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A Giant in Xuun Pt.6: Paladin Versus Doom

Corvo-Doom shot up from his seat battle-axe in hand and his translator/shield-man raising the gold demon-shield just in time to ward off the first blow from the golden broadsword of the paladin. Phenox leapt onto a table while roaring something incomprehensible in a clear effort to intimidate the enemy. He failed miserably and the crowd of on-looking bar-patrons burst into riotous jeering. The grim-warrior barely dodged the arrow that thudded into the table shot by the ranger that accompanied the witch-hunters.

The Brighthouse cleric in lead of the witch-hunters said a prayer over his mace which began to glow ominously. Jokingly, Nezor shouted out, “So which o’ya would pay me to NOT hurt ya! Haw! Haw!” That’s when the golden helmed paladin that had already swung his golden sword at Corvo-Doom shouted out an insult, that which compared the size of a giant’s genitals with that of his brain. Nezor snatched up his weapon in ill-temper and launched himself at the witch-hunting paladin with a clumsy one-handed stroke of his club.

Phenox flew from his tabletop perch at the cleric landing a flying slash with one of his blades. The ranger turned and shot Nezor in the back. Cantra back-stabbed one of the 3 fighters that had surrounded Corvo-Doom and then the Hyvalian slaver did a sweep with his golden axe cleaving through all three of them in a single blow. The paladin leveled a blow at Nezor whom barely parried the glittering golden blade.

Three witch-hunters bearing bearded axes attacked the hill-giant, one of their number fumbled badly; the giant parried the other two easily. Nezor retorted with a wide, powerful sweep of his club fumbling the strike badly, losing his grip on the weapon tossing it into the entranceway of the tavern some distance away from the action. Nezor jaunted after his weapon with the three axe-men on his tail.

Corvo-Doom engaged the golden-helmed paladin in one-on-one combat. The three axe-men in pursuit of Nezor were able to put themselves in between the giant and his weapon attacking him in unison. The giant simply trampled them to death. The ranger worked himself between the Brighthouse cleric and Phenox. Phenox responded with savage blows from both of his weapons to the ranger’s throat. The ranger expertly parried one of the paired scimitars but the witch-hunter’s second short-sword failed to block the second incoming blade and as a result exposed his jugular. Blood spurt and he fell limp to the besotted tavern floor, dead.

The cleric tried but failed to complete a prayer his features overcome with shock that his defender, the ranger, had fallen so quickly. One of Cantra’s arrows shot from somewhere in the shadows nailing the cleric in his right hip. One of the other witch-hunters, what appeared to be the squire of the golden helmed paladin, threw himself at Phenox getting in a lucky blow wounding the grim-warrior somewhat. Corvo-Doom and the paladin were fighting furiously their golden weapons glittering and flashing brilliantly in the candlelight turning the sea of smoke into a swirling maelstrom as they exchanged blows.

Suddenly, from the rear of the place a gaggle of near a dozen drunken pirates with tattoos of a black skull on their bared chests threw their pipes down and rushed into the chaos adding to the uproar. The paladin side-stepped and made a restorative touch to the cleric healing his wounds somewhat. The squire continued to furiously swing his longsword at Phenox whom parried with one of his blades hacking a wound into the boy’s belly with the other. A black lacquered bolt shot suddenly from the shadows narrowly missing Corvo-Doom. The quarrel appeared besmeared with venom.

A pair of the pirates jumped Phenox with an amazing flying tackle and Phenox was able, by some miracle, to move gracefully out of the way. Seven buccaneers surged over the paladin and the slaver blocking them from sight with their stinking bulk. Another pair of the drunken seamen attacked Nezor, one of them landing a nasty blow on the giant, Nezor responded with a powerful buffet knocking the sea-dog to the ground. The cleric uttered a prayer and in a shower of heavenly sparks all witch-hunters still standing were healed almost completely.

Nezor turned as he picked up his club and saw a well-armed Naga tumble out of the shadows apparently wounded by one of Cantra’s arrows whom in turn shot into the shadows on the other side of the bar, Cantra then leapt from the dark remaining in sight for only a quick second as she dodged the bolt. The giant then stomped on the prone pirate squashing him.

Suddenly a blue lightning bolt exploded from the center of the pirates that had overwhelmed Corvo-Doom sending them all retreating, smoking, and obviously horribly wounded. The slaver himself was visible for only a second after before he disappeared in a flash of pale blue light. The paladin shouting in rage as his desired quarry was now gone hacked down a retreating pirate.

Phenox attacked the squire whom was ready for the attack and put all his strength behind his weapon in an effort to pre-empt the grim-warrior’s overwhelming offense. Unfortunately the more seasoned fighter leapt out of the way of the clever strike and countered with both of his scimitars cutting the boy down. The pirates’ captain blew an earsplitting whistle calling his men, the ones still able to walk anyway, back and stopping another group from joining the fight.

The cleric made some motions with his hands and weapon and a ray of light sprung from his freehand at Phenox whom dodged the beam easily. Meanwhile the giant could hear the scuffle where Cantra played her deadly rogue-games in the dark with an unknown number of Naga assassins. The paladin charged Phenox but the grim-warrior was again able to dodge the righteous blow. The grim-warrior flung the golden sword from the paladin’s grip with one his scimitars in a successful disarmament and hacked into the church-knight with the other. The paladin answered with a stunning shield bash.

