevor later met with them letting them know that there “has been a delay” and it would be about 3 and half more days until the liberation of the goods form the criminal caravan in the swamps. Phenox tossed 3 leather hoods onto the ale-soaked table and Zevor without missing a beat snatched them up and tossed out 30 gold pieces onto the damp board.

So, Nezor committed himself to drinking, eating, and waiting for his new suit of armor to be done.

To Be Continued…

A Giant in Xuun Pt.1: Black Oak Mishap

The sweaty greasy crowd in the smoke-fogged taproom of the Whiskey Troll Tavern was in a cacophony as the clatter of coin changing hands began to wash over the former uproar generated by the evening’s entertainment. Among the grungy ragged crowd were a group of ethnic Scael Nagas with a dagger and coiled serpent design on their pectoral plates, and a lizard-man (probably a descendant of slaves escaped into the swamps centuries ago) and his human companions all dressed in coats made of a patchwork of rat-skins with an embroidered patch bearing a rat impaled on a dagger sown on the backs.Giant Hogshead with troll-face

A stumpy Westlander with a studded black-leather cowl was the luckiest gambler in the crowd as he had apparently made a significant wager on the hill-giant and his two companions against the 7 black-hooded thieves’-guildsmen whose corpses now littered the place. The leader of the rogues lay splattered all over a far wall opposite the scene.

A silk-robed Hyvalian, a gold signet ring on his hand and a great sword at his side, seated at a private table and surrounded by servants looked on as he sipped whiskey from his golden goblet studying the giant and his two companions. He had passionlessly observed the brawl but seemed to take a little more interest in the night’s victors, at least for the moment. In the course of the night Nezor would learn that this glittering and seemingly out-of-place character was Corvo-Doom, a powerful slaver.

Nezor the giant flopped down near his table, back against the wall nursing two nasty spear wounds in his side made by the short-spear wielding thief-leader. Phenox, a dusky southlander in alligator-hide armor his face hidden behind a mask fashioned from a human skull, after tossing a healing potion to Nezor, went to lopping off the heads of the corpses that were still mostly intact with one of his paired scimitars. The giant poured the potion on his tongue like an eye-dropper and began beating his club on the stone floor.

Nezor (played by me): “Gimme some whiskey! A hero thirsts!”

Meanwhile Cantra, the other of Nezor’s two companions, had already buzzed away and disappeared somewhere behind the bar. She had been sporting a single but deep quarrel wound.

To the giant’s surprise the stumpy Westlander in the black cowl jogged up with a full cask of whiskey and eagerly filled his copper drinking horn to the brim instead of Ebuyah, one of the troll-mutilated maidens which worked the fetid place and one of Nezor’s favorites.

Cowled Westlander: “Those whoresons deserved what they got. The Black Hoods have been interfering with my business for years. I’m Zevor by the way!”

It turned out that the stump of a Westlander was a “swamper” which meant little to Nezor. The giant continued to drink on the little man’s tab for the rest of the night while the ‘swamper’ tried to recruit him for some sort of a job that could “use some muscle”. He also offered a bounty of 10 gold pieces for each hood taken from a black hood member.

Come morning all three companions rejoined at their table in the Whiskey Troll Tavern, Nezor and Cantra having met at the House of Healing run by the ubiquitous White Star Guild in order to get ‘fixed-up’. Phenox was not-so-subtly de-fleshing a severed human head, one that he had taken during the battle the previous night. Nezor was ordering breakfast, a mass of steaming meats, a massive bowl of some sort of thin stew and a bucket of frothing ale. Cantra fluttered away to the barkeep in order to ‘ask him something’. It was a short while till she jaunted back and said that the group was heading to the city’s wood mill in the extreme east separated from the swamp only by a deep creek. The group waited until the hill-giant finished his meal of course.

It was close to noon when the trio neared the mill. As they continued to tread the yellow dirt road high piles of cut logs began to rise to either side. Suddenly the Cantra and then Phenox ducked out of sight leaving the clueless giant to stride right up to the yawning front gate through which lay the mill’s front yard. Nezor shrugged at the apparent absence of his companions and looked about. He could see a small caravan that had curled into the yard some hours ago flying a green flag on each wagon bearing the images of a black axe in a black oak. A small group of men, southlanders mostly, were talking.

One noticed the hill-giant and approached introducing himself as the yard foreman. Not knowing what to say Nezor simply said that he was looking for a job, the foreman seemed pleased and told the giant to wait a while as he had to ask the boss before hiring anybody. The boss was busy he said as he motioned to 3 men at the lead wagon of the caravan. Between that trio and the rest of the yard was a handful of human fighters.

The foreman: “He’s over there meeting with Zaraid, the merchant.” Nezor dumbly nodded in the affirmative.

There was a half-giant in boar-skins armed with a boar-spear wearing a bright blue enameled pectoral plate, an obvious human merchant, a Westlander, decked out with lots of gold jewelry and wearing a brown & crimson studded arming doublet, and a brawny sun-darkened man probably the mill-boss. The foreman jogged over across the dusty yard past the group of armed men, probably hire-ons for the caravan and a few guards from the mill, to the brawny older man. Just then, Nezor noticed a Southern Nomad girl stride right in through the front gate. She was bare-footed, wearing a clean but simple gown and was painted like a prostitute. The heavy make-up probably a ruse to hide a Naga heritage, he couldn’t see any goatish features in her countenance.

