| Author |
 Topic  |
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
 Posted - 24 Jan 2012 : 14:12:26
|
Continuation...
- Tavelle couldn't hear anything but the screams of the terrified horses and the snarls from the wight.
"Where in the nine hells is that other wight?", said Tavelle's player anxiously. The second wight was ready to strike, it had crept unnoticed, due to there being no lines of sight, to the empty rear stall on the right. I picked up a d10 to see if it could find the right wizard and rolled a 4. The attack roll resulted in the wight successfully slamming a figment, I rolled a 16.
- Tavelle caught sight of the second wight far too late and he saw it dismiss one of the four figments at his rear. It whirled around in anger at being denied.
"Now i'm in trouble!", said Tavelle's owner.
The stealthy wight picked a new target (Tavelle was still a result of 1 or 2 but now it was on a d8 roll) and I rolled a 6. The attack was a miss.
- The wizard saw the stealthy wight lash out at another figment and miss wildly, luckily it had moved out of a possible flanking maneuver. Tavelle swept the longsword at the original wight and connected solidly with its shoulder (21/26). The wight snarled at him and staggered sideways slightly and then lurched forwards attempting to slam with its wickedly clawed hands.
For the wights furious attack I rolled a 13 for a total of 15.
- Tavelle felt the armour of force nearly buckle under the ferocity of the hit from the undead horror and saw the other wight dismiss another figment. The wight that had tested his Mage Armour enchantment snarled at its partner and both of the undead creatures turned their gazes to the real Tavelle.
Tavelle's player gave me a grin. I had to wonder what he'd thought of. "I can't face them both at once, i need to rid myself of one", he explained.
- Tavelle stepped backwards to give himself some breathing space and in the same motion felt for a small carved shard of horn that was attached to his leather wristband. He grasped it firmly and started intoning a spell.
Tavelle's player informed me that he was casting a Battering Ram enchantment aimed at the uninjured wight. The ranged touch attack roll was a 10 (+3 bonus) and just enough to strike the wight for 5 points of damage. The spell's Strength Check modifier is +10 and a wight's is +1. Tavelle rolled 18 for a total of 28 and the wight rolled 11 for a total of 12, the Bull Rush was a great success.
- Tavelle raised his left hand and a glowing, silvery Ram-like force sprang into existence and charged, head-first, into the Undead horror (5/26). Even with all the screams from the scared horses Tavelle heard a satisfying crunch as the Ram's massive horns connected. The wight was carried backwards fully fifteen feet before being dumped at the outer edge of the stable's main doors.
This wasn't the first time that Tavelle had cast the spell, he had demonstrated it to Nelyssa on his first day at the barracks. The target back then was just a lancer's training dummy but Tavelle had destroyed it completely.
The wounded wight attacked Tavelle and rolled a 7 (+2 bonus).
- The wight that was now closest to Tavelle lurched in, attempting to drain his life force, but missed as the wizard sidestepped. Tavelle attempted to counterattack with a sweeping forehand slice.
Tavelle rolled a 14 (+3 bonus).
- The tip of Anvil's Edge, nearly three inches of the blade, slashed through the back of the wight's skull giving the creature its final death (29/26). Tavelle turned his focus to the wight that was clambering back onto its feet and stepped through a nearby figment of himself. The two remaining images seemed to shuffle themselves around the mage and the wight studied all three trying to perceive the correct one.
- The wight snarled at the three wizards. Tavelle raised Anvil's Edge, formed a defensive stance, and beckoned the creature forwards with his left hand... the figments did the same.
I can't tell you how impressed I was with how Tavelle had managed the fight so far, it was almost a shame that Erael was due back. I know i'd rolled some rubbish dice but that's just how it goes sometimes. My own character, Farrel, had recently turned in some of the worst dice rolling that I can ever remember when Tavelle's player had DM'd for me. They had literally been cursed! The strangest part was that it coincided with a decision by my character to remove a large gem that was sacred to Dumathoin... Farrel's intention was to return the huge uncut diamond to the stout folk and away from the place where it lay unguarded. It was only when he finally rid himself of the stone that his dice rolling started perking up... strange but true.
- Tavelle's light sensitive silver eyes were forced to squint as a small orb of electricity slammed into the wight and sent it sprawling to a final death (39/26).
Erael had cast a Lesser Orb of Electricity at the wight. The ranged touch attack was successful and the Orb inflicted 34 points of damage (7, 8, 7, 8, and 4. My d8's had been on a streak with Anvil's Edge earlier during the melee). Erael's draconic Fortitude had shrugged off the two negative levels from the previous night's encounter and was back to her full caster level of 7th.
- The horses had quietened down somewhat but were still nervously whinnying. Tavelle heard Erael call out his name and the sorceress appeared into view as she ran into the stable entrance.
- Tavelle had been considering complaining about Erael's Orb stealing his kill... but his jaw had dropped open... "Sweet Selune", he whispered. Erael stood unclad, illuminated in the starlight, "Are you injured, are you hurt?", she asked hurriedly as she approached him.
"Thank Selune Tavelle's got Low-Light Vision... please don't let it run out yet", said Tavelle's owner.
- Tavelle managed to take a breath and blink twice before replying, "Erm?".
To be continued...
|
 |
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 23 Mar 2012 : 14:27:37
|
Continuation...
I described the unclad form of Erael to Tavelle's player and he seemed, for once, to not know what to do, "Damn it! I can't just stand there gawping!", he declared.
- Tavelle cast his gaze towards his black riding boots, "I'm unharmed... what of the other wights?", he asked. "They have been dealt with", replied Erael. Tavelle kept his eyes lowered towards the stable floor.
Tavelle's player gave me a grin, "Now that i've comitted everything i've just seen to memory i'm going to attempt unbroken eye-contact! Do you want a Concentration check?". He does make me chuckle. I set the DC at 20 and was even thinking about making it higher. Tavelle's player fluked a roll of 17 and walked it.
- Tavelle raised his silvery eyes to meet Erael's. "These wights are larger than the two frozen behind the other barn" declared the sorceress as she cast her gaze to the body of the wight within the stables. "The bastards drained the life from that mare, I think it changed them and made them stronger. I would guess that they were freshly, err... undeaded? Is that even a word?". Erael raised an eyebrow and laughed, "I don't think so, Tavelle. Why aren't you blinking?".
- "I'm maintaining eye contact!", laughed the wizard. Erael laughed with him, "You recovered very well, it reminded me of the way Vallendras would meet my gaze, he would blink though".
- Tavelle blinked but kept his eyes locked in contact and smiled, "We should depart and either find you some clothes or...", "Quiet! Listen", snapped Erael.
Tavelle's owner carried on speaking "Or hope this stable has a hayloft!". It did make me laugh as I could just imagine Tavelle trying to explain how he got a black eye to Naema.
- Tavelle stopped in mid sentence and concentrated on listening... a dog was barking... quite a big dog.
The Rodrathe's were concerned as to what was going on in their stables and had plucked up the courage to investigate. They had a couple of survivors from the ill fated patrol from Peldan's Helm that Kinara had directed towards the farms. They also had Lurch the Damaran Wolfhound. They had seen a great silver ram eject something from the stable and a small orb of lightning obliterate it...
- "The farmer's?", asked Erael. Tavelle sheathed Anvil's Edge and looked at Erael's shapely rear as she crept towards the entrance, "I'd guess so", he replied.
- Erael peeked around the stable doors, "There's half a dozen men out there with a big dog", she whispered. Tavelle's Low-Light Vision was on its last legs but he could tell the group had more than one light source. "I have to hide!", exclaimed Erael. "You definitely have to hide", agreed Tavelle, "I will go to them, stay out of sight".
Tavelle's owner gave me a look of panic and annoyance, "If Naema gets wind of this she'll kill me!".
- Erael made her way further into the stables and started looking at a rear stall. Tavelle had just exited the doorway when he heard the distinctive horn call of the Riders of Mistledale from the group with lanterns. Tavelle took up his own signal horn, pressed it to his lips and sounded the call for a rider returning.
"First time i've done that for real", said Tavelle's owner.
- The group from the main building were clearly visible to Tavelle due to the numerous light sources and he approached slowly. The dog was a monster and it was straining against its leash, four were obviously common folk, two wore the livery of the militia and had swords drawn. He guessed that they had seen him when he was about forty feet away, "Rider of Mistledale?", he heard one man inquire.
- "Mage of Mistledale", declared Tavelle.
|
|
|
|
Snow
Learned Scribe
USA
125 Posts |
Posted - 25 Mar 2012 : 00:24:00
|
Farrel,
I hope you don't have intentions of ceasing your posts. This thread is incredibly interesting! In fact, I'm going to re-read it tonight. My primary "most loved" geography in all the Realms is Daggerdale. Mistledale is definitely in my Top 5.
Thanks again for all your detail, minutiae and creativity!
Cheers,
Snow |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 25 Mar 2012 : 21:53:36
|
Hi Snow,
Thanks for taking the time to comment 
I hope you enjoyed the re-read?
I do intend to keep chronicling the campaign but i've had scant little time of late. I'd rather DM or prepare my notes than write it all down. I was only spurred into action with my last update after a particularly amazing play session. Tavelle's owner was DMing for my namesake, Farrel. It was the climax of a series of stories intertwining all at once that has left me and my character baffled and stunned... but that's another story.
I'd still like people's help and input, a character, adventure hook, or just ideas. I've been trying to work on a chronological time-line, month by month, leading towards the ToT for Mistledale and its environs. I haven't gotten very far with that though.
Thanks again for your kind words, Snow (It's really weird but your username features very heavily in Tavelle's future). |
Edited by - Farrel on 25 Mar 2012 21:54:33 |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 22 May 2012 : 22:28:42
|
Update (14th August 2011)
- The two men wielding longswords sheathed their blades, Tavelle noted that they looked tired and drawn. The elder of the militia smiled and offered his hand. "Well met Tavelle, I saw you at the Barracks of the Riders when you arrived. I'd seen that great Silver Ram of yours when you cast it for The Shield, i'm Harran, this is Gothalt". Tavelle shook the mans hand firmly and noted that the common folk looked anxious, the wolfhound continued barking loudly."Well met, all of you", said the Mage and directed a question towards the militiamen, "Were you a part of Kinara's patrol?".
- Gothalt spoke, "Aye, we were ambushed by four wights at the Berwick farm. Three of us escaped, we sent Uldred to Ashabenford on a fast horse", the militiaman was a few years older than Tavelle and alot more weathered. Tavelle nodded, "Four of you escaped the wight's ambush, Darvan is with the two and a half patrols at the Lannane Farmstead but is badly injured". The two militiamen gave each other a relieved look, "I'm still hoping that there are more survivors", said Harran.
"They stayed to protect the farmers, I like these two", said Tavelle's player.
- The oldest of the farmers inquired, "You must be Neweskul's lad?", Tavelle nodded and arched an eyebrow, the portly farmer continued, "I'm Womfwey Wodwathe, this is Clawwith my eldest".
- Clarrith was about Tavelle's age but was alot burlier, he nodded and gave Tavelle a smile, "Name's Clarrith". The Damaran Wolfhound was still pulling against its leash and Clarrith gave it a sharp yank. Romfrey introduced the other two men, "This is Dunton, my younger bwother, and his boy Parthel".
- Tavelle exchanged greetings with the Rodrathe's. Harran rubbed his grey beard, "What are you doing out here alone?". Before Tavelle had time to reply Parthel interjected with a question of his own,"Did they kill the horses?". Clarrith tugged at the leash of the Wolfhound, "Are there anymore around, I think Lurch can sense something's near?".
"Here we go again with the questions", grumbled Tavelle's owner.
- Tavelle looked at Harran, Parthel and Clarrith answering each of them in turn with, "I'm not out here alone", "Only one, a brown mare", and, "I wouldn't wander near the stables, there maybe more wights about".
- Tavelle noted that Parthel didn't take the death of the mare at all well, "Nooo! Not Blossom!", he wailed.
- Harran looked puzzled, "Who's here with you?", he asked.
- Gothalt looked confused, "How have you managed to travel from the Lannane Farm, it's too far away?
- Dunton pointed at an Ioun stone, "What are those two floating things?".
- Lurch continued barking in the direction of the stables and Clarrith looked about into the darkness.
"I hate it when I have to explain stuff, Tavelle's telling so many lies it's quite difficult to keep track", said Tavelle's player. "I reckon the fleabag dog can sense, or smell, Erael in the stables", he added.
- Tavelle explained that Nelyssa's patrol had encountered a wandering sorceress, that had slain a huge wyvern, near the Lannane farm and that she had offered her assistance. The sorceress had cast a powerful enchantment on a horse, to increase its speed significantly, and the pair were sent to harrass and protect the farms near the Berwick holdings. The four wights that they had slain had split into two groups, a pair in the stables that slew Blossom, and a pair that never made it to the cattle shed. He informed the assembled group that he suspected that "Erael, the sorceress, was trying to find their 'spooked horse' in the orchards". The last sentence he said slightly louder, hoping that Erael was listening.
- The Low-Light Vision enchantment expires. Tavelle is plunged into the relative darkness of the lanterns. He realises that the farmers would have seen very little of the battle apart from the flashes of unleashed spells.
- Tavelle continues and explains that the two stones that are floating around him sharpen his senses and strengthen his magic, "Whilst my eyes were silver I was able to see in this... darkness... that enchantment has just run out", he said ruefully.
- Harran and Gothalt looked at each other in astonishment, "You slew two wights?", asked the pair in unison. Tavelle gave an embarrassed smile, "Near enough. I found that fighting two was a nightmare, so I ejected one from the stable with the Silver Ram and Erael finished it off", Harran nodded a satisfied expression. "The other wight in the stable was all my own work", said Tavelle with some measure of pride.
- The main door to the farmhouse opened, "Romfrey! What's going on out there?", called a harsh female voice (think of Howard's mother in The Big Bang Theory).