Of the foes left standing only the Paladin and the Cleric remained of the witch-hunters and an unknown number of the mysterious Nagas were skulking about the perimeter. Nezor moved forward and power-attacked the paladin with a two-handed blow launching the broken corpse into the far wall on the opposite end of the tavern where it stuck for as few seconds before falling messily to the flagstones. Cantra was visible now at the far end of the bar where a black crossbow bolt stuck into the board right by her head shot by an unseen crossbowman.

Phenox moved on the cleric and struck him once and as the priest was backing away to the door, hit him again with a pair of vicious sword-strokes. Cantra moved towards the giant as another black bolt chased after her narrowly missing her back. Yet another black dart oozing black poison thudded into Nezor’s armor fortunately it didn’t penetrate his thick armor. The Brighthouse cleric broke from Phenox and ran out into the streets. Another black quarrel flew from the shadows and nailed Cantra the toxin paralyzing her. She fell to the floor as stiff as a board.

Nezor turned towards the direction from which the bolt had come and roared at the top of his lungs flexing his awesome muscles making him seem to swell to double his already immense size. Every single bar-patron still in the place began to rush towards the exit. From the corner of one his eyes the giant spotted the same Naga that he had seen stumble from the shadows just a minute or so earlier creeping towards the door trying to use the crowd as cover.

Phenox apparently spotting the creature as well rushed in and hacked a gash into its neck then barely dodged a naginata blow from another formerly unseen Naga assassin. Nezor took the head off the one with the neck gash using his club. Phenox battled the one bearing the pole-arm and another slithered from the shadows. Both were wearing scale-mail vests. Another envenomed bolt struck the giant this time penetrating his armor poisoning him. Fortunately its effect was not quite so severe due to his supernatural constitution. He was slower and his joints had stiffened painfully but he could still move and best of all, still swing his club with full force.

It wasn’t long before both Nagas were dead and a quick cursory check of the near empty taproom revealed that the other had fled. Phenox picked up the 3 gold talons that were sitting atop the table Corvo-Doom had been sitting at and brought his “last” potion of Neutralize Poison to Cantra. The hill giant looted the corpses of the assassins. The other bodies had already been stripped by the bar-wenches.

The giant went back to his table and plopped onto the floor. A barmaid brought a cask of whiskey to him and said it was sent with complements from the pirate captain whom she pointed out. He was the only other patron left in the place. Nezor assumed that it was a “no hard feelings” offering.

Sometime later as once again the cream of the poor quarter of Xuun had re-coagulated in the Whiskey Troll’s taproom, a plainly dressed Ivoran approached Nezor through the clamor and introduced himself as the owner of the Troll. He was interested in buying the midnight steel box. Once shown the item the man offered 30,000 gold pieces, a cask of superior quality whiskey, and 1 month’s credit. Nezor ecstatically agreed as did his two companions.

To Be Continued…

A Giant in Xuun Pt.5: Selling Booty

About three days later Cantra, Phenox, and Nezor stumble back into the city of Brighthouse Clerics Heraldry group fights after selling chest contents Xuun, dirty, and not only foul from the slimy heat of the swamp but Nezor had spent about a day wading in the murk searching for the sunken chests in the muddy bottom. He had recovered both the smaller oak chest and the other chest the contents of which Zevor supposedly had already divided amongst the robbers. The mithral chest was lost.

Fortunately after a day had passed Gator-tooth had rowed back to the campsite on a newly built log-raft. He had come back for his promised pay. After a treasure exchanged hands he transported the surviving trio back to the outskirts of the city by the old gristmill.

The oak chest had contained: 10 blue-steel great axes with a single large black pearl in each of the pommels, 40 pigs of blood-metal, 10 lbs. of raw mother of pearl, a poor quality lacquered turquoise figurine of an armored warrior, and a high quality bronze-wood jar with a dragon carved over its face. In the other chest was a small superior quality midnight steel box with mithral rivets and hardware, a master book lot, a carven alexandrite skull which was given to Gator-tooth as payment, a superior quality dragon-metal tool hammer with a dragon-bone handle, and a high quality manticore hide cloak. Needless to say the hill-giant was a little miffed that such a haul had escaped his sight when shares had been split before the hoods had attacked.

As soon as the three hit town they opted for a quick drink at the Whiskey Troll tavern and Phenox after taking one of the blue-steel great axes and the dragon-metal hammer as his own left to destination unknown. Cantra took possession of the cloak and left for her apartment for “a bath”. Nezor mentioned before she left that he was going to the bazaar to lay out a carpet and hawk the wares that were still up for shares; the mother of pearl, the bronze-wood jar, the turquoise figurine, the booklot, the midnight steel chest, the blood metal pigs, and the rest of the blue-steel axes.

It was in the noisy, over-crowded, and bustling marketplace that Cantra found the giant when she came looking a few hours later. He was haggling with a group of bullywugs (frog-men) on the price of one of the blue-steel axes. He eventually let them have one for way below its actual market value as the entirety of their coin amounted to only a few hundred gold pieces. She sat with Hill-lander for a couple of more hours making sure he wouldn’t attempt to cheat her out of her share of the profits. Not long after Cantra had settled in that a mage wrapped in brown robes with an eye insignia on his chest walked up to the giant.

The mage bought all of the blood metal pigs for 400 gp. Cantra had initially failed to properly assess the value of the small bars it later dawned on her that each 2 lb. bar was worth around 20,000 gold pieces! Nezor just shrugged. Later, the giant successfully sold the booklot which Cantra was able to figure out the proper value of, to a man named Korfin whom passed along an address to where the books were to be delivered. It was a C.O.D.-type of deal. Just before packing up shop, Nezor managed to sell the mother of pearl, the figurine, and the bronze-wood jar for a combined 175 gp.