The gypsy strode with a rapid gate straight towards the merchant and the caravaners. She had a certain resemblance in build and attitude to Cantra. Nezor continued to wonder where the hell his companions went. The mill-boss had in the meantime approached Nezor who still stood just inside of the gate.

Mill-Boss: “Yeah, you are a big one. We’ll pay you 1 gold piece a week.”

Nezor: “What? Why, dat wonna e’en pay m’beer tab for ah tree-day! Ya got any’un for me ta’ bash!”

He waggled his club.

While the two men were parsing the giant’s heavy Hill-lander accent, a girl’s shriek echoed through the yard. The caravaner half-giant had thrown the nomad girl over his shoulder and was striding behind a high wall of piled logs. Nezor gazed after them with head cocked. Not soon after the boar-skinned mug was out of sight than his voice bellowed, “YOU gypsy WHORE!” All heads in the yard whipped towards the discreet pile.

The merchant Zaraid waddled quickly to where his man was. After quickly excusing himself with, “don’t worry boss I’ll check dis oot”, Nezor followed him behind the wood edifice. The giant was in time to see the gypsy girl hopping up the wood pile part of her dress ripped off and her make-up smeared off of half her face revealing her as Cantra to Nezor. The boar-skinned half-giant had a bleeding knife wound on his throat. The brute threw a punch at Cantra but she easily evaded and back-flipped to the top of the pile.

Zaraid unhooked his battle-axe from his belt then out from nowhere Phenox emerged slashing at the barrel-shaped merchant with each of his paired scimitars. The fat man dodged backward 10 ft. and the Blue Boar forgetting Cantra lunged at Phenox with his flanged-spear to defend his master. The blow was easily deflected. Nezor brought Dog-Smasher to bear and prepared for battle.

Zaraid the merchant caught both of Phenox’s swords in a clinch with his battle-axe. Taking advantage of the Grim Warrior’s vulnerability, the Blue-Boar stuck him in the guts with his spear. Nezor popped the fat merchant’s head with his club using a single-handed grip. Both Phenox and the Blue-Boar skipped backward away from each other, though the Grim Warrior did so in order to recover from the grievous spear-wound in his stomach. The Blue-Boar held up his spear and shouted, “Parlay! Parlay!”

Cantra immediately leapt down to the ground to fall upon and search the merchant’s corpse. Phenox surged forward and viciously attacked the Blue-Boar. The Blue-Boar struck back unsuccessfully with his boar-spear. Nezor crushed the half-giant with a two-handed club strike. Phenox immediately fell upon the half-giant’s corpse and commenced to looting it.

Nezor just turned around and strutted back around from behind the pile towards the Mill-Boss and the Foreman. He gave as quick an explanation as he could without missing a step in his stride on his way out the gate. He blamed the Blue-Boar for the whole debacle as the ‘villainous’ half-giant had turned on his master over ‘first-dibs’ on the gypsy whore.

Later, back at the Whiskey Troll the three companions reconvened at their table. Cantra had received a bounty for the merchant and his servant and had lifted a lock box from one of the wagons after the giant had fled. She wanted to split it up ‘behind closed doors’ back at her apartment. Nezor basically threatened her to get his share ‘now’. As they were leaving a small group of thugs entered the place wearing black hoods over their heads.

Nezor stood up and roared at them, “this tavern is for the justly goodfellows only! NO Black Hoods!” He gestured towards his two friends. The black hoods ran back out the door.

To Be Continued…

 

A Giant in Xuun (Intro)

Freeman Nezor of Clan Formarch, ethnically a Hill-Lander and racially a Hill Giant, was raised on the hillside of a glen somewhere between the great Granfor Forest and the North-eastern tip of the Central Mountains just inside the southern border of the Hill-Lands north of the Westlands. Here his family, a prominent portion of Clan Formarch, own a small farm of about 13 acres used mostly as a graze for their sizeable herd of goats. The family, as is the clan, a devoutly Hyvalian Theocratic Lowlander family.

Nezor’s and his only brother’s mother is long dead whom died from a fever shortly after Nezor’s birth. Not long after, his father remarried a barren and bitter half-giant woman who despised both him and his older brother. Nezor himself has a bad rep among his fellows as a violent drunk whom is dangerous because he can appear warm and friendly when he’s not keeping to himself but can explode for no particular reason into a drunken rage earning him the nickname ‘Beer-Knuckle’.

It was inevitable that someone dubbed ‘Beer-Knuckle’ would fall into trouble that would necessitate some sort of exile. He had left in a huff cursing both his brother and his father on his way out the door. He had a habit of cursing his step-mother whenever he had the chance so on the day he left he didn’t give her the satisfaction of uttering a word to or about her. He left home with little coin and the only possession of his that he truly valued.

His club that he had carved from a single large log of oak with the head fashioned to memorialize the myth of the Hill of Skulls and bearing the images of the Old Satyrs dancing and cavorting over the stock. The haft wrapped in yellow haired dog-hide strips and the pommel fashioned of interlocked hearts wreathed in flames representing the Heart of Boahng (the Buddha-Christ-like figure of the Hyvalian Theocracy) providing a firm and comfortable grip. Naturally he constantly used it to show off when drunk.

The crime he had committed began harmlessly enough. He used to “protect” the family herds when it was his duty to shepherd by killing the wild dogs that were so prevalent there. Occasionally he would take it upon himself to seek out ‘worthy foes’, wild bulls that would wander up from the south and revel in the ability to literally break them in half with his mighty club which he had already dubbed “Dog-Smasher”. Of course, he wanted to append “Bull-Breaker” to the title but his friends and a much more clever acquaintance of theirs gave him a drunken challenge leading him to break the back of a certain black bull one fateful night.