- Tavelle saw all the assembled men either wince or cringe. Lurch keeps straining against his leash.
"Who the hell was that?", said Tavelle's player.
- A burly figure could be seen, silhouetted in the doorway. Romfrey paled visibly and replied, "Nothing to wowwy about my sweet, a wider has vanquished the undead howwors".
- Tavelle's enhanced senses heard the ping of breaking metal, it seemed that everyone elses attention was drawn to the farmhouse. Lurch barrelled towards the stables, snarling viciously, his leash had snapped.
"<censored>!", said Tavelle's owner.
- Tavelle broke into a run after Lurch.
- Clarrith started getting up from the ground.
- Tavelle found himself halfway between the group and the stables. He could barely make out the dog as Lurch disappeared inside, barking furiously.
"I'm hoping she sneaked off... please let her have sneaked off!", said Tavelle's player.
- Tavelle heard a high pitched yelp, his enhanced hearing heard a series of yelps, getting progressively louder.
- Tavelle slowed his pursuit of the dog.
- Lurch sprinted from the stable, whining and yelping... the wolfhound ran straight past the mage, then the group with the lanterns, towards the farmhouse.
- Harran and Gothalt drew their swords. Harran turned to face the Rodrathe menfolk and was intending to tell them to "Get inside!" but they already had... all but Clarrith, who was holding the lantern and a snapped leash.
"I hope she's in the stable... please let her be in the stable!", joked Tavelle's owner.
- Tavelle reasoned that the horses would be alot more agitated if a wight had been present in the stables but he slowed his pace anyway.
"Tavelle needs time to think... I need time to think! What the hell do I say? Well met everyone, this is Erael, she's a bit eccentric and is not fond of clothes?", said Tavelle's player.
- Gothalt and Harran stood their ground with Clarrith, "Tavelle, what can you see? Is it a Wight?", called Harran nervously.
- Tavelle stopped just outside the doors to the stables, he could hear the horses, they were nervous but not terrified like before. The mage peered into the darkness of the stables and wished that the Low-Light Vision enchantment was still active, he couldn't see a damned thing.
- A bright set of eyes appeared in the darkness, pale blue and catlike.
- "Erael?", whispered Tavelle.
- "Mrawr...", purred the darkness.
to be continued...
|
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 19 Jun 2012 : 23:03:51
|
Continuation...
- Tavelle strained his eyes, trying to pierce the darkness of the stables, the sliver of Selune and a sprinkling of stars provided no help. Out of the blackness emerged a great cat, its thick, snow white fur had a dark spotted pattern. "Mystra's mysteries", whispered Tavelle in amazement.
"A snow leopard?", asked Tavelle's player, "Tavelle's jaw would've dropped by now".
- The snowcat padded silently towards the stunned mage, the only sounds his sensitive ears could pick out were the astonished gasps from the others, and Erael's loud purring. "You might've changed into your fur coat whilst I was with you in the stables. We might well be on our way by now?", whispered Tavelle with a smile.
- Tavelle noted that she was just over four feet long and that her head was around thigh height. Her tail was wide and thick, as were her paws, her expression was serene and almost regal. Tavelle removed his riding gloves as she sidled up to him, bumping his thigh like a rather large housecat. Tavelle steadied himself from the heavy nudge, he ran his hand along her shoulders and back, through the dense fur and down the length of her tail. Tavelle gave a slight shake of his head and mumbled, "Amazing".
I'd deliberately kept Erael's medium animal Alternate Form ability for a surprise occasion and I was pleased with how it had been introduced. I was certainly kicking myself when Tavelle had commented about changing in the stables, it would probably have been a more intelligent option to choose and I didn't consider it. I did have one more surprise for Tavelle's player in this session and I was confident that the information it brought was going to knock his socks off.
Tavelle's owner gave me a wide grin, "This I can explain! I really wasn't looking forward to explaining a naked sorceress, this I can handle".
- Tavelle heard Gothalt call, "I take it the cat's friendly?". The mage turned to face the trio with the snow leopard at his side, "Yes, Erael summoned her to aid us in fighting the wights. I assumed incorrectly that she was with her mistress".
- Tavelle walked back to the group with Erael padding silently alongside. The lantern provided a far clearer sight of the snow cats dark spotted white fur. "No wonder Lurch ran away, he's all bark and no bite", commented Clarrith. Harran laughed at the notion, "If i'd come across such a beast i'd have run away too, the mutt has some sense".
- The snow leopard looked up at Harran and let out a gentle, "Mrawr". The old militiaman smiled back into her blue eyes, "Can she understand me? What's her name?".
If i'm ever feeling cruel I can always make Tavelle's owner uncomfortable. I usually do this by asking him to make up a character name on the spot. It's the one thing that makes him squirm, that and 'character hooks'. Tavelle's owner gave me a filthy look of disgust...
Some time passed...
- "Her name is Sheer, and yes she can", said Tavelle. Harran knelt down in front of Erael and gingerly stroked the side of her head.
I had to admit that I liked the name he came up with. It was the sixth syllable of her entire name.
- "Is Liria with you lot at the Lannane farm?", inquired Gothalt. Tavelle nodded to Gothalt as 'Sheer' enjoyed the attention of Clarrith and Harran, "Yes, why do you ask?", inquired the mage. Gothalt chuckled and said, "I take it she's not seen the cat or she would've tried to saddle it".
- Tavelle was still chuckling about Liria when the farmhouse door opened and Romfrey called, "Is evewything alwight out there?". Clarrith stood up and answered, "Everything is fine father".
- Tavelle looked at the two militiamen and Clarrith, "I have to head back and report to The Shield at the Lannane Farmstead", Harran nodded, "Aye, what're your orders?". Tavelle raised an eyebrow, he was a little confused, "We volunteered to harrass the wights and patrol the farms north of the ride".
- Harran looked puzzled, "I meant for me an Gothalt, what're your orders for us?".
Tavelle's owner shrugged his shoulders, "I need to have a quick think".
- Tavelle looked at the militiamen, "I will inform Kinara and The Shield that you are continuing to protect the Rodrathe Orchards. I would advise you to secure the farmhouse". Harran nodded and Tavelle continued, "The wights are only active in darkness, in the morning you should cremate the four wight bodies and Blossom".
- Harran nodded in agreement, "Good advice, but what about after that?". Tavelle shrugged, "If I am honest I don't know. The Reverend Harvestmaster and The Sword of the Morning are due to rendezvous at the Lannane farm. They may arrive sometime later today. The Shield and Lanneth were due to scout the Barrowfields in search of their lair. If they located it they may decide to attack before nightfall". Gothalt shook his head, "Lots of things to consider", and Tavelle had to agree, "Every nightfall they get the opportunity to increase their numbers, the Berwick and Lardagren farms are deserted, the animals slaughtered..."
- Harran interrupted the mage, "Whatever happens we most certainly owe all our lives to yourself, this sorceress Erael, and her cat". The praise made Tavelle feel uncomfortable and he was glad of the dim light to hide his reddening face.
- Sheer, bumped his leg, "Rawr!", she growled. Tavelle met the snow cats blue eyes, she looked impatient, "It is time for us to depart and find Erael. I will see if they can send reinforcements, but I cannot promise anything", said the mage ruefully.
- Harran clapped him on the bicep, "Don't you worry about us, you concentrate on destroying their lair", Tavelle nodded, "For Mistledale!", he declared. "For Mistledale!", Harran, Gothalt and Clarrith cheered.
- Tavelle noticed that Sheer had started padding towards the larger outbuilding where she had destroyed the wights. He started to make his way after her but turned towards the trio, "Remember, get inside and secure the building until dawn, may Selune watch over you all".
- Tavelle turned back towards where the snowcat had been heading, "Bugger it! I can't see a damned thing". His hearing picked out the occasional bleat of a goat, or sheep, and a large cattle shed loomed out of the darkness. Tavelle edged around the building, towards the rear, before turning the corner he glanced back at the Rodrathe farmhouse and saw the window shutters being closed.
- The mage rounded the corner of the shed and nearly stumbled into two frozen wight corpses. The cold had blasted great chunks out of them, the ground where they were positioned was hard and sparkling with ice. Eraeliglasheer was sat on her haunches, clutching two pieces of something together. Tavelle turned his gaze to the side of the wooden cattle shed, it too had harsh glimmer of cold about it.
- "Clangeddin's beard! What did you do to my rope?", asked the dragon, her blue eyes staring intently at him.
Tavelle doesn't have any ranks in the Use Rope skill, the DC for a firm knot is only 10. Tavelle's owner can be a bit paranoid at times (especially when Tavelle might come into peril, and i'm pretty sure that the heroics in the stable was just a blip) so he ties alot of knots.
- "I'm sorry, I don't like the idea of falling off, I tied a few knots", he gave the silver dragon an apologetic smile. Erael continued to cast Mending enchantments on the rope until it was as new. The pair discuss the snow leopard form as they secure the backpack together, the dragon tells Tavelle that she used to watch the snow cats in the Galena Mountains.
- Tavelle clambers atop the backpack and secures himself with the rope. "Don't tie too many awkward knots, we need to make it back to the Lannane farm at some point today, if you fall off I will enact a feather fall enchantment", grinned the dragon. Tavelle pulled a face, "If we're flying high will the enchantment last long enough for me to reach the ground?", the dragon shrugged, "I would hope so?", she replied.
"Stuff that! I'm tieing another knot", said Tavelle's owner.
- "You're tieing another knot?", laughed Erael. "Yep, you shrugged", laughed Tavelle and continued, "That's the difference between me reaching the ground safely, or, making a red mess on the ground".
- Eraeliglasheer shook her head in confusion, "Where is the brave swordmage that slaughtered two wights and helped save the Rodrathe's?".
- Tavelle gave the silver dragon a mischievious grin, "Secured and back in the bottom of my satchel, he won't escape again".
to be continued...
|
|
|
|
vigilantej
Acolyte
USA
3 Posts |
Posted - 29 Jun 2012 : 15:19:20
|
| Greetings this is my first time here I was very interested in what your writing read parts of it, and i saw you said your moving toward the ToT im hoping you mean times of troubles or I am going to look stupid lol. if it is the Times of Trouble I have some unqie characters you could add and if you like them i could even periodically update them as I am currently running a campaign where its -339 DR Year of sundered webs 1 year before the events of Krasus's folly. Currently the part is a mix between level 5 and 6 using 3.5 rules set though. One of the main characters a level 5 elf psion/ wizard (we use the just alt system where characters get two classes as our party number fluctuates depending on whos available to play at the time). So The wizard psion named Grif Alianor was sent to learn at Krasus enclave due to his psionic ability as well as his connection to Arcane magic. But he is basically sent off on a mission to obtain a magic item from a licth who owes him a favor in the Thayd empire what makes Grif Alianor so special is before he joined the enclave he like most Elfs who had magic sensitivity learned magic from the Elven teachers him and his teacher a beautiful young fair looking elf lady Ayleth Gladstone fell in love and had a romantic relationship. But little did he know she was a powerful necromancer and a litch who used her magic to preserve her body and disguise the fact she was intact undead. (i told him all of this back story kinda against his will but he liked, his action take part after learning about her identity) but once he learned of this he still accepted her as he had fallen in love with her (together for 3 years before going to the enclave where they still had a long distant relation ship) and using a bit from the book of vile darkness 3.5 he was giving the Litchloved feat where mindless undead see him as an undead and disregard him. but the way the book explains it is it leaves a mark that the undead and see so I have it set up where all undead Vampires ect see him as someone who accepts undead and is a friend ( ex a vampire will usually attack any one it thinks it can kill but in Grifs situation it may leave him alone or may not at dm's discretion) so that why he was chosen to go into the Thayd empire as it has the highest population of undead. now as the session has progressed he has grouped up with 5 others (again their has only been one instance in 7 sessions where all 5 where together)and they are now crossing into the thayd empire and the deity Vecna (Grif doesn't share the beliefs) showedh im a glimpse into the future of what will happen in Krasus attempts to cast his spell and offers him power and to protect him from the fallout if he swears allegiance to him. But grif not being Evil and having the same agenda as Vecna refused to worship him but did agree to help him with w/e he wants in exchange for protection. From this point on the adventure will pick up pretty quick and once Krasus catss his spell Vecna will uphold his deal and protect them by using the magic discharged from the events to throw Grif and his party into the future at the Times of Trouble to help his agenda and try and use them as pawns to gain more power. Now none of my Pc's are over powerd their simply special by their back story and each of them has roll played their character pretty good giving them diverse personality strong beliefs and something from their past that gives them a character flaw like Grif having the litchloved feat gaining benefits of undead not immediately trying to kill him but persists of good faiths that hate undead such as the silver flame think what he did was blasphemes and would love to make him an enplane and kill him for what he did and he shows up as evil when spells such as detect alignment are cast on him (this from my interpretation of the alignment system in dnd is that all undead are evil and allies of undead and who actively accept them also show up as evil as its in contrast to the main beliefs of whats good and even though neither him nor his licth significant other are evil or bad people they are branded as such due to the majority beliefs of people in the forgotten realms. sorry for any spelling or other errors and if you have any question feel free to ask ill check daily and if you think his story might be an interesting person in your story be it a villain, friend, passing npc, or if you like the other pc's you can make them a recurring group either with, against, or neutral with your group |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 29 Jun 2012 : 21:12:25
|
Well Met vigilantej
Yep, you are spot on, ToT = Time of Troubles.
At the pace that our campaign is progressing I may well reach the ToT in about 2034 
Your campaign sounds very interesting, I haven't ever tried a game in the Netheril era.
It sounds like you really enjoy playing the character and I like the use of the Lichloved feat, very cool. It's almost a boon and a curse rolled into one.
There is a part coming up in my campaign with a cursed item of a similar nature...