All three met back up that evening at the Whiskey Troll for a meal and several drinks after eating they would deliver the books to the address provided. Later that night it was Nezor who stumbled back some 3,075 gp richer. Phenox had stayed in the courtyard for some wine with the mage, for that is what Korfin turned out to be. Cantra buzzed away to her apartment again.

Nezor was about halfway back to the tavern when he decided to wander the streets and “do some good” if he spotted any “villains” about. It wasn’t long before the giant heard, “Die!” from a dark alley. Immediately he was beset by half-a-dozen black-hoods with a ratling shooting at him with a crossbow from the rooftops. The hill giant made short work of three of the thugs with a single sweep of his club sending their fellows fleeing. The ratling was suddenly nowhere in sight. Nezor decided to make a bee-line back to the tavern.

Back in the gossamer yellow glow of lamp-light in the pipe-smoke-fog of the Whiskey Troll Nezor settled in with a bucket of ale and a pitcher of whiskey. During the course of drinking himself unconscious Nezor talked to an older human in chainmail who, “thought it was a little suspicious that they went into the swamp with you guys and you’re the only ones that came back.” He was apparently a compadre of Zevor and his rogues. Nezor had just shrugged it off as the man stormed away. In the course of the night Nezor had put out the word to the trollish bar-maids that he had a midnight steel box for sale. When word reached the faun bartender he seemed intrigued but nothing came of it before the hill giant passed out.

When he came to, his friends were at the table, Phenox had sprung for breakfast. The three sat in the place for almost the entire day and by early evening were contemplating what should their next caper be when the slaver Corvo-Doom entered with his small entourage. It was after about a half-an-hour or so when the Brighthouse Witch-Hunters clattered into the place.

It was the same gaggle of fighters that Nezor had seen in the marketplace before the venture into the marsh. However, this time they were led by a Creschan (judging by his dark skin) cleric with the image of blue octopus impaled by a golden sword on his white Acton. At his side was a paladin bearing a golden broadsword and a gold great helm. Corvo-Doom with the unmistakable air of both hostility and over-bearing arrogance shouted something in Hyvalian at them almost as soon as they had stated their purpose to the bar. The golden-helmed paladin was the one that seemed to understand the gravity of the insult and seemed determined to face down the powerful slaver right there. The rest of the witch-hunters likewise readied their weapons and began to slowly surround the slaver’s entourage. Corvo-Doom’s right hand man which Nezor had seen act as his translator before shouted out, “A gold talon to any souls brave enough to help my lord!”

Phenox drew his weapons and Cantra hers. They both looked to the giant who didn’t seem like he was going to do anything. Phenox tried to convince him to join on the slaver’s side against the witch-hunters if for nothing “for the money!” But Nezor was determined to sit it out since the Brighthouse were supposed to be the “good guys”. The hill-giant took a healthy gulp of cheap whiskey.

To Be Continued…

A Giant in Xuun Pt.4: Never Trust a Mage

The successful gang of highwaymen came tramping into the camp not much The treasure chests the mage and his partners were gunning for more worse for the wear. At the head of the line was Zevor with the hill-giant Nezor on his heels, a large chest tucked under each arm. The reassuring and strong scent of heavily spiced stew met the raw nostrils of the exhausted adventurers. The 3 rogues Zevor had brought along were hefting a third chest, an oak chest, smaller than the previous two but still substantial, on a creaking pole-carriage followed by the mage. Pulling up the rear were the deathgrin Cantra and the grim-warrior Phenox.

Gator-Tooth (as he met the hungry eyes of each of the rogues in turn as he stirred the steaming stew): “It. Ain’t. Ready. Yet!”

The gruff leatherback tossed in a handful of chopped roots probably fresh pulled from the muck of the marsh. The other new thing about camp that Nezor noticed as he tossed his burdens onto an open patch of earth was that there was now a second raft on the shore, the wood white and newly chopped.

Zevor (he patted the giant as passed by): “For the chests my friend!”

Nezor: “Yeah, well. I’m ‘a stickin’ by dem until I get ma’ fair share!”

The sneering giant turned around and eyeballed the gleaming mithral chest. He roughly approached one of the thieves and appropriated one of their short-swords. The mercenary mage noticed what he was up to and said, “um, I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” The mage finally introduced himself to Nezor as Ebaknor. Nezor duly ignored him and went to pry open the chest. The sword blade splintered and a bolt of lightning immediately exploded on the giant’s breast.

Zevor quickly intervened and had one of the more experienced rogues pick the lock of the other large chest and had the mage work on the mithral chest to try to pacify the giant. It took about an hour, the plain wood chest was opened and Zevor was taking inventory. Nezor looked on like a marsh-owl as he gulped down some of Gator-Tooth’s stew. Ebaknor the hireling mage finally conceded that he could not defeat the wizard’s lock spell or the lightning bolt ward on the mithral chest.

Nezor’s cut from the opened wood chest was 25 star metal pieces, 75 platinum pieces, 100 gold pieces, 625 silver pieces, 10 diamonds, 10 pieces of quartz, and 3 instead of 2 black pearls. The hill giant had insisted that he deserved the odd pearl as “hazard pay”. No one argued with him. Zevor then told everyone to relax and they would be leaving come early dawn and he would watch the remaining chests. Nezor refused to leave guard duty solely to the stumpy Westlander thief-captain and insisted that the chest would not leave his side until its lock was broke and he got his fair share of the loot.