The GIant Club Dog-Smasher the Bull-Breaker
Nezor’s Great Club in all its glory straight from the player’s notebook.

It was the dying beast’s pathetic mewling which had brought its owner just as Nezor brought down the killing stroke. Needless to say the man wasn’t pleased, Nezor’s father had to pay the man for his steer but the damage had been done the prize beast had been killed before it had been bred and only recently acquired at a greater price than Nezor’s father had been able to fully pay.

The bull’s owner was a member of a less successful Highlander clan that in the past had been in competition with the Formarch clan and whose multiple heirs populated the upper ranks of the local Fua band. It wasn’t long till the band ambushed Nezor but as most were of the human extraction with some faun blood in their veins they proved themselves no challenge. Needless to say almost all were killed, some as they cowered in the shadow of the enraged giant. The results would have been understandable and probably tolerated under normal circumstances but it was one of the heirs of the farmer that had limped bloody and broken into town claiming that Nezor had attacked them due to the situation with the black bull as they were just passing by. Unfortunately the one-sidedness of the battle lent credence to this lie.

Not long after the Formarch Clan disowned and expelled Nezor to avoid a feud. The offended Highlander Clan thirsts for his blood to this very day. So, he took his club “Dog-Smasher the Bull-Breaker” (hey to him it sounds AWESOME) and headed south along the coast eventually finding himself in the southland city of Xuun.

The city of Xuun lies in the Marshes of Gorloc on the banks of the Xin-Vador River with trade roads skirting the north and south and connecting it with another city, Chizan, on the shores of Gorloc Lake which is rather more like a murky freshwater sea, all surrounded by patches of swamp, coastal marsh, and blots of wet-forest. Here he figured he could make a living as a strong-arm or paid-thug if need be.

He soon took up a sort of residence in one of the few buildings that could accommodate his 12-foot height with its 20 ft. high vaulted ceilings, the tavern known as the ‘Whiskey Troll’ the central dominating figure being a massive wood barrel larger than a hogshead with a carved troll-face above the tap. The entrance had had a large double-door but which had long since been destroyed, fragments still cling to the old hinges leaving only the portcullis to secure the building should the need arise. The place was a smoke-choked den of thieves, criminals, and low-lifers with partially transformed troll-wives for barmaids.

It was in this place he met his current companions, a male human Southlander named Phenox, a Grim Warrior by class (played by Gil), and a female human named Cantra, a Deathgrin by trade (played by Jenn). Despite his companions, which anyone but Nezor can see are definitely not good-people, Nezor sees himself as a larval hero needing only to gain the riches and reputation deserved by him to become the hero he knows he already is in the eyes of the general public. He values truth & trustworthiness but tends to be somewhat irresponsible. He is a prototypical Hill-lander in most ways however, enjoying drink and food to excess and reveling in challenges of strength.

Freeman Nezor is of the Chaotic Evil Principled alignment and his personality is “impulsive, acts/speaks without thinking; emotional”. His CON and STR are his highest attributes being +12 and +30 respectively and both are supernatural due to his being a Hill Giant. His M.E. is at +2 with the rest of his base attributes being at or below zero. His flaws are Noisy and Shy. His class is Thug and his inborn traits are Bruiser and Kamikaze. His most notable abilities are of course his STR and CON not to mention his great height. Besides his great club he is equipped with a cowhide jerkin, a steel skullcap with a simple engraved border design, bronze greaves and bracers also with a simple border engraving, a curved dagger suited to his size, and a single cross-harness.

It wasn’t long after finding his friends, and after some ‘harmless’ shenanigans, that Nezor found himself with his new found pals facing off with a gang of black-hooded criminals, the local thieves’ guild, on the cold stone floor of the Whiskey Troll Tavern.

To Be Continued…

 

A Mage from Poisonwood II Pt.9: And Everything Had Been Going So Well…

A few days after finding our way back to Rockhollow we were again out in the wilderness this time on the hunt for the suspect ratling which had evidently hired the goons that took out our companions. The gold talons we found on their bodies had the stamp of Blackgut but it was defaced with a strange scratch design scribed next to the defaced stamp reminiscent of ratling-scratch. The ratling was probably one of Blackgut’s minions that had escaped us whne we raided his lair who now obviously controlled a hidden cache somewhere. We had followed the map we obtained from one of the corpses of our would-be assassins, the marks at the bottom the same ratling-scratch marks as on the gold. I was watching Vorox the monster rider trying to figure out how to open a large, locked bronze double-door with a danse macabre motif on it. We had crawled through a spider-hole in a ruin with a single intact chamber which had newly stocked with supplies, the bags and chest bearing the same symbols as the map and gold. The spider-hole lead down into a mostly collapsed room with only the double-doors as a feature besides dirt, cobwebs and rubble that is. Having not sensed any magic emanating from the doors and since I didn’t have any spells which could be of any use towards our endeavors to get through them, I pulled out the pair of dragon-bone dice with jeweled pips that I had been carrying for a while.