If you could stat out Grif and either post him in this scroll or send him to me via a private message that would be great.
|
|
|
|
vigilantej
Acolyte
USA
3 Posts |
Posted - 29 Jun 2012 : 23:00:27
|
| ya that's fine ill even explain him better i wrote that when i was half sleep and wasn't sure you knew what mechanics I was using and you could have him appear any time and the pc who is playing is very honored you enjoyed his character (its the first time he tried like rping and doing a back story)ill have his stats up later tonight once i got his character sheet for our gaming session tonight |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 02 Jul 2012 : 19:00:54
|
I asked Tavelle's player to come up with a list of things that Tavelle would like to do once his patrol had finished and his time was his own again. We've decided to roleplay as much as possible, Tavelle's player has really gotten into the character, and wants to see how he develops. There are some decent clues to what Tavelle's owner is planning for the future. They're not in any particular order of preference.
1) Introduce Erael to Nereskul and Kerryn.
- Ask Nereskul to teach Erael Craft Wondrous Item.
2) Return to Glen and visit Asantar.
- Introduce Erael to Asantar.
- Have a proper look around.
- Ask Asantar if it is possible to "Silver" Anvil's Edge.
3) Visit Sharin Freehold.
- Visit Lanneth.
4) Visit the Standing Stone with Naema.
5) Look into making a Lesser Traveller's Cloak.
- Ask Kerryn to craft a cloak suitable for enchanting.
6) Visit Brondar's small farm.
- Seek advice from Brondar on improving his martial skills.
- Look at buying some "Watch-Geese".
7) Create 3 silver brooches.
- Each capable of casting a Message spell for the Riders of Mistledale.
8) Create an enchanted cloak clasp for Kerryn.
- A duplicate of his own.
9) Try to convince Nereskul into getting out and about more.
10) Return to Stumphill.
11) Visit Elvencrossing.
12) Visit Peldan's Helm.
- Visit Kinara.
13) Meet with Derim Whiteshield.
- Discuss his mother.
- Learn the Celestial language.
14) Craft some Jewelry to sell + Take up Multhimmer on his offer to sell it = Gold.
15) Visit Oakengrove Abbey.
To be honest I wasn't expecting such a big list - I won't complain, it's kept us busy. I can't really detail my own plans, as DM, due to Tavelle's player visiting Candlekeep regularly.
|
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 16 Jul 2012 : 16:19:03
|
Continuation...
I think Tavelle's owner was referring to a quote from Torm of the Knights of Myth Drannor. I can barely remember it but it was regarding his "honour" and the fact that he said he kept it stowed safely in the bottom of his backpack, and would take it out occasionally to look at it. You only have to mention the Knight of Myth Drannor, called Torm, and it makes Tavelle's player grind his teeth... It's quite funny to watch.
- Tavelle was confident he was securely lashed to the backpack, "I think the best way to explain my paranoia is that i'd rather meet my end against spells or blades, rather than falling from a great height due to a poorly tied knot or two. One of my worst fears is the big silver buckle on your backpack going ping, and a patrol of my fellow Mistrans finding my flattened corpse, beneath the pack, somewhere in the countryside", the mage gave a strained laugh at the closing words.
- Erael laughed, "Fear not Tavelle, that would never happen".
- The mage raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "Oh, why is that?".
- Erael turned her neck to face the wizard, "I would have remembered to retrieve my pack".
- The dragon and the mage had a good chuckle, "Shall we be away?", he asked. Erael unfurled her great wings and broke into a run, with two great beats they were aloft and flying low over the many apple and plum trees.
- The pair flew directly south back towards the Lannane Farm. Tavelle rested one hand on the butt of his wand of magic missiles (6 charges) and the other on the hilt of Anvil's Edge.
- Erael flew quickly, her wings pounded a steady rhythm, and she only soared on a few occasions. Tavelle looked upwards, towards the dark sky and the many twinkling stars, Selune and her trailing tears were obscured by a blotchy bank of clouds. The mists had started to form across the landscape, they looked denser than normal.
"I think Tavelle will be going to sleep under the stars when we return to camp", said Tavelle's owner. I had to admit that I thought it would still be dark when they got back to the patrol at the farm. They would make it back by about 04:00 and the sun wouldn't rise until 05:15. I've been very sketchy with my dates up until this point, i'd designated that Tavelle's back story (pfft!) would start in late spring (Mirtul) and I have estimated that, so far, we had gone about three months+ from that? The resanctification of the grove to Silvanus and Chauntea was just before Midsummer Night. The Chaunteans had donated a large surplus of Harvest Mead to Ashabenford and the surrounding hamlets in time for the celebrations. I decided not to get too hung up over the specific dates and just roll with it and enjoy the game.
- It wasn't long before Tavelle noticed that Erael banked sharply, and started reducing her altitude, in readiness to land, "Are we back already?", asked the mage in astonishment. The dragon turned her head slightly, "The distance was not too great, we have made good speed", she replied.
- They landed softly in the same copse of silver birches that they had earlier departed from, it was now cloaked in the thick billowing mists. Tavelle started working on the knots securing him to the backpack, Erael was right, I did tie a few too many, thought the wizard.
"If I get to fly with Erael some more, I think it'd be a good idea to design a harness, with a buckle or two, to secure myself to the pack", reasoned Tavelle's owner. "Tavelle will need to have a word with Lhuin", he continued.
- Tavelle slipped down from the backpack and rubbed some life back into his buttocks. He picked up the rope and coiled it up as Erael unbuckled the pack and set it down gently. "Anarshas", whispered the mage and started opening the large pack, from it he withdrew Erael's clothes, boots and swordbelt.
- Tavelle placed the coiled length of rope back into the bag and withdrew the pouch that Erael had produced the Ioun Stones from. The mage concentrated on the Ioun Stones and mentally commanded them to float to his open palm. As soon as their orbit had ceased Tavelle felt his enhanced senses fade. He carefully placed them both back into the pouch, pulled the drawstring closed, and put it in the magical pack.
- Tavelle noticed a sturdy silver coffer. It bore beautiful engravings of silver dragons and the holy symbols of Moradin, Dumathoin, and Clangeddin. Erael was busily getting changed into her clothes as Tavelle lifted the heavy silver coffer out of the backpack, it was then he saw an inscription in Dethek, "Stone and Silver", he translated aloud.
- "The workmanship on this coffer is amazing", said the mage. Erael smiled and came closer as she fastened her swordbelt and carefully lifted the silver lid. Tavelle looked into the coffer, it was lined with eight small scarlet pillows of crushed velvet. Atop each pillow was a large, thick, ring crafted of heavy silver and encrusted with bloodstones.
- As Tavelle studied the workmanship of the large rings, Erael explained, "They belonged to my parents and brother, a pair were crafted when I was hatched but I was never able to wear them".
- The rings were too large to be worn on a finger but Tavelle had seen Asantar wear something slightly plainer in braids of his beard.
"Dwarven beard rings... Bugger me!", said Tavelle's player. He then fell silent as a few things started to fall into place. "I hadn't considered it for a second but this means Erael's parents and brother would transform into dwarves. Just how closely linked were the two clans?", asked Tavelle's player.
I think we're pretty lucky as DM's. I get to see Tavelle's player piece all of the clues and hints together and have all these mini revelations and ideas. One thing I will say is that Tavelle's owner is a master at the bigger picture (when he DM's). During a campaign you have to be on your toes to pick up all the information.
- "Your family would transform into Dwarves? I hadn't even thought about the possibility...", Tavelle went silent, it was quite alot to take in. Erael knelt down next to the mage, "The bonds between our clans go back many generations. My great grandsire forged the first alliance and over the centuries the Dwarves and my family, tempered, and strengthened our ties".
- Tavelle looked sideways to the sorceress, "Stone and Silver, the dwarves and the dragons" (*translated from Dwarvish), stated the wizard. Erael nodded, "Stone and Silver" (*translated from Dwarvish), she echoed softly.
"Damn it! I've so many questions!", said Tavelle's player, "I haven't a clue how to ask them though!". Tavelle's owner explained that Tavelle suspected Erael had run (or flown) away after the death of her brother and Vallendras. The clergy of Torm that were present sounded like a bunch of idiots and had almost hounded her out. "Why Mistledale?", he pondered.
- Tavelle bit his lip, he wanted to ask Erael so many questions, many were of a personal nature and he didn't want to annoy or upset her. There had been one question that had been bugging him since Erael first mentioned Vallendras Lionswrath...
- "Erael, how did you, erm, decide on your current form?", inquired the wizard rather meekly.
"If they all look like Erael in the Galenas it may well be worth a visit", joked Tavelle's player.
- Tavelle watched Erael closely, he noticed that she blushed slightly and shifted her kneeling position somewhat. "After I first met Vallendras, I knew I was in love with him. I could've chosen the Shield Dwarven form of my family but I wanted to be like him", said the sorceress. The mage nodded his understanding and Erael continued, "My sire had a library in his lair within Stoneshield Hall, it was vast and my father liked to read alot. Among his many treasured tomes and grimoires was a holy book sacred to the goddess Sharess".
"I'd like to borrow that particular book! You have to hope there'd be alot of pictures", chuckled Tavelle's owner.
- "I hadn't seen a human, prior to seeing Vallendras, so I took inspiration from a particular portrait within the tome. It was the High Sensate Sendarra Corvesk, a noted favorite of Sharess, I thought she was beautiful", said Erael, "She must have been, and you are", added the mage.
- Erael smiled at Tavelle, "I made some changes, my hair colour is the same as my kin, and in the portrait Sensate Sendarra's breasts were larger", she giggled.
- Tavelle raised an eyebrow and laughed, "Larger? Surely you jest?".
- The sorceress gave the mage a playful jab on the bicep, and Tavelle rubbed his bruised arm, "Did I say that aloud? I was only meant to think it", he Laughed. Erael continued, "If i'd known these would be so awkward I would've made them smaller still. Earlier, when I ran from the cattle shed to the stable, I nearly knocked myself out twice!", Erael had started to giggle and so had Tavelle.
- Tavelle was still laughing as he stood up and summoned Patches.
- The mage helped Erael with the backpack and said, "When we were in the stable, and you were naked, I noticed something...", Erael turned to Tavelle and seemed to half frown and smile at the same time, "Proceed carefully", said the sorceress. Tavelle gave Erael the most innocent look available to him, "I noticed the bruises had disappeared, have you recovered fully?", he asked. The sorceress smiled and nodded, "Yes, thankyou".
"Let's hope Corster and Darvan are just as hardy", said Tavelle's owner.
- Tavelle mounted Patches and helped Erael into the saddle behind him, the mists were thick and largely undisturbed as they trotted out of the trees. The pair headed back in the opposite direction they travelled earlier the previous evening.
- During the journey back to the Lannane farm Tavelle tells Erael more of his sister and father. They work on their version of the night's activities and decide that they should only admit to slaying the undead at the Rodrathe Orchards and a single pack of four wight while they were mounted.
- The pair see the burning watchpyres and moving torchlight from quite a distance way.
"I hate not having Low Light Vision", remarked Tavelle's owner.
- As they approach Erael describes that there are militia on watch.
"Well, I can see moving torches, so that's a good sign", commented Tavelle's owner.
- "The camp seems untroubled", says the sorceress.
"Well, there's no erratic movement of torchlight", reasoned Tavelle's player.
- The dragon continues and names a few of the militia.
"Yeah, now that's just showing off", said Tavelle's owner.
- Erael remarks that Buross is circling them.
"I really need to sort out a Gem of Low-Light Vision like Naema's", commented Tavelle's player.
- Tavelle removed the Horn of Mistledale from his belt and offered it to Erael, "Would you mind?". Erael took the horn and signalled the call for a Rider returning, a moment later a response could be heard from the camp.
To be continued...
|
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 17 Oct 2012 : 19:42:29
|
Continuation...
Campaign note: Tavelle's player decided that he would drop the Windwalker part of his name as he thought it fitting to take on his adopted family name, Kralikh. I was quite happy he dropped the Windwalker bit, it was a remnant of a previous incarnation of Tavelle that he created in 1991. I was the DM and the game lasted two or three sessions before my focus switched to something else.
- The horn call from the camp at the Lannane farm sounded long and loud. The mounted pair trotted out of the low hanging mists and into the light of a fiercely burning watchpyre.
- As they drew closer a small group of four figures approached through the shield wall. Tavelle could make out Nelyssa, Lanneth, Kinara, and Naema in the light from the burning pyres. The two groups met about forty feet from the shield bearers, "You two are a very welcome sight, how was your patrol?", smiled Nelyssa. Tavelle returned the smile, "Eventful, to say the least", he replied.
- Naema stepped up towards Patches and addressed Tavelle, "You are unharmed?".
- "We are both unharmed", corrected the mage. Tavelle tracked Naema's eyeline and realised that she was looking at Erael's hands around his waist, her eyes locked his, and she raised an eyebrow as if somewhat unamused.
"I think Tavelle is in trouble", said Tavelle's player.
- "Well? What happened? Did you encounter any wights?", asked Lanneth.
- "How far north did you manage to get? What of the farms?", asked Kinara.
- Tavelle at first thought to address the questions in order but then decided against it. The mage looked to Kinara, "We got as far as the Rodrathe Orchards, who are fine, it was where we met up with Gothalt and Harran. They had sent Uldred on a fast horse to take word to Ashabenford".
- Tavelle noted Kinara looked relieved, "Thank Tymora! Darvan wasn't the only survivor", she breathed. Tavelle looked to Nelyssa, "The Berwick and Lardagren farms had been hit by the wights the night previously. We arrived in time to thwart four wights that had plans for the Rodrathe's".
- Erael chimed in, "Tavelle slew the two that had made their way into a stable and I dispatched two intent on a cattle shed". The mage noticed an odd look of astonishment cross Naema's face as the rider balked, "You killed two of them?".
- Tavelle smiled, "Well, to be fair, Erael finished one of the two that I was fighting so I can only claim a wight and a half", Erael chuckled and added, "The sour look he gave me said that he had things well in hand".