It was when the conversation between the giant and the stump-of-a-rogue was about to get heated when a 9-and-a-half-foot-tall warrior wearing a leathern black hood with red-trim wielding a bearded axe crashed through the bushes charging straight at Nezor.

A rush of several more hoods followed the giant axe-man doubtless there were even more skulking where Nezor couldn’t see them. Phenox pulled his paired scimitars and dashed out of sight into the bushes. Nezor parried a blow from the other giant’s axe with his club. An arrow flew at Zevor and he dodged out of sight. Cantra knocked and drew but her bowstring snapped. That was when Ebaknor made a dash for the rafts.

A shout from Zevor signaled he was hit by a poisoned bolt but still on his feet. Nezor battled the other giant both too evenly matched for one to easily overcome the other. Nezor while caught in a clinch between his carven great club and the hooded giant’s bearded axe looked over to see Cantra pegged with a crossbow bolt drop unconscious to the ground. The hoods had already made onto the rafts with the smaller oak chest, Zevor was nowhere in sight and Gator-tooth was fighting with his falchion and being steadily backed towards Nezor.

Finally, Nezor landed a crushing blow into the ribs of the giant hood and was able to deflect a reciprocal power-attack from the bearded axe. Crossbow bolts and arrows continued to fly and bristled in the bodies that littered the beach. Gator-tooth hacked down a ratling and Phenox tumbled out from behind the bushes engaged in furious combat with what appeared to be the hoods leader. The big axe-man chopped deep into Nezor whom was only spared from a quick and savage death by his new and by now very ragged hide-armor. He replied in kind with a power-attack putting all he had behind the single blow, an all-or-nothing gambit for survival.

The giant axe-man gasped as he dropped heavily onto the black earth, the hood that he was wearing emitted a bright sudden flash of magic light and he was gone, teleported away. Gator-tooth dropped another ratling and backed up to the hill-giant’s side. Phenox dropped to the ground felled by a paralyzing spell from the traitorous mage Ebaknor. Nezor growled. Another rogue with a hand crossbow slid out from the overgrowth and shot an envenomed quarrel at Nezor fortunately the tiny barb couldn’t penetrate his armor.

Gator-tooth charged the crossbowman and the leader who had been dueling Phenox dropped his paired swords and pulled a fighting spear from his back all the while keeping his eyes locked on the raging hill giant. The hood-leader thrust his spear at the giant who barely parried but leaving himself wide open and as a result was skewered by the second. The blow very nearly proved fatal. Nezor rendered temporarily helpless as he recovered from the blow.

The hoods were on both of the rafts and on one of them was the mage along with the oak chest. Their plan had obviously been to snag all of the chests and abscond with them and the rafts, unfortunately the giant had thrown a wrench into those plans. Gator-tooth continued to fight valiantly and Nezor took another nasty jab from the hood-leader’s fighting spear.

Gator-tooth chopped another hood down and just as before the leathern hood flashed with light and the thug’s corpse was magicked away. Cantra began to move and crawled painfully over to Phenox pouring a potion of Neutralize Poison down his gullet but to no effect. Nezor broke away from the hood-leader and charged the nearest raft getting stabbed in the process again onn an attack-of-opportunity by the leader’s spear but he successfully smashed the first raft to pieces along with some of its occupants using his club. Cantra began to giggle, the hideous sound of her insane laughter crawled up the spine of all who could hear it. She had made it to her equipment and snatching up a long spear tossed it at the spear-bearing hood-leader wounding him.

The hooded spearman charged after the giant and Nezor after parrying another dangerous spear thrust responded with a massively powerful attack. The hooded leader taken by surprise leaned into the attack and was thus launched in a spray of blood and innards into the air splashing down somewhere in the unseen distance. Gator-tooth moved to back up Cantra as it appeared the hoods were in retreat. The second raft was too far away from the shore for Nezor’s club. He snarled as he could see the traitor Ebaknor astride unsteadily upon it.

Without a word, Nezor walked over to the mithral chest, picked it up as if it weighed nothing and after shouting, “YOU fergot sumptin’”, tossed the chest at the raft. The weight of the treasure within the metal chest completely shattered the lashed raft dumping the remaining hoods and the unfortunate mage into the slimy drink. Apparently Ebaknor couldn’t swim and sank along with the chest into the slime and muck of the swamp. Gator-tooth began to rant and rave about his “boats” and stormed off.

Among the corpses scattered along the shore was the arrow-feathered body of Zevor. Gator-tooth and the “goodfellows” were the only survivors. Cantra tossed the giant a potion of healing and it took quite a while before the spell over Phenox wore off. They hadn’t a clue where in the swamp they actually were or in which direction Xuun lay.

They were stranded.

To Be Continued…

A Giant in Xuun Pt.3: The Swamp Venture

Heraldry of Woodcutters' Guild caravan that the trio waylaid in the swamp 3 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.

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…

New Setting – Arvan: Land of Dragons!

Dragons infest the land of Arvan a high-fantasy setting with the dark and brutal overtones of sword & sorcery. Set during the rise of an age of exploration and trade it’s a world fraught with the ruins of former ages inhabited by the folly of the Mad-Mages and dominated by Dragons!

Player Races include Arboreans, Amazons, Fauns, Hill-Giants, Humans, and Ratlings!