We had buried our companions behind the mostly finished forge the previous day raising a cairn above each of their graves. We put Tweena to rest with the gear she had been wearing and split the rest of her money and her remaining items as we knew she would have wanted it. Both I and Vorox were shocked as to the shear amount of wealth she had hoarded. My share was: a set of Highest Quality Thief’s Tools & lock-picks,  a superior quality Pick Axe, 10 spare bowstrings, 10 torches, 1 bottle of superior quality wine, a silver goblet, a potions of See All, Fly, See Invisibility and Stone to Flesh; a quiver of torch arrows, 4 quivers of arrows, 4 quivers of high quality arrows, 2 potions of healing, a superior quality magic alloy arrow, 3,700 gold pieces, 3,584 silver pieces, 298 copper pieces, 130 gold talons, 124 platinum pieces, 9 rubies, 8 pieces of tiger eye, 1 diamond, 4 iron pigs, a Manual of Design, 16 large rubies, 2 alexandrites, 8 star metal pieces, a superior quality composite shortbow, and a quiver of magic arrows. My dream of altering Greenskull (the giant green lotus) with the troll marital salve I had acquired in our campaign against Blackgut, a bit of the Death’s Head Lotus and with a piece from a living Arborean the last item I still had yet to acquire. Of course slicing off a piece of a living tree-man in order to create a humanoid, intelligent lotus with the abilities of a Death’s Head creature probably would have traveled a little way into morally questionable territory. I had just transplanted Greenskull and a large number of various types of lotus from the Green Tower to the planters on the battlements of my tower. I tossed the dice against door while Vorox was trying to find purchase with his crowbar.

The dice glowed and it felt as if they had unleashed a burst of positive energy possibly healing us completely had we been injured. Puzzled, I threw them against the door again. Vorox was had just found purchase on the doors and was beginning to pry. A burst of blinding light exploded from the magic dice. I knew I was in trouble when a muted scream ripped through my brain and the emerald around my neck shattered into powder. There was a clatter as the crowbar hit the ground and I saw Vorox crumple into a pile of dust. As I disintegrated seemingly in slow motion all I could think was I could really use a little snuff of lotus right about n…

End of the Campaign (played between August 2014 and January 2015).

A Mage from Poisonwood II Pt.8: The Tower of the Lotus

Near the advent of spring and the end of winter at the first melt, I had another vision from the life of the spirit, the Druid Norolk, which inhabited the emerald around my neck. I saw him saving villagers from an attacking white dragon during a harsh winter long ago. I contemplated this and decided what I would do about the artifact. I had to set those plans briefly aside however when the owner of the property directly adjacent to my tower forced me to purchase it as my tower was directly up against it and may have impinged a little bit onto his land.

After the spring was in full gear and business in Rockhollow was preparing to roll forward I paid the local woodcarver to craved a small superior quality box which I could enchant later (with the Temporal Stasis spell I recently acquired) to assist in the mastery of the artifact. Unfortunately it would take 3 weeks to be finished. A few days later I was busy getting things arranged and stocking my tower while both Tweena and Vorox were away putting in orders for an anvil, probably to be imported from the west coast, and hiring laborers and buying lumber to build a fully functional forge next to the longhouse/lodge when I heard someone yelling their fool head off outside.

I poked my head out of the only available aperture in my place, the single arrow slit above the gate. It turned out to be one of Keenor’s servants summoning me to the suspect merchant’s warehouse on the other side of town. It turned out to be a meeting working out the wedding plans and dowry for his daughter, apparently I agreed to a spring wedding over some freshly imported and very strong Hill-Lander whiskey. The wedding was appointed for the following month. I left his place with 1 bottle of superior quality wine, 3 bottles of the high quality Hill-Lander whiskey we had been drinking, 1 bag of fresh fruit, a bag of onions, a bag of potatoes, 1 cask of ale, 1 sack of nuts, 1 sack of grain and a carboy of honey. All of which were deposited into my tower’s larder.

I finished the day and worked through the night, transplanting the Death’s Head Lotus into the planter in the antechamber of my tower, which I had dubbed the “Tower of the Lotus”, and scribed the runes for the Control Plant spell along the curbing.

A couple of weeks passed, Tweena’s forge was built but she was still waiting for the anvil, I had spent the time transplanting as many lotus flowers form the Green Tower as I could into the planters on the top of the tower and among the battlements as I could. The next morning I was still brushing the broccoli from my eyes before the arrow slit, I was taking in a breath of the cool morning air, when I heard a crash from outside in the direction of the lodge.

I saw a group of Hill-Landers, obviously hired muscle, outside; looked like we had some enemies that were still alive. A half-giant/half-faun was charging into the longhouse, the doors had already been busted in. A human in chainmail was standing in between the lodge and my tower; he appeared to be a mage of some kind. At my gates was a pair of well-equipped thugs. I realized then I had forgotten to bar the gate the night before. The half-giant charged into the lodge out of my sight and the sounds of battle echoed from within, obviously there were other hired goons within that I hadn’t seen. The mage in chainmail shot a lightning bolt at me and I ducked behind the edge of the arrow slit just in time to avoid it. I heard another loud crash and shattering wood along with Greyshadow’s roar from within the lodge. I risked my head to get a gander at the situation outside and saw the two thugs enter my gates. The mage in chainmail was out of sight. Figuring the Death’s Head Lotus would make short work of those two I teleported down to where I had last seen the mage in chainmail. I spotted the mage on the porch of the house. Suddenly, something swooped in on me and nailed me with its poisoned sword. I used a feature on my blue-steel skullcap and turned invisible. That’s when I saw what had hit me. It was a draconian, an alchemically mutilated humanoid dragon. It landed close to where I was at and began trying to sniff me out. I quickly blasted it with a lightning bolt admixed with some shadow energy. It didn’t do as much damage as I had hoped. I moved away from the monster and cast Neutralize Poison on myself to loosen up my rapidly mortifying joints.