- Nelyssa smiled warmly, "You have done well, the wights did not trouble the camp this night. To know that four of their number has fallen is good news".
- "Before we encountered the wights at the Rodrathe farm we slew four others, while mounted, a few miles north of the Barrowfields. I say we, but it was Erael mainly", added Tavelle, he turned and gave a smile to the sorceress. The mage noted that Lanneth and Nelyssa exchanged looks, Kinara patted Patches neck, and Naema trudged off back into the main camp.
- Lanneth and Kinara help Erael dismount and the sorceress brought the patrol leaders up to speed, with the nights events, as they make their way into the farm turned camp. Tavelle dismisses Patches and asks after the health of Corster and Darvan, "They are back to their old selves", remarks Lanneth. Nelyssa explains that the pair had shaken off the effects of the wights touch.
- The group make their way through the camp to the Shield's tent. Along the way to the tent Tavelle and Erael are welcomed back from their patrol by the assembled militia.
- Once inside the tent Tavelle asks after the foray into the Barrowfields. Nelyssa nods to Lanneth and the Ranger informs Tavelle that they had located the lair of the wights. "The tracks were fresh and numerous. They led to a large central mound surrounded by six smaller barrows. From the looks of the ground in the area it's heavily tunnelled".
- Tavelle had guessed from the exit that Erael had spotted while flying over the Barrowfields that the wights were underground.
"Crawling and ducking through muddy tunnels isn't Tavelle's idea of fun", moaned Tavelle's owner.
- Nelyssa informs the pair that she expects The Reverend Harvestmaster, and the Sword of the Morning, to arrive later today and that they should seek rest. Erael asks if there is any spitted pig left as she could eat a horse. She tells Tavelle that she intends to sleep under the stars this night, well, what's left of it anyway.
- The pair are congratulated once again as they are dismissed from the tent. Erael and Tavelle make their way through the camp, towards the smell of food, "I don't think there's going to be much pig left once i've finished with it", laughed the sorceress. Erael bids Tavelle to go and get some sleep.
Tavelle's owner gave me a sour look, "I'm going to check on Fury".
- Tavelle made his way towards where the horses had been gathered and hobbled. He found the huge, coal black, stallion amongst the group. As the wizard approached Fury the horse whickered and nodded its head as if in greeting.
- The stallion's bristly lips nuzzled his palm and Tavelle patted the muscled neck of the destrier. "I think I will seek sleep under the sliver of the Moonmaiden", said the mage to the horse, "Naema's in a foul mood and i'm far too tired for an argument". Fury whinnied in agreement and started gently nibbling at his fingers.
- "I felt like a Rider of Mistledale at the Rodrathe's", continued Tavelle, "Admittedly I was aided by Erael's enchantments, but I felt comfortable with Anvil's Edge in my grasp". Fury continued to whicker and whinny, all the while listening intently to the ramblings of a tired wizard. "I've come a long way since that damned skeletal cockerel at the Unicorn's Charge", laughed the mage.
I believe a short explanation is in order... During the confrontation between Tavelle's first Patrol and the main body of Kendra's minions it became increasingly apparent that 6 hit points wasn't very much. I didn't write up the battle in the same detail that i've started to do now and there was an awful lot that I left out. I had thrown in some small undead animals, mixed with the humanoid skeletons. It was just to have some "easier" animals that were part of the roiling mass of undead. It ended up like a twisted variation of the Housecat vs Commoner, this time it was Skeletal Cockerel vs 1st Level Wizard. The undead bantam of doom nearly killed Tavelle... It turned out to be quite comical due to the chickens that were housed at the tower. I had included a moody cockerel that always gave Tavelle the hairy eyeball, and a hard time, when collecting the eggs. That particular cockerel had been killed whilst the Wavesilvers had taken refuge... I guess it came back with a grudge?
- Tavelle nearly jumped out of his skin when a female voice, at hip height, spoke, "Talking of 'cocks, the Morn Horn will be here later so I hear?", Tavelle composed himself and looked down to the silver haired halfling, "Liria! Damn it! You nearly gave me heartstop!", he paused for a moment, "What? Morn Horn?".
- Liria started to giggle, "The Morn Horn... The Pink Lancer...", she continued.
Tavelle's player gave me a funny look and started to laugh, "Is she talking about Jentar?".
- "The Morn Horn, is that what you call Jentar?", asked the mage, trying desperately to keep a straight face, "Yep", giggled the halfling, "If you get invited for morning prayers with him you'll see why", and she started laughing.
- Tavelle burst out laughing, he didn't really like Jentar all that much if truth be told, "The Pink Lancer!", he cackled loudly.
Tavelle had admitted that he had found it hard to like the Sword of the Morning since his scolding about offering to cast an Unseen Servant for the camp on his first patrol. Tavelle particularly hated the fact that the advice that Jentar had given him during the conversation turned out to be very valid. I've always played Jentar as a good man who just has rushes of blood (to the head) and an unswerving belief that the Morninglord is with him. He is a vigorous and energetic Paladin of Lathander who wants to claim glory for his god, he is reckless in that respect. This was the thing, above all, that had annoyed Tavelle's owner. Jentar had dumped an under strength patrol in the path of Kendra the Mad and her horde of undead. Tavelle was convinced that if it had not been for the Unicorn, and its animal followers, they would have all perished on the hill. That's another thing that I left out of the original writeup of the Unicorn's arrival, the summoned animals that helped bolster the militia's ranks. There had been a trio of brown bears, one had saved Tynan's life from a skeleton's spear with a great swipe of its claws. The floored militiaman had then been licked on the forehead by the bear before it wobbled off to kill more undead.
- The pair were laughing loudly, Tavelle was nearly crying. Liria managed to control herself for a moment to add, "Have you met his Handmaiden, Rosey Palm?", Tavelle shook his head and looked puzzled, "Nope, I thought i'd have heard of her at least?".
Tavelle's owner had been in stitches but was pretty much back in control until he cottoned on to who "Rosey" really was...
- "I've always thought Jentar was a <censored>!", whooped Tavelle, his mirth returned tenfold.
- The pair were in tears when a large figure appeared nearby, "Would you two keep it down, there's people trying to rest, and the sword of the morning can likely hear you!", barked Brondar.
Tavelle's owner's face was a picture of panic, "He's arrived already? Oh, bugger!".
- Liria went quiet and Tavelle shifted uneasily, "Jentar is here?", asked the mage.
- Brondar looked sternly at the pair, he was a huge imposing man and he didn't seem too impressed.
- "Hah! I had yer both!", exclaimed Brondar and he started to laugh, "He's likely still miles away, shut yer holes and get to bed the both of you".
Tavelle's player gave a sigh of relief, "Tavelle might have a laugh about the Morn Horn but he wouldn't like to upset the Paladin, he'd get battered".
- Tavelle gave Brondar a nod, he patted Fury, and turned to make his way into the tented area.
"Hold on a minute", said Tavelle's player warily.
- The mage halted, opened his fullcloak wide, and inspected his weaponbelt, "Liria, my wand if you please?". The silver haired halfling gave a grin and produced the slender wand from her cloak, "Sorry about that, force of habit", she smirked. Liria slipped off towards the tents and Tavelle slid the wand into its leather holster.
- Brondar watched Liria go, "What were you doing over here?", he asked.
- Tavelle gave the Rider an embarrassed smile, "I was talking to Fury about the events of this night". Brondar gave a nod of understanding, "Alot has happened recently, I heard about the wights that you and Erael killed, well done". Tavelle nodded, "Thanks Bron, so much has happened that my mind is in a spin". The large fighter placed his equally large hand on Tavelle's shoulder, "I'm around anytime you need to talk. I'd get some sleep as soon as you can, and watch out for Naema she's in a foul mood".
- Tavelle thanked Brondar once more and made his way towards Naema's tent. The mage ducked his head, as he made his way through the opening, and could see Naema sitting upright in her bedroll. "Where have you been?", asked the Rider of Mistledale. Before Tavelle could begin to reply Naema continued, "You've been with her again haven't you?".
- Tavelle started to try and explain that he had been speaking with Brondar and Liria but Naema wasn't listening and she cut him short again, "Why don't you go and spend the rest of the night with the <censored> big <censored> <censored>?"
I think I might have hammed it up a bit too much during this conversation. I do like to get into character with my NPCs and I wanted to get across Naema's insecurities. If anyone does want to know what lurks beneath the <censored> bits then I suppose you could always PM me...
- Naema's rant subsided, she had tears in her eyes but she wasn't crying. Tavelle knelt down in front of the Rider, "I don't want to be with Erael... I love you!", he said assertively. Naema stared into Tavelle's eyes as a tear traced down her cheek, "Really?", she said softly. Tavelle nodded, "Truly", he confirmed.
- Naema made a grab for the front of Tavelle's tabard, "Sweet Selune, come here", she growled, and pulled the mage towards her.
|
|
|
|
Dalor Darden
Great Reader
USA
4211 Posts |
Posted - 13 Nov 2012 : 21:47:43
|
| I'm still really enjoying your adventures! As you may, please post more! |
The Old Grey Box and AD&D for me! |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 20 Dec 2012 : 21:11:18
|
I'm glad to hear you're still reading, Dalor. When I have some more free time I will ping you a PM with a few questions/scenarios.
Update (28th August 2011)
Off-Screen.
- "Where in the nine hells do you put it all?", laughed Tynan with a look of astonishment upon his face. The militiaman had watched the sorceress devour six helpings of the spitted pig in a single sitting.
- "Hollow legs?", asked Serrick, with a smirk, as he smoothed the nicks out of his longsword with a whetstone.
- "I think i've eaten too much", groaned Erael as she stood and loosened her weaponbelt by a notch or two, "I need to sleep this off", she added.
- "I'll wake you in a ride then, goodnight", laughed Serrick. Tynan stood, "Goodnight milady, thanks for hanging around and helping", and he gave her a nod.
- Erael bid the pair goodnight and made her way to The Shield of Chauntea's tent, she collected her pack, made her way outside, and found a quiet spot. Her belly felt quite full, she had always preferred cooked food, rather than scared struggling animals, and eating the sheep at the Selmer Farm had been vile with all that wool. The sorceress lay down, propped her head on the backpack, and gazed at the twinkling stars that weren't obscured by clouds.
- Erael felt her eyelids getting heavy...
For everyone except Tavelle's player.
- Erael closed her eyes and was back within Stoneshield Hall. She could feel the pounding of hammer upon anvil, she could smell the forges, and she could hear the voice of Rhaurn "Rornarglar" Ironhaft, Son of Darahan, Blood of Garthor, High Old One of Clangeddin, The First Axe, whispering his dying prophecy.
- The sorceress stood in the brazier-lit stone hall, consecrated to the Morndinsamman. She had been summoned by the First Axe. He had been mortally wounded in a savage skirmish but stubbornly refused to pass on until he had spoken to her. The white-haired burly dwarf was still clad in his field chainmail, the plate had been removed. The silver chain was stained dark crimson in places. Erael watched weeping lines of blood run vertically down the stone dais, on which he lay.
- A tear traced down her cheek at the sight of Rhaurn's injuries, she had been informed that his patrol group had encountered one of the many surprises left by the priests of Orcus, and Zhengyi's mages. Not only had their undead red dragons taken Eristan and Vallendras, they had summoned a number of Glabrezu that still stalked the area since their departure. The dwarves had never felt more like true family to Erael and with each death she lost another brother or sister.
- "The twin fires will return... so shall the demon-spawned priests... these things have been shown to me by the Father of Battle in a dream...", the venerable dwarf reached out his thick hand and beckoned to her.
- Erael stepped closer and crouched down next to Rhaurn, she pushed her dark hair behind her ear, and leaned in. Despite his grievous wounds the old mountain dwarf was serene and calm, the sorceress felt her eyes well up with more tears. Rhaurn smiled and gently caressed her cheek.
- "The Rock of Battle is calling to me, his song is so beautiful... Erael, you must listen to me... the future of stone and silver hangs in the balance... you must seek the Heart of Winter... a weapon that will destroy both the unliving wyrms and their masters...".
- "Uncle Rhaurn, what must I do?", asked the sorceress.
- "Kendra the Mad has walked the Dale of Mists... she has awoken the Heart of Winter... you must travel to where the Mound King stirs...".
- Erael nodded, she had heard of this 'Dale of Mists' before, from Eristan and her parents, "Mistledale", she whispered.
- "Speak not a word of this to anyone but the King and the remaining High Old Ones, lest the enemy attempt to thwart your quest... the Witch-King's priests will bring an army with them... they will arrrive on the first day of Midsummer... the twin fires will not be far behind".
- Erael noted that Rhaurn's breathing had become alot shallower and his eyes seemed to be looking at some faraway place. Tears streamed down her cheeks and onto the dying dwarf's beard, he seemed to notice, "Cry not for me, dear Erael... give an old dwarf a kiss... to see him into the halls of the Father of Battle... remember to rub your chin daily with the gold comb... it can only help...".
- Erael's sorrow abated for a moment, at the mention of the beard comb, and leant in closer. She gave Rhaurn a kiss on the forehead and gently stroked his white beard, "Stone and Silver", she said softly.
- Rhaurn Ironhaft smiled serenely and replied, "Stone... and... Silver...", then passed into the realm of Clangeddin.
- Erael awoke with a slight jump, the glow on the horizon told the sorceress that it was nearing sunrise, and she turned over slightly to resume her rest.
to be continued...
|
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 17 Mar 2013 : 15:59:44
|
Continuation...
- Tavelle awoke alone to loud and very boisterous voices from outside the tent. The wizard found that trying to move wasn't the easiest, his breeches were around his knees and knotted within the bedroll. He had to laugh as he realised that he'd slept fully clothed, he hadn't even removed his boots or cloak, Naema had well and truly jumped him.