This Dice & Glory world book includes a mass of general information on the planet and its peoples. Also a great many details about geography, flora, fauna, natural resources, places of interest, religions, cultural spheres, ethnic groups, and archetypal equipment for each of the 7 main regions of the sub-continent of Ar. There is supplemental and background information on the ancient nations of the eastern side of the continent, named Van. There is also introductory info on the world of Eu on which the continent of Arvan floats and a GM section dealing with time measurement and the multiple Moons of Eu among other GM-Only details!

250+ Pages!

Coming in 2016

Written By: Robert A. Neri Jr.

Cover Art By: Jamie Noble

http://thenobleartist.com

www.facebook.com/jamienobleartist

The Dragonslayers III Pt. 30: The Slayers Have Arrived

It took just about two days to backtrack and find the old rowboat that they

Guild Mark of the Black Wings Hirok-Nor Chapter

had abandoned upon surmounting the White Heath. Vorwulf used his jeweled gold closed helm and enchanted the craft with the Mysterial Chariot spell. In an hour and a half they were at the gates of the Hill-lander town of Aáhké. The gate guards’ shields were all now painted with the arms of the town: a gold chalice before a split field of white and red with a golden mace and sword crossing behind the chalice. As the slayers plus Xanto the Wasp approached the captain of the guard asked Vorwulf, “Wha’ happened ta’ ya’a fellas?” Vorwulf proceeded to go into full-on brag mode. Before the triumphant ranger/dragon-slayer could finish his self-aggrandizing speech the captain waved them through and as soon as they were through the gates the group split up almost immediately. Though they had been victorious and were reveling in the afterglow they appeared haggard, covered in road dirt, covered in scabs, and were still exhausted.

Vor was already sitting down to a table at the Red Ram Tavern with a full tankard of ale and a bottle of whiskey before he realized that he had forgotten to officially arrest the Wasp and detain him as was his duty. He just shrugged and began to put one on. Meanwhile Grom the shaman had kept his head about him and followed the Wasp as soon as the group split going in all different directions. He lost sight of him for a second and the Wasp was gone. He had lost him. Magiia the dragon-blood-warrior was already headed to her room at the inn intent on spending her time refining more dragon-blood potions. Grom joined Vor and later they both spent the night in Maggi’s room.

Come morning before even Vor could wake, the shaman had already tracked down the Wasp and about an hour after sunrise had guided the group to a make-shift tavern consisting of a canvas tent and a covered wagon next to the Aáhdrahké distillery in the West Quarter along King’s Walk. When the slayers arrived they saw Aáhdrahké clansmen everywhere and what appeared to be a caravan queuing next to a small courtyard. From a carriage bearing the mark of the Aáhdrahké, a blue bull with white horns before a solid green field, painted on it stepped the Xanto. He was in native finery with a cape of black silk with the embroidered clan mark on display, a pair of soft felt shoes with jeweled buckles, and a fine silver capped walking stick.

Vorwulf (played by Cris): “You! Wasp! Get over here! You’re under arrest by the authority of the Blackwings Dragonslayers Guild of Hirok-Nor!”

Xanto immediately jaunted over to the slayers filled with nervous energy: “Friends! Friends! What a surprise! Hehe. Um, can’t we work something out make a deal. C’mon we’re friends right? C’mon! I saved your @$$es up there in case you were not aware! Guys?”

Grom and Maggi kept a stoney gaze with hard expressions directed at jittery and smiling Wasp-mage.

Vorwulf (gesturing to the clansmen): “This man here, Xanto the Wasp has a PRICE on his head! The Blackwings guild will pay any man here who manages to bring him in.”

This started Xanto to start raising himself up and down on his ankles trying to shush the irritated alderman. “Wait! Wait. Hold on friend for just a second.” The skinny mage turned and spotting what appeared to be a noble or at least someone of importance wearing a similar outfit but with a tartan across his chest who was exiting the main building. He ran up to this man, a full-blood faun, and it appeared for the next minute or so that they were arguing but soon enough the noble gestured his men and they brought forth an iron chest from the strong-carriage in the caravan line.

Magiia (played by Jenn): “Oh no. What’s this guy up to NOW?”

Grom (played by Gil): “Don’t worry guys I got ‘em. Maybe I can turn ‘em all into chickens.”

The strongbox was opened and the noble paid out the 10,000 gp bounty on the Wasp’s head in gold talons to the slayers which they happily accepted.

Gil: “Hey. Why are they protecting this guy?”

Cris: “It’s whatever he took from the mushroom; you KNOW he took a piece of it or something.”

Vorwulf (looking the Wasp right in the eye): “If you ever step foot in Merdna or we catch you anywhere near Hirok we’re gonna arrest you and ship you to Chago!”

The Wasp (with s#*t-eating grin): “Don’t worry it’ll all get squared away! Are we not on good terms again? Besides I’m headed south. Maybe we’ll share a drink together!”

He took his leave at about the same time the slayers took theirs them being eager to get back home.

They soon picked up some supplies (mostly bottles of whiskey) and headed south back to Hirok-Nor and their adopted hometown of Merdna. While coasting down Barbarian’s Tread the surpassed the Aáhdrahké caravan noticing it too was going south.

Grom: “Man! Is he gonna make us arrest him?”

Jenn: “Heh. You really like him don’t you?”

Gil just grinned and shrugged.