I saw one of the thugs that had charged into my tower emerge with a panicked expression and the draconian swung at me missing by a hair’s breadth. I teleported next to the thug and entangled him in Shadow Ribbons and slit his throat. I definitely heard several heavy bodies hit the floor in rapid succession and the blast of the fireball that was shot into the lodge by the mage after. The mage in chainmail retreated from the porch in my direction but I could tell he couldn’t see me so I teleported over to where he was and caught him up in shadows as I did the trespassing thug. I stabbed him once but since that failed to kill him I blasted him in the face with an acid bolt which finally did him in. The draconian leapt into the air and flew off towards the east. I ran into the longhouse to survey the damage.

Both Greyshadow and Tweena were dead and Vorox had just extinguished the flames which had blackened the main room of the lodge during the battle. Vorox was badly wounded and without his armor as he hadn’t time to don it before the attack, everyone had still been asleep, but we both decided to chase down the draconian immediately so he drank down a few potions of healing and I cast Commune with Nature and concentrated to get a bead on the unnatural monster which was the draconian as soon I was able to pinpoint the creature’s location I teleported both myself and Vorox there.

We were engaged in battle with the monster very soon after. Both Vorox and I had to back off a few times in order to drink down some healing potions as the creature scored some devastating blows, the battle turned however after I was able to disarm it of its sword with a Tornado Disc spell flinging the weapon far out of sight into the bush. Evetnually Vorox scored a powerful hit and killed it, fortunately he was able to pull his axe out of the monster before it turned into stone then melted into a puddle of acid.

It was after the monster was destroyed that we surveyed our surroundings. We were in a small clearing in an unfamiliar part of the woods. That’s when we realized we were lost.

 

To Be Continued…

A Mage from Poisonwood II Pt.7: The Burning Emerald

I spent most of the week before Lord Black Eagle’s Fall Feast building my tower. Tweena was busy apprenticing with Rockhollow’s weaponsmith and Vorox the monster rider was missing in action. By the time the day of the feast rolled around the winter snows began. Fortunately I had just finished the ground and sub-level of my tower just the day prior.

The necklace I had taken possession of from the troll brigand Blackgut, the emerald necklace carved with the magic runes for the Arch Protection, Summon Defender Monster, and Heal spells had revealed some of itself in my dreams, in part I suspect, due to my habitual use of yellow lotus in conjunction with certain mind-expanding techniques. I had received visions of the valley in a time when it was still wild and unsettled and of an old druid named Norolk in his cave, and it is his spirit that is contained within the gem. The necklace in effect is an intelligent item but its spirit, in the vision, seemed groggy and not yet fully awakened. I contemplated this new information and that of my realization that the two Keenors may be one in the same as I accompanied Tweena to the feast.

The hall was large and crowded with carefully arranged tables and a throng of the finest folk of the valley. The nobility ate at the Lord’s table at the north end of the hall where an Ivoran noble with what was apparently his daughter bearing the crest of a mounted blue knight with a white sword against a blue field on his clothes sat next to Black Eagle, the warriors and men-at-arms at ate at the tables occupying the center of the hall around the open fires where a bull, stag and boar roasted. Next the Ivoran was his champion on whose chestplate was the image of a conch with a white sword through it. A fair sized group of the warriors were Ivorans appearing more as swashbucklers than their Westlander counterparts. I spied Vorox among the Westlanders already drunk with a face full of greasy meat. Tweena and I were sat at the south side of the hall with all of the merchants and guildsmen.

I had Tweena on my right and to my left was Keenor. I kept an eye on him at all times and suffered his small talk. At certain point he had mentioned that one of his daughters was ready for marriage. Throughout the evening I ate some and drank little, Tweena on the other hand drank her fill and stuffed her face. Rumors abounded across the board due to the ill-omen of the early snowfall about a white dragon named Frostfang, Icegak the frost-troll and ice-demons or beasts coming down from the Gohmar Mountains. There was much talk and fear of the things that long winters bring. At the first opportunity I beat it and after I was a sufficient distance outside of the Furst’s Hall teleported away to the Green Tower.

Over the next three days I meditated and imbibed in the virtues of the yellow lotus harvesting fresh powder from the Green Lotus’s patch after I ran out of the refined stuff I was packing. I returned to the lodge after coming upon an idea. I needed to refine some more yellow lotus making the effects more potent while mellowing the negative of the drug to induce more visions. At the same time I paid Tweena 5 gold talons to forge a front gate out of bronze for my tower. The following morning I teleported back to the tower and dosed myself. It took a few tries before I was able to focus but I eventually induced a vision probably another emanating from the emerald necklace.

In this vision I saw three green-hooded individuals, druids, 2 men and 1 woman. The woman bore my necklace and the two mugs were creating forgeries very nearly identical to mine. When they began to enchant the fakes I was able to discern the spells that they worked into them, the Shadow Glyph and Temporal Stasis spells. I also was able to make out they were doing this in order to “trick the green mage Zradenor”. I put 2 and 2 together and spent the next few hours learning the spells from the vision. Armed with these I made my way to the throne of the Green Tower and began to work the counter spells on the comatose plant-wizard behind the magic barrier. It took me a few tries before success and even then I realized it would not last long.