I've always played Naema as a bit of a tomboy, she is strong and athletic, due to her martial studies, and jumping a mage hadn't been an issue. Naema had initially been quite shy, the first few times that her patrol had stopped at the tower she hadn't spoken to anyone but Kerryn. Now that she was comfortable around Tavelle, and whenever they were alone, she would rather playfully overpower him.
I had to admit that I was somewhat dubious about Tavelle declaring his love for Naema, I even questioned Tavelle's owner about it after the session had finished. I hinted that Tavelle may have been thinking about Erael while he lay with Naema. Tavelle's owner had replied, "Nope, Erael's a dragon after all. I think it was just Tavelle's initial reaction to a beautiful sorceress... and he's a bit of a flirt". I was pleasantly surprised to hear this from the player and it reminded me of yet another part of the game that I skirted around detailing. It concerned Tavelle being led astray by a rather mischievious Cormyrian noble named Nalrun.
Prior to the night out at the Velvet Veil festhall Tavelle had met a young lady, called Kaliva, while visiting Jarwain's Textiles with Kerryn and Nalrun. Jarwain had been attending to Kerryn's requests while Nalrun had sparked up a conversation with Kaliva. Tavelle later met up with Kaliva, at the Velvet Veil, and while Nalrun found himself some professional company, they had talked, gotten very drunk, and had tried some of Nalrun's "special" pipeweed. The night had ended with Nalrun and Tavelle borrowing a wagon, to get Kaliva home, and the trio racing through the lanes while intoxicated out of their minds. That was the night Nalrun conceived a bastard in the festhall and, despite Kaliva trying her best, Tavelle didn't stray.
- Tavelle untangled himself and tied his breeches, he lowered his nose to his armpit and sniffed, "I really stink", he noted to himself. The laughing from outside the tent was loud and he could hear raised voices.
- "Has anyone checked to see if he's still alive?", said one, " I heard him screaming last night", said another, and it was greeted by a roar of mirth. Tavelle heard Liria's voice, "So, I hear the Swordmage found his sheath?", the comment was greeted by more loud laughter.
- Tavelle sat down on the bedroll and pulled his spellbook from the pack, "I'm definitely not going out there yet".
Wizard Spells Prepared (4/4/2 base DC = 14 + spell level; caster level 3rd)
0- Disrupt Undead x2, Message, Read Magic
1st- Burning Hands, Light of Lunia, Low Light Vision, Mage Armour
2nd- Battering Ram, Mirror Image
Wand of Magic Missiles (CL3; 6 Charges)
Scroll Case: Endure Elements (CL1); Mage Armour (CL3); Mount (CL5);
- Tavelle closed the tome and placed it back within his pack, the voices outside the tent were still audible, as they had been for the last hour. The mage stood and had to hunch over as he buckled his weaponbelt, he blew his cheeks out in a resigned sigh and pushed the tent flap to the side.
- As Tavelle stepped through the narrow opening he heard a mixture of raucous cries, "Aarrrr!", "Wahey!", "Sword-Mage!", "Yarrr!", "Woohoo!", and saw at least a score of the assembled militia each with a hand balled into a fist, and the other hand in the crook of the bent elbow in front of them.
- They were still whooping and laughing as Tavelle raised a dark eyebrow and shook his head, "Stuff the lot of you", he muttered. Tavelle could see members of Jentar's patrol among the militia and recognised the bowmen Eridge, Falmer, and Netley from The Unicorn's Charge.
- The militia gathered around the mage and clapped him on the back playfully, all the while still making the bent arm gesture and shouting their approval. Tavelle made his way through the crowd, in the direction of the Shield's tent, and ended up grinning along with the militia. It was well meant "banter", he reasoned, and it had certainly improved their mood.
- Liria sidled up to the mage, "Did you enjoy yourself last night, or were they cries of agony?", she squeaked playfully. Tavelle watched Liria like a hawk, he checked that his wand was still holstered at his hip (which it was), and asked, "Why do you think that it was me screaming? Why not Naema?". Liria started to laugh and brought her hand out from behind her back, "We talk about... you know? Erm, stuff? Here, have your dagger back, before I get her into trouble!".
- Tavelle shook his head, but had a wry smile, "I think I preferred hearing a yoink, where is Naema?", he asked, while sheathing his dagger. When his gaze returned to where the silver haired halfling had been standing he realised she had slipped silently away.
- Tavelle looked skywards and noted that, even though it was cloudy and overcast, it was past highsun, he made his way around a newly pegged tent with a fluttering pennant bearing the holy symbol of Lathander. The wizard saw a familiar large figure, clad in black lacquered plate mail, approaching. Brondar gave him a grin through his heavy beard, "I heard the noise and reckoned you were about, come with me, The Shield wants a word".
- Tavelle fell in behind the burly fighter, "Where's Naema?", he asked, "She's out scouting the land between here and the Moonsea Ride, so's Kinara", replied Brondar.
- The mage had to ask the burly Rider, "Did the militia give Naema a hard time too?", Brondar gave a snort, "They'd be sporting a few bruises if they did, besides, she's a Rider of Mistledale". Brondar informs Tavelle that Jentar had arrived mid-morning, and he had used the Horn of Quickening to leave the Chauntean contingent behind.
- "That's just typical!", the mage muttered to himself. Brondar stopped and turned to face Tavelle, "What're yer grumbling about?", he asked.
- Tavelle looked at Brondar, "Why couldn't he wait and accompany the Chaunteans?". Brondar shrugged, "I think he wanted to reinforce us as soon as he was able? You know what Jentar's like when there's the unliving about. He took a contingent of men, along with Erael, to scout the Barrowfields. The Shield wants you along too, so after the meeting we'll be heading off".
- The pair stood outside Nelyssa's tent, "After you, Sword mage", laughed the Rider, as he parted the tent flap and motioned for Tavelle to enter. Tavelle made his way inside the tent, it wasn't massive by any means, but it was large enough to accomodate a dozen people. Nelyssa was talking with Lanneth, they were both studying a parchment map of Mistledale.
Tavelle's owner gave me one of those grins, "Has he cleared some of the owl crap off of his padded shoulders? I'm hoping that by the time Tavelle gets access to 3rd level spells they'll be enough guano for a few fireballs... or is it just bat <censored>?".
I had described Lanneth's armour as having heavily reinforced shoulders, for when the great lump Buross was perched upon it. The eagle owl had recently suffered from a bout of the runs, and Tynan had joked to the mage about how long there would be streaks of crap down his sleeve, shoulder, and back.
- The half elf ranger gave him a nod and a smirk, "I hope you are well rested Tavelle, did you manage any sleep last night?", the wizard smiled and decided to give Lanneth a hard time over the hardened owl crap on his leathers, "I slept well, thankyou for asking. Is Buross still shatting everywhere, or is that from yesterday?", he grinned.
- Brondar attempted to stifle a roar of mirth and nearly strained something.
- Nelyssa laughed aloud and commented that she knew a priest who would love some for his prize roses.
- Lanneth took the jest playfully, "To be fair i'd begun to wonder why everything started to smell like curdled milk".
- Nelyssa explained to Tavelle that he would be joining up with Jentar's scouting party, The Sword of the Morning had requested his presence. The paladin of Chauntea reminds Tavelle that they should not enter the barrows, "The wights avoid sunlight, remember they aren't nocturnal, and they are always active", she adds.
During Tavelle's first sighting of a charging wight, I had played up their speed a little, and dropped hints that they were moving very quickly (they were still at their normal movement, I guess i managed a real life Bluff check?). It really, really, unnerved Tavelle's player. When he was flying atop Eraeliglasheer he was astonished at how far the wights had travelled, "They aren't burdened with fatigue, or having to rest, they're just relentless", he had commented.
- Nelyssa informed Tavelle that Erael had offered to patrol with him again this coming night, "If you're agreeable?", and the mage gladly accepted the command. Lanneth brought Tavelle up to speed with the news that the Riders, Captain Kuthe, Dairantha Shieldstone and Belmargh were patrolling the remainder of Mistledale. The patrol leaders dismissed the pair and turned their attention back to the map.
- Tavelle and Brondar made their way out of the tent, a light rain had started to fall. By the time they reached their waiting mounts the rain had intensified into a steady downpour. Brondar pulled himself up into the saddle of his splotchy grey stallion, "Ye have everything yer need?", Tavelle nodded as he placed his foot in Fury's stirrup, "Yes, I believe so". When Tavelle was comfortable in the saddle he raised the hood of his fullcloak to seek some respite from the rain.
- The pair made their way outside the perimeter of the farm outbuildings and past the watchpyres, Brondar nudged Tavelle on the arm, he had a grin showing through his beard, "I reckon Jentar's taken a fancy to Erael, he's invited her to dawn worship tomorrow, I'm thinking he wants to show her his morn-horn".
"Have I mentioned how much I hate Jentar?", said Tavelle's owner.
to be continued...
|
|
|
|
Dalor Darden
Great Reader
USA
4211 Posts |
Posted - 17 Mar 2013 : 20:42:16
|
| I'm still really enjoying the tale as it unfolds Farrel! Thanks for sharing. |
The Old Grey Box and AD&D for me! |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 27 Mar 2013 : 21:33:26
|
Cheers Dalor! I'm going to attempt a new update every two weeks as i'm so far behind.
Continuation...
Tavelle's owner had a disgruntled look about him and he started to have a moan, "I hope Erael has more sense than to fall for that strutting peacock... he''ll be clad in his gleaming gold fullplate, and looking all heroic... We know her track record isn't great with paladins, and this one's nicknamed the Pink bloody Lancer!". I've always tried to pay attention to these, "rambling whinges", as I can just imagine them running through Tavelle's head.
- Tavelle didn't respond, he hoped that the cowl of his cloak had hidden the face he had pulled. The rain was driving hard as they continued onwards to The Barrowfields, Brondar asked Tavelle a favour as they were riding, "Would ye have a word with Holfast at The Hart? Haylen, my daughter, wants to get off the goose farm. She hates geese... I was just thinking that old Holfast likes yer, and yer might help her get a job?".
"What makes him think Tavelle has any sway over Holfast?", asked Tavelle's owner.
The pair rode over a hillock and I reckoned that a Spot check was in order. They were in the vicinity of where Kendra the Mad had arrived in Mistledale when she was summoned by the Myrkulites of the corrupted grove. I asked for a Spot check and set the DC at 20 (I set the difficulty according to the driving rain and overcast conditions. The area where Kendra had appeared was 30-40ft in diameter, not an insignificant patch, so I adjusted the range penalty for 150ft. to +0). I rolled a 4 for Brondar, his attention was obviously elsewhere, and Tavelle's owner rolled an 18.
- Tavelle crested the rise of a small hill and noticed an area of blackened land to the south, "I'll do what I can for Haylen, but, I just want to have look over there", and he pointed at what had caught his attention.
- "Go on then, but be quick", said the fighter, and the pair started trotting to the dead and blackened area. As they rode through the driving rain Tavelle noted that Brondar pulled his horse up short of where the dead land started. Tavelle reined in Fury and looked back at the Rider, "What's up with you?", he asked. The burly fighter gave a nod towards the twisted and skeletally thin trees, "I don't like the look of it".
- Tavelle gave Brondar a funny look, "Stay here then", he dismounted and gave over the reins of his horse. "You should probably stay saddled...", he added with a grin, and made his way towards the area, "It seems that it's the only thing stopping your knees from knocking together!".
- "<censored> off! Go play with a Wyvern stinger!", said the fighter, and he continued, "I'm not scared, this is just common sense!". Tavelle was still laughing at his own joke, "I'm sorry Bron, i'm only playing", and he stopped at the border of where the dead area began.
- Tavelle looked at the thirty-five foot diameter area, "It's circular", he said, and paid closer attention to a number of cracks in the ground.
"Has Tavelle seen anything that resembles those crevices before?".
"Yes", said the DM.
"Maybe at the Unicorns charge?", asked Tavelle's player timidly.
"Yes", said the DM.
"Bugger", said the player.
to be continued...
|
Edited by - Farrel on 27 Mar 2013 22:15:06 |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 10 Apr 2013 : 20:10:45
|
Continuation...
- Tavelle surveyed the area, the cracks in the ground looked weathered and there were no skeletons scrambling forth. A shiver ran down his spine, the mage took a deep breath, to compose himself, and stepped beyond the border to one of the crevices. As he approached Tavelle saw something bright and shiny so he crouched down to get a better look. It was a metallic geode as big as his fist and he could see more in the crevice, jutting out of off-white crystals. The wizard cautiously extended a gloved hand to prise it free, "Best to be careful and take no chances", he whispered to himself as he recalled Brondar's teasing about the wyvern stinger.
- "What yer got?", called Brondar.
I asked for another Spot check, although it wasn't a Spot check that Tavelle's player would be rolling... It was actually a Will save (DC 15). Tavelle's owner rolled a 4...
One of the best things about Tavelle's owner DMing is that I usually haven't a clue what i'm rolling for. When i've played Farrel, and Tavelle's owner has DM'd, i've always been duped into believing that what he asks me to roll for is what it actually is. Silly me. He's stitched me up countless times. I was glad that when I mentioned him seeing a torn strip of cloth, caught in the wind and rain, his reaction was typical of his character, "I'll have that!", and not to worry about a terrible Spot check result. The Will save had been against a Suggestion enchantment.
...Something called to Tavelle's subconcious, "Come and pick me up", and the mage just couldn't help himself.
- Tavelle caught sight of a fluttering rag, caught on a gnarled and twisted tree, the rain was lashing down as he made his way up to it. It was a torn strip of black cloth about two inches wide and eight in length. He picked it carefully from the dead branch and placed it in the pocket of his breeches, "A memento", he muttered.
- "What've yer found?", called Brondar.
- Tavelle turned around to face the mounted Rider, "I found some ore... At least i think it's ore".
- Tavelle walked over to the horses and handed the angular geode to Brondar. The burly fighter looked at the ore and tried to gauge its weight, "What about the tree?", he asked.