After a couple of days and a battle with some Night-Trolls and a Formorian they arrived back in Merdna. The workman were assembled and digging ditches for the foundations of their guild house and dismantling the West Gate and setting a temporary palisade around the construction site. They arrived at the Hopping Rat and could see that Bers’ memorial statue had been finished and was standing in their courtyard. As soon as they entered Og and Trasknor (Grom’s & Vorwulf’s protégés respectively) whom were tending the place got them up to date on happenings round town leaving Ebor the bartender to man the board. Kyrahma had been spotted by them both transformed back into an amazon on the night of the green moon smashing the place up before she ran away, they haven’t seen her since. The framing for the guild house will be up by next summer; the foundation excavations are proceeding. Street crime even with the tat-eyes on the street is getting bad as more and more of former Black Soldiery are filtering in the cheap black paint cleaned off for the most part. Vezik the druid had sent a leather wrapped parcel for them in the back that had arrived a few days before. So the slayers went into the back past the tat-eye ratlings, no doubt agents of their criminal “guild” keeping an eye on the place, to see what it was. The slayers took the rest of the day off and on the following day spent it wrapping up business.

They had gotten the deed for Raven’s Eyrie in Grom’s name instead of the guilds from Lord Vorahd and Vorwulf sent off a magical pigeon to the Chago Blackwings. Vorwulf also used the 150 star-metal ingots from the group treasury to commission some breast plates, and axe & spear heads for the gate guards. As a celebration that evening Vorwulf opened the carved stone bottle he had purchased from Ole’ Twist back in Aáhké (see the Dragonslayers III Pt.20) in the rear storeroom of the Rat. They proceeded to ‘battle’ the whiskey elemental that exploded from it. Grom attempted to tackle the thing but belly-flopped onto the table and had his head engulfed in whiskey, he soon passed out due to extreme inebriation. All the while Vor and Maggi were scooping bits of the unfortunate creature up in their gold chalice and fine drinking horn. It was Maggi that drank the last gulp as Vorwulf passed out cold after his fourth or fifth chalice-full. The ferenoi stumbled out into the tap-room and “hung out there” until dawn.

Next afternoon, about the time all three had finally sobered up, they were given a letter from Xanto which he had left with Ebor. The Aáhdrahké caravan had passed through town the previous night and the Wasp had dropped in for a drink. The message ran as thus:

Too bad we couldn’t have a last drink together but I’ve gone South to a place called Skullhead to see some friends, brothers by the name of Dracorian. I’m sure you’re unfamiliar. Anyway.

Ciao!

P.S. – The wand I used to transfer that one book to the other is behind the seal.

They sat around thinking about it for a while until near the end of the day when it struck Magiia. She checked the area for the seal that had been stamped on some of the oldest bottles in the cellar and found a stone above the hearth bearing it. She reached up to the gryphon seal above the hearth and found it opened having a hollow behind it. Within the hollow they found a golden rod and a scroll describing its use. They could finally transfer the Tome of Dragonslaying from the troll-tome back to its rightful binding.

****

Grom the Shaman took up residence in Raven’s Eyrie where he began his research into things arcane. Magiia spent the rest of her life on constant dragon-hunts alternating between that and bouts of heavy drinking in the Hopping Rat. Vorwulf was eventually officially named guild-master of the Hirok-Nor chapter of the Blackwings Dragonslayers’ Guild, and spent the rest of his life funding repeated expeditions into eastern Cleft-Rills in search of the ultra-rare Brown-Spine Dragon he’s sure was there but to no avail so it may still be there somewhere. The Tat-Eye Ratlings kept up their end of the contract with the Blackwings and rose to a level of power equal to that formerly enjoyed by the Crossed-Staffs had been dominating the region and frequenting the Hopping Rat which has a massive mural along one side of the outside walls portraying Magiia slaying the red dragonlord with the other two standing behind her, commissioned by Maggi of course, and the statues memorializing Dead-Eye and Bers stand in the courtyard of the Hopping Rat marking their graves the urns containing their ashes being buried at the statues’ feet. After the erection of the guild house, the Blackwings became the biggest name in dragon-slaying in the pan Norusk/Hirok-Nor/Cleft-Rills region.

The End of the Third Dragon-Slayers Campaign (played between February and September 2015).

Finis.

The Dragonslayers III Pt. 29: Dueling the Dragon Lord

The Courtyard - 'X' marks the mushroom! — The Courtyard – ‘X’ marks the mushroom!

The great red dragon was at least 50 ft. in length not counting its powerful tail and extra-long neck. Its head was crowned with several spear-long ivory horns which ran along the spine in a ridge of spikes on its back to the end of and studding the tail. Its dark red scales resembled dark red shields battle-worn each but all still true. Three skulls of adult dragons, species unknown, hung clunking about its neck on a necklace alongside a shield-sized golden medallion covered in dragon-scratch. On a single claw was a carved jade ring like the one taken from the steel-helmed juggernaut which Vorwulf wore as an arm torque.

Vorwulf shot a dragon-bone arrow from his longbow which shattered harmlessly on the magic shield that appeared around the monster, its gold medallion glowing brightly. He activated an item gaining a magic shield of his own. Grom as soon as he caught sight of the legendary beast, the one which had wiped out his tribe leaving only him and his protégé, froze in his tracks a victim of his own panic. The dragon’s throat inflated with a hideous sucking sound, its jaws gaped and a white hot blast of fire shot out as it swept the entire area its back to the burgeoning millennium mushroom. Vorwulf took shelter behind the large stones under the ruined archway avoiding all the damage, Grom the shaman and Magiia however took the blast surprised that half of the damage bypassed their protection from fire dealing quite a bit of damage. Mags stopped her charge and drank down a healing potion. The first drake swooped over the rocks near the entrance to the courtyard and snapped at Vorwulf whom parried easily with his superior quality bronze buckler. The third and fourth of the three fire drakes swooped down at Maggi with their claws and caught her off guard as she ran towards the “big one” intent on “tasting his blood”. The flames of battle rose to a rage very quickly, three of the Drakes lashed out at Vorwulf as he tried to keep rounding the edges of the battle field using his bow more on them than on his main target as intended and the other Drake continued to pester Maggi. Grom fought top overcome his fear but eventually had to resort to casting Dispel Fear on himself. The dragon cast Hold Person on Maggi stopping her before she could get a blow in; she fortunately was still able to activate the Shield ability on her Bronze Helm. The dragon then turned and gupled the Ferenoi down following a massively powerful bite. Grom rushed forward eager to join the fray.