When he awakened he noticed my necklace and cried, “they tricked me!” He tried to cast a spell but either failed or couldn’t due to the magic barrier. I was able to get the name of the giant green lotus of the tower, to which he answered Greenskull, but when I tried to convince him to bequeath the conservatorship of the tower over to me he cursed at and fell back under the druids’ spell. He was especially miffed when he saw that the Death’s Head Lotus next to his throne was stripped nearly bare. I was disappointed at my failure to coax the care of the tower from the green mage and losing out on any possible mystical benefits that may have entailed but I endeavored to move as many of the lotus plants to my tower and a special chamber which I would finish by the end of winter.

I spoke to Greenskull the green lotus and convinced it that its master had entrusted its and the other lotus flowers to my care. The lodge was supplied for winter and me and companions were content to wait out the winter, I working on my tower, Tweena working the forge and Vorox, well, doing whatever it is he does outside of meat-shield. The only incident of interest occurred about midwinter when a raiding party of Yeti attacked the longhouse, I was able to kill two and frighten the other two off with a blast of Phantom Flames essentially saving the day.

 

To Be Continued…

A Mage from Poisonwood II Pt.6: Down, Down Under Bandit’s Well

I stood over the corpse of the wyvern I had just slain using the newest spell in my arsenal, Spinning Blades. Its breath weapon, nightmare gas, failed to affect me like it affected Tweena, the dungeoneer had run away into a side chamber. I harnessed some nightmare juice from the dead dragon while Vorox the monster rider, Greyshadow his dragonsaurus mount had to wait outside at the surface by the well along with the trio of followers he had just recruited (named Feak, Zar, and Zevor), went to deal with the temporarily insane Tweena. We were about a hundred feet or so underground in the ruins of a secret dungeon accessed through what’s referred to by the locals as Bandit’s Well. The intel I had gotten on the Red Daggers guided us here, the travel from Rockhollow occupying the past few days. After Tweena recovered, Vorox must’ve dumped a potion down her throat, we began our crawl through the seemingly abandoned human-sized chambers, over rusting catwalks suspended over vast bodies of black water.

A little while later we had gone deeper down a few flights of stairs to what appeared to be the back side of a secret door with Tweena again in the lead. I was busy rolling up my Portable Hole into which I had been dumping everything we had been looting along the way. A gush of stale, dusty air invaded my nostrils as she opened the door. The front side of the secret door was a superior quality white marble statue of a mage bearing a jet staff in one hand and a large fire amethyst in the other. The statue’s face had a maniacal expression on it as it gazed into the fire gem. The door opened into a long dark hallway the floor of which was covered in a thick layer of dust and detritus. Another similar statue as that which served as the door sat further down the hall, the gems of both statues providing the only light. Tweena unhinged the statue-door at my behest and I swept the portable-hole over it as well as the other statue when we came to it stowing them in the inter-dimensional space where I would put all the other booty.

We discovered a maze of dusty chambers and ruined halls which were populated with animated statue after statue bearing magical arms, a few skeletons, some giant spiders, pair of giant centipedes and a spider swarm from which we had to flee shutting it up behind a secret door. We found rest in a damp chamber the door of which bore the Wayfarer’s Mark where we licked our wounds all of us were pretty bad-off, after barricading the door. The next morning (we assumed it was morning) we wended our way to the final chamber where we fought a long battle against animated armor bearing magical arms and a magic helmet. The treasure which the armor had been guarding was almost completely collapsed and Vorox and I left it up to Tweena to crawl into the spider hole we found behind the door and pull out the treasure she had found in a locked and trapped chest.

Afterwards we decided to work our way back up to the wyvern’s lair and try to find its hoard. In all I had stowed away in the hole 16 wizard statues of white marble with a jet staff in one hand a large fire amethyst in the other and a maniacal expression on the face, 8 other wizard statues sans fire gems, 3 small white marble statues with ruby eyes and holding an iron spear, a black marble statue with an iron spear and shield, a small solid platinum gold & silver embossed jewel-studded harpy statue, a magic table bearing an illusory banquet, 3 superior quality quartz studded silver candelabras, 8 silver plates with matching silverware, and whole mass of both magical and non-magical but still precious gear. We easily found the rest of the wyvern’s lair across the black water which I was easily able to teleport both Tweena and Vorox, one at a time, into the cavern. We smote the wyvern hatchlings we encountered there and met a wandering and barely coherent berserker named Orn who took a small cut of the hoard after we found it and ran off after we exited the well. We rejoined Vorox’s dragonsaur and all three of his new followers, fortunately the monster rider keeps Greyshadow well-fed. We bivouacked by the well and settled into our bedrolls for a well-deserved rest.

I was awakened suddenly. “Harpies!” shrieked Feak just before he got snatched up in a harpy’s talons. We were able to rescue Feak, Tweena and Vorox took it down before it could carry him off, and fought the other two off of the attack. We managed to kill two of the she-beasts but the third was able to flee flying towards the distant mountains. The next morning we started back to Rockhollow. It started to rain by midday.

By evening while the others set camp I continued on for a couple of miles in the rain and dark so as to be able to teleport back to town and our lodge and a nice warm fire and hot food. My rest was deep and I had a dream concerning Blackgut’s emerald necklace (it was in the wyvern’s horde of all places) and something about the land meaning the valley of Rockhollow, needed to be “protected” whatever that meant. The others marched into town the next day.

We split the gems and coinage evenly and took up the magic items we individually wanted and could use the rest we decided to fence through my contact, Ebaik the alchemist. We set up a special auction in one of his back rooms which attracted some of the richest “collectors” in the valley including a shady mercenary and the fat merchant Keenor (see Pt.1). At the conclusion I slipped Keenor a dose of yellow lotus and took my fair share of the money and retired to my cellar lab at the lodge. That’s when it hit me.