- Tavelle climbed atop Fury and settled himself, "Nothing, just a strip of cloth".
- The wizard turned Fury away from the border of the dead zone, and saw that Brondar was still looking at the almost cubic mineral, "This is Galena ore, lead ore, was there anymore of it?", asked the Rider. Tavelle nodded, "There's a fair amount". Brondar explains that Galena ore contained small amounts of silver that could be separated, from the lead, during the smelting. Tavelle nodded his understanding, "I'll have to come back and collect some more, I could do with a free source of silver".
- The Rider asks, "What do yer think may have caused the scarring of the land?", Tavelle contemplated for a moment before answering, "If I was to have a guess I would say Kendra's arrival, the area was perfectly circular and crossed with the same cracks that were caused by her unholy lightning. The undead that we saw emerge, at the Unicorn's Charge, are long gone from here".
- The pair continued their journey in the rain, and as they rode into the Barrowfields proper they discussed the Galena mountains. Tavelle was already aware that while Brondar's forefathers hailed from Damara, the fighter had been born in Mistledale. Tavelle learns Brondar fought at The Battle of the River Rising, "I was a few years older than you are now", he adds. The conversation stops when they reach the Barrows of the Wights and they're met by a soaked militiaman on the perimeter. Tavelle could see other figures, Riders of Mistledale and militia, among the mounds.
- "Well met, Briarly!", called Brondar. Tavelle noted that Briarly looked wet through. He guessed that the militiaman was younger than him, and he had arrived with Jentar. "Hail Riders!", came the response from the enthusiastic youth as he crooked his elbow, balled his fist, and said loudly to Tavelle, "Yarr! Swordmage!".
- "Nine Hells! Not you as well? You weren't even around when it happened!", laughed Tavelle.
- Briarly's enthusiastic welcome had seemingly alerted the other militia in the area. The mage heard numerous calls of, "Wahey! Sword Mage!", "Yarr! Swordmage!", "Arrr! Swordmage!", from various directions, and distances. Some of the callers came into view and they were all performing the same crude gesture.
- Tavelle looked at Brondar, who was in tears laughing, the big fighter noticed and tried his hardest to stop. Still more calls could be heard above the rain. Brondar stopped laughing long enough to say, "Yer a <censored> legend!", and collapsed into roars of mirth again.
- Tavelle took it all in good humour until he saw Jentar approaching alongside Erael.
to be continued...
|
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 24 Apr 2013 : 21:16:45
|
Continuation...
- Jentar smiled warmly at Tavelle, "Well met, Swordmage! It seems as though you've impressed with your skill with a blade", said the paladin. Erael gave the mage a wry smile and Tavelle stood there in the rain wondering whether Jentar knew what the militia were actually getting at.
- Tavelle surveyed the barrows of the wights that were spread around him. The place seemed far larger from the ground, and he could see that six smaller barrows encircled a huge mound in the centre. Each barrow had a stone door that was framed with a large and heavy lintel. Tavelle could see that two visible stone doors had been smashed open, the rubble piled in front of the entrances. As the mage paid closer attention he noticed there were a number of stakes planted in the ground, "Stay well away from the stakes. Lanneth found exits, and entrances, to tunnels yesterday and pegged them out", said Jentar.
Tavelle's owner raised an eyebrow in concern, "I'm not going anywhere near those stakes, I can just imagine being dragged to my doom down a tunnel". I was pleased to see that Tavelle's self preservation streak had returned.
- Tavelle and Brondar dismounted, and Briarly gathered their reins. Jentar offered his hand to mage and they shook firmly, clasping each others forearms, "It is good to see you wizard, I hear that you're being watched over by a star?". Tavelle nodded, "On our first night here, a star spoke to me in a dream, she warned me of the wights approach".
- Jentar clapped Tavelle on the bicep, "It's good to know the sun and stars are watching us. I'm glad you're here, come, walk with me", he beckoned. Tavelle turned to Erael and Brondar, "Excuse me", he said, and followed the paladin. As they walked around the larger of the barrows Tavelle saw Helton, from the Unicorn's Charge. The Rider of Mistledale smiled at Tavelle, and called, "Swordmage", before giving him a sly wink. Tavelle waved back with a big grin.
- Jentar stopped as they stood in front of a huge stone block that was the sealed portal of the large barrow. It was old and weathered but stood resolutely against the ravages of time.
- Tavelle looked back, "Who opened the stone door seals, to the two barrows, back there?", "Grave robbers would be my guess", replied Jentar, and the paladin continued, "Lanneth told me that the rubble was spotted with a rare lichen called 'Morning Glory', He said it takes centuries to grow, and only on the side facing the glorious beauty of the dawn".
"I love Lanneth!", laughed Tavelle's owner, "He's a sly bugger with a wicked sense of humour!".
Tavelle's player found Lanneth's practical joke so amusing I decided to ask him to roll, for a Concentration check, to see if Tavelle could contain his sniggering. I set it at DC 20 (It did make him giggle for a while)
to be continued...
|
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 08 May 2013 : 08:45:02
|
Many apologies but there isn't an update this week.
My fault for being distracted.
Normal service will be resumed...
Continuation...
The funniest thing was that Lanneth hadn't been joking, Tavelle's mind had made this connection all on its own. Tavelle's owner managed a 10 for an uncomfortable total of 18.
- The mage couldn't control his giggle, Tavelle tried to stifle it and made it worse by biting his gloved hand. Jentar turned to face the wizard, "Are you alright?", he asked. Tavelle nodded and tried his best to apologise, "I'm sorry, please excuse me. It's just that I thought of something funny". The paladin didn't look pleased, "If you can stop your mind wandering, and pay attention, you might learn something", he said, and then continued, "Sunfoil, is what i've heard it called. It has something to do with protection from the dark".
- "Something to do with protection from the dark? Care to elaborate?", asked Tavelle inquisitively. Jentar fell silent in thought for a moment, "I don't actually remember", he admitted. The mage raised an eyebrow and smiled, "Next time, stop your mind wandering, pay attention, and I might learn something". The paladin, to Tavelle's surprise, took it all in good humour, "It is good to see you wizard", he laughed.
- Jentar and Tavelle talked about the last few nights, and in particular the night of the star's warning, eventually the conversation, and the paladins gaze, fell upon Erael. "She is quite simply the most beautiful soul I have ever seen", said Jentar, "What do you know of her?", he asked.
"I'm going to watch what I say here", said tavelle's player, "It's likely that with her senses she'll be able to hear our conversation".
- Tavelle looked over to where Erael and Brondar were in conversation, "If not for Erael I believe that we would all be in alot more trouble with the wights. Her sword and art have saved my life and many of the militias, had it not been for her I would've had a long ride back to Ashabenford to rally the patrols". Jentar nodded in agreement, "What have you learned of her?", he asked.
- "Erael hails from the Galena mountains in Damara, her family lived with the Dwarves of Stoneshield Hall", explained the mage. Jentar looked surprised, "She was raised by dwarves?", he balked. Tavelle shook his head, "Do pay attention paladin, she was raised by her family who lived with the dwarves... no wonder that I still don't know what Sunfoil does", he chuckled.
- Tavelle continued, "I'm very grateful that she is here with us, her art is far more powerful than my own or my father's". The paladin turned and looked Tavelle up and down, "Erael told me that you slew two wights at the Rodrathe Orchards, you have progressed swiftly since that skeletal chicken. I hear you are to go out with her and patrol again this night?".
- Tavelle winced at the mention of the chicken and nodded, "Yes we are to patrol again and i'll never live that down will I?", he exclaimed, and the paladin shook his head, "Not while i'm around to remind you", he laughed.
- The pair wandered over to one of the opened barrows, "What are we doing here?", asked Tavelle, as he peered into the darkness of the sundered portal. Jentar explained that he had spoken with Lanneth and Nelyssa and they had informed him that any assault on the wights would have to be conducted in their tunnels, "I have been looking for a larger entrance, most of the tunnels are extremely tight, and I believe that it would make an attack incredibly difficult". As the pair conversed Tavelle knelt down by some of the rubble scattered at the entrance and looked at the Sunfoil.
"While Jentar is preoccupied i'm going to take some Sunfoil and put it in a belt pouch", said Tavelle's owner.
- Tavelle discreetly placed a few sprigs of the golden-leaved lichen in a pouch at his belt. As he stood up Jentar eyed him, "I think we should investigate the barrows", said the paladin.
to be continued...
|
Edited by - Farrel on 12 May 2013 18:01:56 |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 05 Nov 2013 : 17:39:13
|
Continuation...
"Oh <censored>! I thought we were investigating the barrows?", said Tavelle's owner.
- "I thought we were investigating the barrows?", said the mage.
- Jentar smirked at Tavelle and pointed at one of the mounds with a smashed portal, "Pay attention wizard, that's a barrow". Tavelle pulled a face that the paladin of Lathander mistook for fear.
"I just knew that Jentar wouldn't be able to help himself...", said Tavelle's owner in disgust.
- "Don't fret, we have lanterns and torches", Jentar added reassuringly. Tavelle shook his head, "The Shield was very specific about not entering the barrows... you are aware that the wights aren't nocturnal?".
Tavelle's player continued to shake his head, "I know he's a glory hunter, but, does Jentar want to get the lot of us killed? What's to stop us from excavating one of the exterior exits and making it larger? That would solve the issue in regards to entering without being ambushed... I doubt that there are any unicorns down there waiting to save our butts!".
- Jentar gave Tavelle an angry look, "I am well versed in the lore regarding Wights, do you have a better idea?". Tavelle nodded, "I think we should wait for the Reverend Harvestmaster, and the rest of the Chaunteans to arrive, the more priests the better. I see no point in offering the wights an opportunity to swell their ranks, I would presume that the Shield, and Lanneth, have already investigated the open barrows, they were very thorough with the pegged exits".
- The paladin of Lathander crossed his armoured arms across his chest, "I am a patrol leader, just like Nelyssa, and I say that we need to see what's inside those mounds. You say Erael has the keenest magical eyesight... I say we should ask her to check and see if the others missed anything".
"He actually has a point.... damn it!", said Tavelle's player.
I was quite surprised that Tavelle was showing such dissent. His assumption about Lanneth previously investigating the opened barrows was spot on - the ranger had pegged the tunnel exits with Nelyssa in close proximity. The conversation had started with some playful ribbing and seemed to be turning into an argument. I informed Tavelle's player that the pair were being watched by quite a few members of the expedition.
- Tavelle conceded the point with a nod of acceptance, "If there's anything to find, i'm sure Erael will find it". Jentar still had his arms crossed, "I take it that you'll be waiting outside then?". Tavelle shook his head, "No, i'll be coming. You make a good point about Erael's eyes and I hadn't thought of it. I just wanted us all to be properly prepared, and, you're right, you're a patrol leader, and i'll support your decisions".
"Even if they are crap", said Tavelle's player.
- Jentar nodded and looked towards where Erael, Brondar, and Helton were standing, "We will investigate the open barrows, ready some torches". he called.
- As the Riders assembled Tavelle walked in a northerly direction past a sealed barrow. The mage noted that they were almost on the northeast edge of a hill.
- Tavelle heard movement behind him and Brondar's voice, "What're yer doing over here?", asked the fighter. The mage sighed, "Well, I was wishing that I had a light enchantment available. I was also hoping there would be another way in. To top it all off, i'm now going into the barrows that the Shield told me not to". Brondar blew a loud raspberry, "Pfft! This is down to Jentar. If it goes to <censored> enough of the militia heard you're argument about it".
- Tavelle winced, "It was a discussion and I offered my opinions", the mage attempted to correct. Brondar chuckled, "Well it seemed to be quite a loud offerring". The comment made Tavelle laugh and he turned back towards the barrows.
- As the pair walked back in the pouring rain they saw that Whispering Jop and Briarly were holding torches at the entrance to the closest open portal. Jentar ducked slightly as he entered first.
- The two torch bearers followed the paladin through the stone portal. Erael, Helton, Brondar, and Tavelle entered behind them.
- The mage was considering casting a Low Light Vision enchantment but, as he made his way into the main chamber, he saw a bright orange light source centered on Jentar's shield. The radiance fully illuminated the interior of the barrow.
I asked Tavelle's player for a DC5 Spot check. Tavelle's player rolled 11.
- As the mage surveyed the barrow he saw two wooden stakes, with red cloths on each, planted at the rear. They were placed at open holes in the floor, roughly twenty feet apart, each near a corner of the barrow. At the center of the room was a foot high stone plinth, It was six feet long and two wide.
- "Lanneth has pegged out two tunnesl in the floor. Keep your distance", said Jentar, as they all looked warily about.
- Tavelle noted the barrow was about forty feet in length and thirty wide. The ceiling was only eight feet high, drops of water joined and dripped to the rough earthen floor. A lime, or chalk, wash had been applied to the walls. As he paid closer attention the wizard noticed it must have been a fresco at some stage. Most of it was mixed with the muddy floor at the base of the walls.
- Tavelle looked to Erael and found that her gaze was already on him with a smile on her face. She briefly cast a look in the paladin's direction and then back to the mage - Erael's eyes were crossed and her mouth hung open. Tavelle put his gloved hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. Jentar looked in Tavelle's direction, frowned at the mage, and then shot a glance at Erael. The paladin found the sorceress alert, with her hand on the hilt of Lionswrath, and her focus on the tunnels.
"Bugger! Caught again", said Tavelle's owner.
- Erael looked to Jentar, "Lanneth has been very thorough, I can't detect any passages he has not already marked".
- Jentar looked about once more,"There's nothing to find here, let's move onto the other barrow", the paladin saw Tavelle was studying the remains of whatever had coated the walls, "I'd suggest you make haste with your inspection and join us".
- Tavelle turned to Jentar, "Some of the fresco might've survived. I doubt it'll take long by the looks of it", the paladin nodded, "Briarly and Brondar stay with Tavelle".