Maggi’s shield beginning to waver in the volcanic acid-bath of the dragon-lord’s stomach, Maggi was able to shake off the dragon-magic with a Natural 20 (the ONLY way she could’ve done so). Two of the Fire Drakes continued their assault against Vorwulf who was able to deflect their claws with his buckler. He quick-drew his swords and struck back concentrating his blades on the first of the two dealing some damage to the beast. Grom ran forward towards the dragon-lord and drew his morning star of Supernatural Might. The dragon glanced back keeping an evil green eye on the mushroom. Then as Maggi used all her might to slash with axe into the walls of the monster’s stomach it vomited her up. The Drake that remained near the dragon lunged at the shaman. The other drakes continued after the ranger, he continued to hack and slash at them. Maggi stood up and struck at the dragon-lord causing the second charge of his shield to be knocked down. The dragon stomped on her a great blast of dust mixed with the swirling coal smoke. Mags was able to work her way form under the dragon’s gigantic claw the way greased by the dragon-vomit which she was covered in as well as her own blood which flowed freely from her mouth and nose. The two Drakes fighting Vorwulf finally dropped their black blood spreading over the white ground where they fell. Maggi pulled herself up desperately trying to stay conscious (she made a Recovery check versus the stomp).

Jenn (Magiia’s player): “I’m on K-O points here!”

Grom dropped from the sky to her side with the third Fire Drake on his tail.

Vorwulf knocked an arrow and shot at the dragon-lord finally dispelling the monster’s magic shield for the final time that day. Grom tried his morning-star against the dragon’s hide; he found he was quite ineffective barely scratching a single scale (he did three points of actual damage to it). Maggi activated her shield and let loose a power-attack at the dragon who easily batted the whistling blow to the side. The last drake snapped at the shaman wounding him. The dragon struck at Maggi dispelling her shield with a single blow. Grom again tried his weapon against the dragon-lord (this time dealing about six points of actual damage). Maggi wound her body up and smashed her axe into the last drake felling it in a gory spray of blood and organs. Vorwulf was launching dragon-bone arrow after dragon-bone arrow at the red monster. He activated his boots of Fleet of Foot and the Eyes and Ears of the Dragon ability on his coif. Nearly all his shots at the dragon missed so he shot an acid-arrow at the monster which had little to no effect. In the ensuing struggle Maggi was forced into another recovery check to avoid losing consciousness and Grom used the Heal ability on his mithral open helm to being the Ferenoi back up to almost full health. She was able to counter a claw strike but dealt very little real damage with that blow. Then all of the slayers let loose a united frustrated groan as the red dragon-lord with a wave of its nasty claw summoned four more fire drakes. Its tail swept at both Maggi and Grom, the Dragon-Blood Warrior was able to get out of the way but the shaman took a great deal of bludgeoning damage and was forced into a recovery check to remain standing.

Jenn: “Well at least its shields are down.”

Vorwulf shot an arrow deep into the first newly summoned fire drake. Maggi hacked into the third, the nearest to her, hurting it. The dragon unleashed its horrific breath weapon for a second time sweeping the area forcing Grom to dodge into a nearby pit to avoid it and imminent death, Mags was barely able to absorb the damage she couldn’t avoid. Her life was now hanging by a thread though the bleeding was cauterized. Vorwulf had been just out of the area of effect. The drake on Maggi struck and she countered wounding it blood gushing. The first and second flew after Vorwulf; he was able to avoid their claws and teeth. The third leapt into the pit after the shaman. Grom in mid-fall was able against the odds, to quicken Bestial Might on himself magically morphing into his bizarre winged and furry form. He set himself down on the uneven ground below realizing he was in a high ceilinged vault which was choked with fallen stones and ruin. Up ahead he could see a strange glimmering light where the tunnel intersected with another; he briefly considered trying to seek out the Wasp whom they all believed to be down here somewhere. He ducked behind an amorphous pile of spider-webs, stones, and broken wood as he could hear the snarling of the incoming drake. Above ground the dragon snapped its jaws at Maggi who avoiding the blow lashed out and nailed it dealing it some decent damage. Vorwulf pulled out his great axe, he had run out of dragon-bone arrows, and engaged the drakes that were attacking him. Maggi dueled the dragon and drake while underground the shaman drank down a potion of Barkskin while trying to keep hidden as he could hear the drake trying to sniff him out. Before he stepped out he activated the Mage Armor ability on his necklace and made a run for it running past the beast and leaping into the air while it gave chase. No sooner had Maggi backed off and drank down a healing potion than she felt the claws of the drake raking her ribs (she rolled a Natural 1 versus the blow). The shaman burst out of the pit and swept over Maggi’s position. The drake on his tail was blur as it zoomed out of the pit and attempted a dive attack on him but floundered unexpectedly and smashed face first into the ground (it had rolled a Natural 1) at full speed killing itself.