Keenor was dead (see A Mage from Poisonwood: Pt. 7). I really need to lay off the lotus.

 

To Be Continued…

A Mage from Poisonwood II Pt.5: A Day Late and a Troll Hoard Richer

The day after we fought the young Crimson Reaver in a torrential downpour we stood in the entrance passage of Black Gut’s lair. Our wounds mostly healed from the previous day’s battle with the young dragon. After Vorox had dropped it I managed to harvest a vial of venom from the corpse. Tweena was in the lead wielding the key-ring she snatched from Blackgut’s body before we torched it. Greyshadow, Vorox’s dragonsaur mount, was left to guard the tunnel entrance as he was simply too big to follow. I of course was taking up the rear of the party.

We followed Tweena down the roughly and freshly hewn stone 20 ft.-wide passage crossing a 20 ft.-wide pit crossed by a narrow but thick plank of wood at abouts halfway, past a couple of forking, primitively dug dirt tunnels and stopped briefly at a 15 ft. well-masoned archway where Tweena detected a trap door in the floor. Vorox crossed after she disarmed it and I simply teleported to a flagstone deemed safe by the dungeoneer. We found ourselves in a large rectangular chamber with stone-block walls. There were iron doors to the west and east and a large polished bronze door dead ahead. This door she opened with her keys and through the door we could see a green glow emanating poisonously from the west of the chamber behind and a large troll wearing a war-belt and wielding a warhammer near the rear wall of that chamber.

Tweena pegged the troll with a crossbow bolt and unwilling to walk into the chamber for fear of traps Vorox taunted the creature in an effort to draw it out. I zapped it with a lightning bolt and it retreated to the east out of our line of sight. Tweena quickly checked the floor in the doorway and found another trapdoor in the floor so I teleported to where the troll had been standing and gazing towards where the troll had run I spied a familiar hallway. It was the hall I had scryed several days earlier (see A Mage from Poisonwood II Pt.1). The troll with the warhammer was just disappearing into a dark room at the end of the hall. I tried to catch him with my shadow ribbons spell but was too late. I hear the words, “Pull the lever!” No doubt gurgled from the diseased throat of the hammer-wielding coward followed by a series of mechanical clanks. Spikes came out of the ceiling and I was able to dodge the crushing ceiling to where I could remember seeing the lever. Unfortunately I found myself right next to a second troll.

I blinded the troll with a blinding flash and pulled the lever resetting the trap clearing the way for my pals. I spotted the silhouette of a troll-wife in the archway to the north which I knew was the torch-lit workshop of the recently late Blackgut. The lever-troll blindly lashed out clawing me but good, I teleported to the other side of the chamber, the first troll moved out of the shadows blocking my exit into the hall by the lever. Tweena and Vorox rounded the corner into my view and Vorox charged the first troll, the one wielding the warhammer. I attempted to cast phantom flame but it fizzled. The second and still completely blinded troll attempted to grab for the lever. Tweena dashed into the room and Vorox hacked down the warhammer troll in a single powerful strike. I used my gold magic ring, the one set with a ruby, unleashing an elemental blast of fire roasting the troll-wife a little. I then blasted her with a lightning bolt finally doing her in with a couple of acid bolts. Tweena jabbed the final troll with her dagger and Vorox finished him off. I zapped the leftover troll-meat with acid bolts ending the battle.

Tweena jaunted into the second archway to the north which led to a stinking, filthy kitchen. She said she had seen a ratling run in there during the fighting. I silently moved into the workshop and casting illuminate I spied and collected 6 gold talons, 10 silver talons, a talon mold, 10 iron pigs, and 1 titanium ingot from an open chest while the others hunted ratling in the troll’s mess. When the my companions entered after a little while, and long after I concealed my hard won booty, I pointed out a locked iron bound chest in the corner. I stepped just outside of the room. Tweena opened the chest lock avoiding the blade trap she triggered while doing so. She found a scale-mail vest with titanium inlay, 50 pieces of tiger eye, and 10 alexandrites. We went back south to the southernmost doorway with Tweena in the lead into what could only be described in the most banal terms as Blackgut’s bedchamber. The dungeoneer buzzed straight to the giant locked chest she spotted in the corner opposite the corner with the bucket/chamber-pot.

She thought it wasn’t trapped and picked the lock catching her hands in a spring-loaded blade trap nearly losing the fingers on both hands. Vorox had to rub some healing salve she had tucked away on her hands for her. Her hands were basically useless for the rest of the day. Within the chest we found a large sack filled with 500 gold pieces, 50 rubies, 1,000 silver pieces, 10 platinum pieces, and 50 copper pieces. There was also a high quality troll-make greatsword with a serpentine magic-alloy blade, a high quality troll-make dagger with a serpentine magic-alloy blade, a high quality titanium buckler, 5 bronze pigs, 50 gold talons, a manual on runes, 2 matching superior quality magic alloy battle axes with single large fire-emeralds on the heads and ironwood silver-wire wrapped grips, a superior quality large troll-make magic alloy greatsword, a high quality blue steel skull cap with star metal rivets inlaid with star metal, a high quality silver dagger with a jewel-encrusted grip, a highest quality platinum pectoral plate featuring a sculpted demon’s head bearing a large onyx gem in its multi-fanged mouth, 2 potions of healing, a potion of dampen magic, 1 oil of feather light, and several unlabeled bottles (2 of powder, 1 of oil and 2 of potions). Tweena also found a hidden compartment in one of the walls in which she found a lionel-hide bag of holding containing a medium silver shield with blood metal rivets, and dragon-hide bracers studded with dragon-bone. We began on our way out with Tweena still in the lead.