- As the others made their way out Erael reminded them to be wary. The orange radiance faded with the departing paladin.
"I must remember to check with Nelyssa before I commit my spells to memory. If i'd known about being sent to investigate dark and dank barrows then I could've prepared a light spell", grumbled the player. "I suppose I could cast a Light of Lunia, but it hardly seems worth it. Besides, i'd like it available for the patrol with Erael tonight", he moaned.
- The trio were left in the dancing light of the torch, carried by Briarly, but it was providing little help in the gloom of the low ceilinged barrow. The mage could hear the rain continue to fall heavily outside.
"Hmm, i've just had a thought...", said Tavelle's player. "I wonder if the rain might flood the tunnels - partially at least? That could make the expedition even more dangerous - imagine wading waist deep in water? Any wights could stay submerged indefinitely and grab us!". I couldn't help but grin as he was quite correct, and his musings led me to believe he really wasn't looking forward to delving into the realm of the wights. Tavelle's player was looking worried again.
- Tavelle crouched down to survey the scattered and crumbling remnants of the fresco. There wasn't anything else of note to look at, "I wonder what it depicted?", he said aloud. Brondar wandered over, "Maybe it showed the deeds of those interred here? It's all so damp and mouldy we'll never know", the big fighter gave the mage a nudge, "When we venture into the tunnels maybe you'll get the chance to ask?", he laughed. Tavelle looked up and gave Brondar a smirk, "We? I don't believe that you'd fit down the tunnel back there. Not unless you were naked and well greased". Brondar nodded, "I've been wondering about that too". Tavelle chuckled, "What? About being greased or naked? Or both? Do you plan on using goose grease?", he teased. The fighter snorted in derision, "About fitting in the damned tunnels, I don't think I will!".
- Briarly moved closer to the exit, "I can hear shouting", Brondar made his way to the young militiaman, "What's going on?", he asked.
I informed Tavelle that with Brondar blocking the light from the torch, carried by Briarly, it had gotten almost pitch black. "Could you roll two Search checks to get your bearings please?", I asked. Tavelle rolled 16 and 13.
- Tavelle stood up in the darkness, "Bron, you lump, you're blocking the light! I can see <censored> all!".
A clawed and twisted hand reached over the lip of the tunnel entrance, at the rear of the barrow, and silently started to drag the rest of the attached wight out. The dimming of the accursed light source was the perfect time to strike.
- Briarly squeaked, "I think they're under attack in the other barrow!".
The wight cleared the exit and slowly began creeping towards a figure with its back facing the malevelent undead horror. Of the three living creatures it could sense this was the closest and one of the most potent. The Mound King had demanded a tribute from its retinue - the proximity of the living was too strong to ignore. The Move Silently for the wight was 22 and its Hide check total was 17. When the light from the torch was dimmed i'd asked for two phantom Search checks from Tavelle. I had noted these extra rolls down and opposed them against the wight's Hide & Move Silently results. Tavelle was completely oblivious to what was creeping up behind him. The wight's claws flexed in excited anticipation and gathered up a good handful of heavyspun material.
- "Get out of the barrow!", blurted the panicked Briarly. Tavelle tried to take a step towards where he remembered the exit to be but was halted jarringly as his cloak choked him.
I asked the concerned player for an opposed Strength check - this time Tavelle knew what he was rolling. Recently i've asked for a number of d20 rolls at the start of a game session. I find it useful not to have to ask the player and alert them to situations. Sometimes i should remember to ask for more. He failed miserably with a 5 vs the wights lofty result of 10. "Could Tavelle just say 'Glurk!' for me please?", i asked Tavelle's owner.
- Tavelle let out a strangled, "Glurk!", and Brondar turned around at the weird noise made by the mage. The Rider of Mistledale saw the wizard get forcefully dragged backwards off of his feet.
I gave the panicking player a big smile, "I'd now like a cross between a 'What?' & a 'Ooof!' please". Tavelle's owner gave me a grin of realisation, "Whoof?", he offered.
- "Whoof!", said the mage as he landed heavily on his back and, to his horror, felt himself being dragged in the direction of the wights tunnel.
- "<censored>!", shouted Brondar.
After the surprise part of the encounter ended i thought i'd get some initiative rolls. Brondar reacted like lightning with a natural 20! Briarly stood, mouth gaping, with a 5, Tavelle, on his back, somehow came up with a 16, and the wight managed a respectable 17. It was quite a nailbiter, in regards to the initiative order, Brondar had to do something before the wight had another chance to drag Tavelle down the hole...
- From his peculiar vantage point Tavelle could see Briarly wide-eyed and frozen.
"Well", said Tavelle's owner grimly, "At least we still have his light source".
- Brondar was a blur of motion, it seemed to Tavelle that the greatsword appeared in his grasp rather than being drawn. The burly fighter closed quickly whilst lining up the strike.
- Tavelle continued to be dragged towards the undead bolt hole. The mages hands were frantically attempting to pop the cloak clasp open and loosen the tension of the material at his throat. Tavelle knew the tunnel, that the wight was heading to, was only about ten feet away.
- Brondar closed quickly and angled his greatsword for a horizontal sweep.
I was wondering if the actual attack, after the amazing 23 Initiative, and the opportunity for Brondar to use his Quick Draw, could be as good? I rolled a 15! I then rolled the damage and the strike inflicted 14 points. Sometimes streaks can be great, my own character is a good example. Farrel managed to defeat a Sword Spider without a scratch, or even a missed attack. He then couldn't manage to do anything right for two whole game sessions, and nearly got killed by Displacer Beasts in the process. The eyes of Tavelle's player opened widely, "The <censored> better not take my head off!". I gave him a serious look, "Bron has taken the decision that a dead Tavelle is better than a undead Tavelle".
- Tavelle saw the glinting greatsword flash towards his head. As it got closer the ripping roar of the blade grew louder as it cut through the air. "Tempus!", bellowed the fighter.
- "<censored> me!!!", screamed the mage.
- All of the tension at his throat ceased immediately and the wizard was no longer being dragged backwards.
- He heard growling hisses of frustration, and scrambling, as the wight tumbled down the open tunnel. Tavelle craned his neck, so he could see how far away from the pit he was, and saw his outstretched cloak - with a pair of wight arms still clinging to the hem. The arms had been severed just above the elbow. Tavelle looked up at Brondar, "Thanks, Bron", he said with relief.
- Brondar offered the mage his hand and helped Tavelle to his feet, "We should go", he insisted calmly. The wizard nodded his agreement and the trio made their way out of the barrow. Tavelle felt his cloak drag along behind him, with the two arms weighing it down, as he ducked under the lintel.
- As Tavelle made his way out, and into the driving rain, there was a commotion by the other barrow. The mage saw Erael and Jentar helping Jop away from the stone exit, the militiaman looked very wobbly.
- "I really, really, really, want to say I told you so, to Jentar", muttered the wizard angrily. Brondar looked about, trying to sort through the people around Jopson, "Where the <censored> is Helton?", he said very loudly.
- Tavelle looked through the members of the militia, he couldn't see the Rider of Mistledale amongst them, "Oh, <censored>!", exclaimed the wizard.
- "I don't believe it, Selune's mercy, not Helton? I fought alongside him at the Unicorns Charge", said Tavelle.
- The wizard stood in the rain silently and watched the militia attend Jopson. His cloak was caked in mud and his tunic soaked through. The mage could feel his cloak weighted down and raised an eyebrow, "I'd better pry the hitch-hikers off".
- Tavelle tried to unfasten the cloak clasp, the catch was bent, "Damn", he muttered. The mage wriggled his head through the opening, and started prising the talons from the material. He kept his gloves on, as the arms were filthy, and noticed that the limbs were partially calcified.
- Tavelle couldn't break the grip by hand, "I think this wight was particularly ancient. The limbs have nearly turned to stone".
"I want to do a joke about not having to worry about the wight - it really is quite 'armless. But I don't think it's the right time", said Tavelle's player.
- Tavelle looked up at Brondar, "Can I borrow Beryl for a moment please?", asked the mage. The big fighter saw Tavelle trying to remove the clenched claws, "Mind yer fingers", he warned.
- Brondar unhitched his heavy mace. The head was crafted of black stone, studded with protruding steel ovals, it was attached to a sturdy steel haft. Brondar brought the mace down hard on the clenched talons. There was a satisfying crunch and another with the second stroke.
"I was hoping to get them off intact. I could've played many a practical joke with them", said the player with a touch of disappointment.
to be continued... |
|
|
|
Dalor Darden
Great Reader
USA
4211 Posts |
Posted - 06 Nov 2013 : 02:50:00
|
| Welcome Back! |
The Old Grey Box and AD&D for me! |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 05 Jan 2014 : 15:26:27
|
Thanks Dalor!
Tavelle's player is DMing for my character at the moment. It's giving me the opportunity to prepare for the next chapter in Tavelle's tale... he is just preparing to depart Mistledale.
Continuation...
- Tavelle gave his cloak a good shake, to clear the debris, and forced his head back into the neck of the garment. "Bastard wight has jammed the clasp", he whinged.
"I'm not sure what to do", admitted Tavelle's owner, "I'd like to confront Jentar, but, I don't think I will. It's not the right moment, i'm still too angry". Tavelle's player had really liked Helton Jhone. He had been a quiet and thoughtful man, with a dry sense of humour. Tavelle would miss his sarcastic observations.
- Tavelle looked over to Erael, she was helping Jopson. He was sat on a pile of rubble, with his chainmail top unlaced. Jop had a vacant look in his eyes and his face seemed thinner. The mage saw what could only be a wight's hand print across his neck and collarbone. Tavelle glanced towards Brondar, "We should all head back, this has been a disaster".
- Brondar called the patrol to attention, orders were issued to return to the Lannane farm. Tavelle was left standing alone and he noted Jentar offered no orders to the contrary. The paladin looked somewhat crestfallen.
- Tavelle saw Erael approach, "What happened in there, are you alright?", asked the mage. The sorceress nodded, "I'm unhurt. The barrow had a number of alcoves, the wights came out of nowhere and smashed Jentar to the ground. Unfortunately he landed on his back, arms wide, and the light from his shield was blocked out. He recovered in time to see Helton get dragged down a hole. I managed to slay the wight that was trying to do the same to Jopson".
- Erael looked the mage up and down, "What happened to you?", she asked. Tavelle was about to reply when a voice interrupted, it was Liria, "Yeah, what happened to you?". The halfling was sat atop Drool with the hood of her fullcloak up. Without allowing Tavelle to respond she continued, "Derim's arrived at the farm, he's asked for the patrol to return".
- The halfling glanced around, "What's wrong with Jop?". Tavelle looked towards the militiaman, he was being helped onto a mount, "He was attacked by the wights. Helton is gone, dragged down a hole in that barrow". The Highdale mastiff sniffed and snuffled at their feet.
- Liria's eyes widened, "Helton is gone? But you weren't supposed to go into the barrows, Nelyssa said so herself!", she squeaked. Tavelle looked at the hooded sneak, "I wasn't aware you were invited to that particular meeting?", Liria gave the wizard a grin, "Not my fault you lot talk so damned loud!". Liria went to wheel Drool around and found that the mastiff had what looked like a severed arm in his mouth. Liria pulled a face of absolute disgust, "Drool, drop it! Drop! Drop it!", she commanded sternly.
- Drool didn't seem to be listening, "Drop! Drool, for <censored>'s sake, drop it!", shouted the halfling. Tavelle watched with a smile on his face and Erael winced at the language. Briarly and Brondar approached the group, on horseback, leading Fury and a dark brown mare". Erael walked over and gathered the reins from Brondar. Tavelle recognised the horse as Allam's mount.
- Tavelle looked back to Liria, the halfling had dismounted and was engaged in a titanic tug-of-war with Drool. Liria was losing. Drool's tail wagged furiously and he growled playfully. Liria slipped in the mud, lost her balance, and fell over. A glass bottle of bright red liquid rolled from under her cloak and settled at Tavelle's feet. Liria was busy wrestling with Drool, or was it the other way round? Tavelle couldn't tell... so, with the halfling distracted, he picked up the bottle.
- The bottle had a hand made label which read: Lannane's Wild Raspberry 1348. The wine was a shockingly lurid shade of scarlet. The mushroom shaped cork was sealed with dark green wax. Tavelle glanced at the halfling and made a loud click-click sound with the side of his mouth.
Tavelle's player really likes his animals, horses in particular. His daughter has taken up riding and I think this has increased his appreciation even more. Tavelle likes the idea of Handle Animal, especially the training and use of tricks... Now, Tavelle doesn't have the Handle Animal skill, and it's trained only. We often discuss the direction of his character and that way I can incorporate some learning... ready for skills as he increases his level. I set a DC of 15 (5 higher than a standard check) and the jammy git rolled a 18.
- Fury pulled his reins from Briarly's grasp and made his way up to the mage. The massive warhorse nuzzled his bristly lips against Tavelle's neck and whinnied.
Tavelle's owner had started laughing, "Kinda reminds me of Naema in the morning".
- The wizard gave Fury's muzzle a playful tweak and placed the bottle in a saddlebag, "Yoink", he whispered to the horse.
- Tavelle placed a muddy boot in a stirrup and hoisted himself up into the saddle. Brondar had a grim expression on his face as he looked down at Liria, "Drool, heel!", the big fighter said sternly. The Highdale mastiff's ears visibly pricked and Drool backed away from the downed halfling. A moment later the limb fell to the grass, and Drool sat on his haunches. Tavelle noted that the dog tilted its head and looked innocently at Brondar, tongue lolling. The burly fighted snorted, "Mount up Liria, we're leaving", and gave his horse a nudge with his boot heel.
- As the five figures departed the barrows Tavelle glanced back.
Tavelle's player shook his head in disgust, "I guess we might be seeing Helton again soon?".