Vorwulf closed with the dragon-lord, two drakes following him, Maggi struck at the drake still on her wounding it badly, and Grom also let loose a power-attack with his morning star on the same target dealing some damage. The dragon turned towards the mushroom which was now much taller and glowing with a strong and very pronounced eerie white light. The drakes continued their assault. Grom flew up 100 ft. above the dragon. The dragon swept its tail at Mags and she deflected the blow with her axe and countered it burying her axe in its hide. Vorwulf concentrated his attacks against the drakes using the magical speed granted by his boots to deliver a series of power-attacks felling two of the remaining three. The dragon unleashed a Swarm of Magic Missiles to little effect and then a claw at Maggi forcing her to recover. She was again in dire straits. Vorwulf, after dropping the two drakes, drank down yet another potion of healing.

Vorwulf then redoubled his efforts on the remaining drake dropping the already blood-ragged beast before it even had a chance to act. Maggi chopped into the dragon again. The dragon turned itself around to face the slayers and moved forward trampling Maggi then turned its face up unleashing a blast of its lethal breath at the flying shaman who was just able to get out of the way. Grom flew over near the tail end of the dragon struck at it; his weapon glanced harmlessly off of its armored hide. Vorwulf stepped back and exchanged his great axe for his cutlass and the Dragon Bane Longsword with the large rock-crystal pommel stone. The runes on the blade read, “Suck the Breath & Drink Deep the Dragon’s Blood”. Maggi power-attacked the dragon again wounding it and both Vor and the shaman focused their efforts towards cutting the monster to ribbons. It unleashed a Hold Person spell on Vor but he was able to resist, barely. They continued fighting it slowly making headway as its wounds began to multiply, Grom buzzed around striking and moving. The dragon-lord struck out at the flying shaman but missed only due to the constant Displacement spell emanating from the magic robes he wore. Using his magical speed Vorwulf continued to subject the great monster to a death by a thousand cuts.

All three of the slayers battled on for the next two rounds with their greatest enemy, all taking their share of wounds, their armor getting torn and dented. Maggi took the brunt of the dragon’s rage spending much of that time surviving by recovery-check and the shaman expending all of his healing touches per day. Grom found himself underfoot and was nearly crushed to death but fought his way out after struggling for two turns. At the beginning of the ninth round all including the dragon were badly wounded, bleeding, and filthy. All but the dragon were nearly out of breath nearing their threshold for exhaustion. Some of the dragon’s wounds closed and any bleeding stopped.

Cris (Vorwulf’s player): “S#*t! This is the last round and my boots are done. My armor’s nearly gone too.”

Jenn: “I’m out of potions! My girl’s bad, real bad right now!”

Gil (Grom’s player): “Yeah I’m hurt. My helmet’s out of Heal but I got some healing spells left.”

Cris: “Save ‘em. If we survive we’ll need ‘em.”

Grom swooped by the dragon doing a flyby attack dealing only a handful of actual damage. Vorwulf pulled a potion of Healing from his dragon-hide bandolier and downed it. Mags rushed forward again and let loose a powerful blow into the monster opening a deep and bloody gash. The dragon blasted its breath at Grom again and he dodged. Vorwulf moved over to Maggi and she surged forward again laying her axe into the dragon’s side. It reared and rushed forward trampling both Vor and Mags laying them out and leaving them bloodied and struggling to get to their feet in a cloud of choking dust. Grom did another flyby gliding down towards Maggi’s twitching figure. Realizing that it was nighttime Vorwulf activated the Cape of Bat Flight and shot straight up into the weird green night and drank down his last potion of Heal. Grom dumped his last potion of Heal down Maggi’s throat saving her life. The dragon lunged at Vorwulf striking out with its claws and tore into the airborne ranger wounding him badly. Its tail whacked Grom wounding him. Vorwulf, desperate, flew at full speed to the dragon and as he flew above its neck he canceled the cape’s effect and in midair went into a leap attack with both weapons.

Me (the GM): “Um, dude. you’re gonna wind up right next to him and he has an attack left.”

Cris: “S#*t. Damn. I uh…, Yup, he’s gonna kill. Ah..uh..Oh SCREW it, screw it.”

He threw himself towards its long and vulnerable neck with both weapons and as it turned it left itself open to his attack stretching its throat out for the Dragon Bane weapon in the ranger/dragon-slayer’s right hand (it rolled a Natural 1 to auto-parry). The first cutlass struck and laid open the hide to the muscle and the longsword sliced a bared artery, letting loose a virtual rain of steaming red-hot blood. He thumped to the ground on his feet and he, Grom, and the newly risen Magiia all had to dodge the dragon’s corpse as it convulsed in its death throes and fell with a crash. It was then that they saw that the mushroom which huge by then, it was starting to convulse madly jerking to and fro then suddenly it seemed to collapse in on its self, shrinking and shriveling into a nasty black mass then to nothing.

Cris: “Whatever the Wasp’s doing he’s doing it.” The others nodded in agreement.

There was a crack as of thunder and the energy of the leyline which the millennial thing had tied up and was sapping was suddenly freed exploded back into activity. All three of the slayers were injured by the explosion of magical energy. The strange green glow which had flooded the sky began to subside as the green moon began shrink away back into the darkness. The slayers looked about them and then to each other. They were all horribly wounded, completely battle-worn and utterly exhausted. Now all they had to do was travel back to town.

To Be Concluded…

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