She led us to the source of the green glow and found a rather large fire-emerald which she appraised at around 8,000 gold pieces in value. We left it where it was as the ceiling and floor of the hallway at which the tempting, glowing gem was at the end of were made of solid steel. We all spent the night in the stone passage outside the lair entrance; a light sprinkle was coming down.

The next morning was marked by a torrential downpour so instead of traveling Tweena decided to make a go at the larger emerald, I was of course included in her plan to snatch it. I held out for the bag of holding. Her plan was to have me next to her when she grabbed the gem and I would teleport her out hopefully with the gem in her hands outside of the lair. SO the plan failed to capture the gem which was magically trapped with the Electrical Field spell and I lost one of my daggers, it had been stuck to the magnetized floor, when I teleported us out of there. The emerald was attached to its pedestal at the end of the steel hallway. It took about 2 days to get back to Rockhollow with a 1 day stopover in Blackwood and Druid Blackleaf’s tree through sporadic icy, cold showers.

It was still raining when we walked into town. Without pause I led the others to meet up with my alchemist contact, Ebaik, and paid him to identify the gear I couldn’t. The titanium buckler was a buckler of deflection and defence. The paired battle-axes had the ability to unleash the doom scythe spell on a critical strike. The skull cap was capable of casting the invisibility II and guardian shield spells. The pectoral plate was evil so the group agreed to let the alchemist “unmake” it. The silver shield was a simple magic shield and bracers were bracers of true-striking. The oil was an Oil of Stench; the powders were of Eagle Form and Conjure Flame. The potions were of Owl’s Wisdom and Fleet of Foot. After divvying up the equipment we went to deliver Blackgut’s horned helmet to Lord Black Eagle and collect our reward. We got 1,000 gold pieces for the bounty and an invite to Lord Black Eagle’s fall feast in 3 weeks. We left and were eager to get back to the longhouse in order to divvy up the remaining gems and coinage besides I was cold, tired and soaked to the bone. I was giving the teleport thing a rest.

Nailed to the front door with a crossbow bolt was poster bearing the mark of the Red Daggers and the words: 1,000 gold pieces for the head of Baerig Bronze Mask.

Great.

 

To Be Continued…

A Mage from Poisonwood II Pt.4: …And on and on.

Vorox the monster rider and Blackgut the troll-boss were having at each other before the boulder that blocked the entrance to the troll’s lair and Tweena shot the black ratling that had harried me causing him to flee. The troll slave-master was busy backing up his boss against Vorox and the dragonsaurus so I teleported to the top of the wood pile and prepared to cast Phantom Flames again. The archer troll emerged from the bush his green cloak waving in the evening breeze; he appeared to be out of those big, black arrows. I unleashed my magic over the battlefield dropping Blackgut and the slave-master. Seeing this, the archer bolted. The seemingly deformed ratling, a proto-trollwife, chained to the lave-master was still alive and squealed as the remaining slaves attacked and killed her. Vorox and I finished the two crossbow wielding thugs. The bodies were looted and we burned used the wood pile to burn the troll bodies. The clouds moved in cutting off any moonlight and it started to rain.

I cast Mold & Shape Stone working a 12 ft. tunnel in the boulder both for shelter and in preparation for our foray into the lair on the morrow. I packed away my share of the spoils which was 76 gp, 3 gtal (gold talons), 1 vial containing a black sludge (4 doses of troll marital salve), several troll-make titanium daggers with serpentine blades, a pair of dragon-bone dice with jeweled pips, and a glowing starmetal amulet set with a large aquamarine. I donned the latter in order to find out what it did, it fortified my sense of willpower. After this I washed down some trail ration with the last of my wine and quickly dropped off into a deep sleep at the rear of the tunnel.

A roar from Greyshadow jolted me awake. Bleary eyed I could see my buddies fighting the troll-archer and the red-faced ratling. Both Tweena and Vorox appeared to be badly wounded. I came to my senses and the dragonsaurus charged into battle leaving the entrance to the tunnel where he had been standing guard. I pulled out a small vial of Paralyze II spell powder combining it with a casting of Mass Paralyze. My magic failed to take hold but feeling its power the troll archer turned tail and ran away. Vorox shouted a taunt attempting to draw him back into battle as he could not keep up with his enemy. Tweena shouted that she lost sight of the ratling and indeed he seemingly disappeared from the field. I cast Crown of Eyes but the magic got away from me and went wild. All of us including the dragonsaurus were crowned with a floating, rotating circlet of eyes above our heads. After scoping out the area Tweena and Vorox were sure that the pair had fled then when they returned to the tunnel Tweena found that the door to the lair was open just a crack and there were ratling tracks leading in.

Come dawn the slaves left and we prepared to camp out for another day as both Tweena and Vorox were still badly wounded and needed some rest, they had drunk most of their potions and were smeared from head to toe in Blackleaf’s medicinal salve. By lunch it had started to rain again which was coming down in gray torrents causing the creek to flood effectively isolating us from the other side. Not long after Tweena alerted us to the young Crimson Reaver that had come to perch on top of what was left of the wood pile near the remnants of the troll bonfire.

 

To Be Continued…