- During the ride back to the Lannane farm Tavelle explains the events in the first barrow. Liria and Erael listen intently. Tavelle learns that the second mound had already been investigated, all of the tunnels inside had been marked out.
Tavelle's owner confessed that the disastrous expedition had been a wake-up call, "Tavelle wasn't armed, warded, or ready. I got complacent. It won't happen again".
- Brondar sounded the horn call for Riders returning when they were about a mile from the farm. As the patrol got to the top of a hill the camp came into view.
- A score of tents were positioned in the field in front of the farmhouse and stables. The rain continued to fall as the group rode on. The pennants of the Riders fluttered on the tips of longspears dotted around the encampment. Tavelle could make out a prominent new addition. A particularly large tent had been pitched, it was all roof and lacked any walls. Six pennants were visible, a golden sheaf of wheat on a green field, they adorned five of the outer posts and the central pole, they all whipped about in the wind.
"I'm not looking forward to explaining what happened to Nelyssa", said Tavelle's owner, "I wanted to shout at Jentar, for him not to be such a glory hunting dumb arse. I didn't, or rather, Tavelle didn't, now Jop's drained and Helton's gone".
I asked the player for a few d20 rolls under the pretext of some Diplomacy checks. I needed to have a few Saving Throws vs Suggestion ready for Tavelle's new memento... I'd taken the time to write down some specific scenarios that I knew would come up. Against each of the scenarios I recorded the rolls. Tavelle's player had given a resigned shrug after rolling, "With that sort of diplomacy I can see Tavelle getting slapped!".
- The patrol snaked down the hill in pairs, apart from two militia riding closely parallel to Jopson. Tavelle rode alongside Brondar, Erael and Liria were just ahead of them. Jentar was at the head of the column. Tavelle saw the Reverend Harvestmaster, and The Shield of Chauntea meet the Paladin.
"I'm interested in their reaction to finding out about Helton and Jop, can I see what's happening?", asked Tavelle's owner.
- The mage could see Nelyssa shaking her head, The Shield didn't look too pleased. The Reverend Harvestmaster walked to meet Jopson, he was accompanied by Brother Waylam, and the militiaman was helped from his mount. The venerable priest and the portly brother of the earth led him towards the tents.
- The militia rode past the two paladins and into the camp. As Tavelle and Brondar approached Nelyssa the mage hoped to slink by unnoticed. Tavelle kept his head down as they passed The Shield, and was about to give a sigh of relief to escape without censure. The wizard heard Nelyssa's voice from behind him, "Tavelle, get yourself cleaned up, then my tent, if you please". The mage turned his head to acknowledge the order, "Yes Shield", he replied. Tavelle turned back and looked at Brondar, "Beshaba's balls!", he muttered.
- Tavelle scanned through the militia that had gathered upon their return. The mage couldn't see Naema and concluded that the Rider had not yet returned from her patrol. Tynan walked up to the pair, "Helton's dead?", he asked in disbelief.
- Tavelle bit his bottom lip... the time wasn't right for a correction...
- Brondar gave a nod of confirmation and looked at the mud covered mage. Tynan gathered the reins of both mounts, "I'll take care of the horses", Tavelle thanked Tynan and then shook Brondar's hand, "You saved my life... I owe you", he said sincerely.
- The wizard dismounted and left Brondar and Tynan with the horses to seek out Naema's tent. Tavelle ducked inside and removed his soaked cloak. It was now more brown than black with all the mud. Tavelle inspected his precious cloak clasp and tried to assess the damage.
- The mage fiddled with the twin horse cloak clasp, "Damn it! I could fix it if I had my tools with me. I can't wait to arcane mark my mage sigil into it", said the sodden Tavelle.
"What??", said the startled DM.
I'd been pestering Tavelle's player about his mage sigil for a while. After his heroics at the Rodrathe holdings he was close to becoming fourth level. For Tavelle's owner to get an idea for it, or even a concept design, was as hard as getting the character hook. I was really insistent he get one and badgered him whenever we spoke. It came as a nice surprise when he showed me his design.
It's best described as two crossed hockey sticks, with the heads positioned above the handles and facing outwards. It was a minimalist version of the Mistledale coat-of-arms... The Twin Horse Heads. Just above the hockey sticks floated a single star... Tavelle's Herald of the Moonmaiden. I was so impressed as he explained his inspiration.
Tavelle's owner intended to Arcane Mark his sigil onto the cloak clasp at the earliest opportunity. The player explained that after the patrol had finished he would return to the tower and repair it first.
- "I so wish I had a clean and a dry cantrip available right now!", moaned the mage. Tavelle cleaned himself up, as much as he could, and departed the tent.
- The wizard approached Nelyssa's tent and the two militia parted the opening for him. Tavelle made his way inside and found Nelyssa was not alone, Derim Whiteshield, the Reverend Harvestmaster, was with her. "You wished to see me?", said the mage. Nelyssa nodded, "Yes, I did... What happened in the barrowfields? Were my orders not clear enough?", Tavelle shook his head, "Your orders were very specific. I relayed them to Jentar when he suggested we investigate the opened barrows". The Shield of Chauntea nodded, "Yet they were disregarded, why?". Tavelle shifted uneasily, "Jentar was most insistent, he concluded that Erael's eyes might find something you and Lanneth, missed. I did attempt to dissuade him, he pointed out that it was he who was the patrol leader and intimated I was a coward". Nelyssa pursed her lips and gave another shake of her head, "I take it that was enough to pressure you into entering the mounds?".
Tavelle's player was getting annoyed, "I'm not having that!".
- "No", stated the wizard flatly, "I decided I should accompany them, if anything, to try and mitigate Jentar's error". The paladin nodded, "And, did you?", she asked bluntly. Tavelle looked at his muddied boots, breeches, and tunic, "No, not really. Brondar saved my life. I was nearly dragged down a hole. You would be facing an undead version of me in the coming days, if not for his skill".
- The old priest of Chauntea stood next to the paladin, he placed a hand on her forearm, and looked to the mage, "Tavelle, i'm sure you did your best". Nelyssa sighed, "I'm sorry Tavelle, I know what he can be like. I was hoping Jentar might've listened to you. He holds you in high regard".
- Tavelle nodded politely at the apology, "After the discussion we had in the barrowfields I expect his opinion's changed". The conversation continued and Tavelle expressed his concerns about the tunnels and, in particular, their constraining size, to which Nelyssa turns to the Reverend Harvestmaster. The wizard saw a strength in the eyes of the venerable priest, "Have faith young swordmage and the Great Mother shall provide". The Reverend Harvestmaster stood next to Tavelle, "Before you make preparations for your patrol this night, would you come and speak with me?", the mage nodded, "Yes, Reverend Harvestmaster".
- Tavelle departed the tent and noticed that the rain had finally stopped falling, "About damn time", he grumbled.
"I'd like to have a wander around the Lannane farmhouse", said Tavelle's player.
- The wizard walked towards the farmhouse. The main door under the porched front was closed. One of the small shuttered windows had been smashed inwards.
"I only know of Coner Lannane, I never asked about the rest of the family", said Tavelle's owner with a hint of guilt. "It must have been absolutely terrifying".
- Tavelle pushed the wooden door inwards and hesitated at the doorway. He cast his eyes down to the porch floor and could see patches of dark brown dried blood. The mage stepped inside and was greeted by the scent of lavender. The rushes on the floor desperately needed changing as they were frayed and split. It all seemed terribly familiar to the mage, Kerryn had adopted her mothers habit of hanging bunches of sweetly smelling flowers from beams. Tavelle had changed his fair share of rushes at the tower, his Unseen Servant was worse than useless when it came to changing them. The wizard wandered around the ground floor, he explored the hearth room, kitchen, and pantry. There was evidence of more slaughter as Tavelle looked at the flight of stairs leading up, a wall was smeared with more blood.
- The wizard ascended the stairs and onto the landing. Rusty coloured stains around the frame of the first door signalled a struggle. Tavelle stood in the entrance and surveyed the room. He surmised that it was the main bedroom from the size of the bed. A crib was against the wall.
- Tavelle made his way to the next room along the landing, the door was closed. The wizard took a steadying breath and then pushed the wooden door open. Three single beds and two sets of bunks were at opposite ends of the cramped room. "Selune's mercy", whispered the mage, the bunkbeds were sized for children, and a few wooden toys were sprawled on the floor. A small, stuffed, toy rabbit lay forgotten, on its back, on a bottom bunk. Tavelle slowly walked over and picked it up. It was obviously well loved, the bald patches, and chewed ears proved it beyond doubt, "Damn it", he said quietly.
- Tavelle walked out of the childrens bedroom and to the last door on the landing. The door was half-off its hinges and had taken quite a battering. A large bed had been moved to block the door and a chest of drawers was upturned next to it.
- The wizard peered inside the room and saw four beds, which were still in position. The room was a mess and Tavelle noticed that the single window was smashed outwards.
"I'm going to do everything I can to stop those <censored> wights", promised Tavelle's owner.
- Tavelle made his way out of the farmhouse and onto the porch. It was at that moment the mage realised he was still holding the stuffed toy, "I know a little girl that will love you", he told the rabbit.
- Tavelle surveyed the tents, watchpyres, and makeshift barricades. Although there were just over sixty people, and their mounts, it was as though an army had arrived. The mage made his way towards Naema's tent and found it empty. After settling down Tavelle had a very welcome visit from Serrick. The militiaman provided him with a fresh tunic and breeches, "I always have a couple spare. You should check your saddlebags too". Tavelle thanked Serrick and wasted no time in changing into the clean, dry clothes.
- Tavelle felt alot fresher and made his way out of the tent to get the food he could smell cooking. Tavelle joined the queue for the spitted lamb.
- The queue for the lamb was lengthy. The mage counted the people ahead of him in the line, a dozen militia, a Rider of Mistledale named Eventar, the rotund Brother Waylam, and Sister Alena from the abbey. Tavelle was soon no longer last in line when Brondar and Erael joined him. The sorceress smiled at the wizard, "You look better with clean clothes. How did your meeting with The Shield go?", the mage gave a shrug, "Better than I hoped. Before we depart later i've been asked to pay the Reverend Harvestmaster a visit". Brondar informed Tavelle that he had just left his own meeting with Nelyssa, "She knows you tried yer best with the Morn Horn", he added. The sorceress raised an eyebrow, "The Morn Horn? What is that?", she asked quizzically.
- Tavelle bit his lip and Brondar stifled a giggle. The mage composed himself and explained it was the nickname Jentar had been given. Erael pressed for more information, "But why the Morn Horn? What does it mean?".
- Brondar gave a chuckle, "If he ever invites you to his naked morning worship of the dawn...", the pair could see his face redden, as he tried to manage his mirth, "...You'll not likely miss the 'why' of the nickname".
- Erael blushed slightly, "Erm, I think I understand, i'm glad I said i'd require rest after tonights patrol".
"Looks as though the Pink Lancer didn't waste any time", said Tavelle's player.
- "A lucky escape, i'd say", laughed Brondar. Tavelle heard a horn call sound, signalling a returning patrol, the mage saw Naema and Kinara approach from the northwest. The wizard gave Naema a wave, and called out, "I'll get you some food", the Rider gave a smile and a wave in return as she dismounted.
- Tavelle was served two helpings of lamb with turnips and potatoes. He waited for Brondar and Erael to collect their dinner and accompanied them back to the tents.
- It wasn't long before Naema joined them, Tavelle met her warmly and handed her a bowl of lamb.
- Naema and Tavelle took turns discussing the events of their day. The Rider had already been told of Helton's death and Naema was quite shaken by the news. Naema informs Tavelle about her patrol to the Moonsea Ride. They had found the abandoned caravan campsite that the Black Eagle trading coster had reported to Tavelle. It was after the wizard had recounted the drama in the barrow, and told of nearly being dragged to his doom, that Naema thanked Brondar for his skill.
- The sun was hovering above the horizon and Tavelle estimated they had an hour before sunset, he looked to Erael, "I have to see the Reverend Harvestmaster. We should prepare to leave soon". The sorceress nodded her agreement, "May I summon Spot?", she asked. As Tavelle got up he fished the cloak clasp out of a pouch and handed it to Erael. Naema asked where his cloak was, "It's not going to be a warm night", she warned him, "I won't be needing my cloak", replied the wizard and he departed in the direction of Derim's tent.
- Tavelle walked towards the tent and noted it now had sides and an entrance. Two guards, from the Abbey of the Golden Sheaf, stood alert outside. The pair were clad in bronze hued half-plate, the one on the left raised his hand, "Well met Tavelle. The Reverend Harvestmaster is expecting you. The temple guard on the right parted the entrance and motioned for the mage to enter.
- The opening was high enough that Tavelle could walk in without stooping. The interior was illuminated by a softly glowing globe near the canopy. The floor was the bare earth of the field and it had been freshly tilled.
"Not like that cloying mess in the barrow", added Tavelle's owner.
There were very few furnishings within the tent, some simple wooden chairs, a sturdy chest of oak and brass, a table sprawling with scrollcases, a roughly polished rock, and a wooden vial holder. A bedroll laid out on the ground. The item that caught Tavelle's eye, and held his attention, was a curious white-metal shield. It was the colour of purest ivory, with a gilded inlay depicting a large wheat sheaf. The wizard was met by the aged priest, who rose from a wooden chair to greet him. Derim was dressed in his unremarkable brown vestments, they were practical and unfussy. Tavelle did notice the Reverend Harvestmaster wore a beautiful gold embroidered belt, and a silver and gold sickle at his hip.
- Tavelle gave the Reverend Harvestmaster a bow in greeting. The mage felt a hand on his shoulder and Derim's voice, "Thankyou for coming, please take a seat", the priest motioned to a chair.
- Tavelle sat down and Derim took a seat opposite him, "How is Jop?", asked the mage. His question was met with a warm smile, "Goodman Furrelly's made a good recovery, he's probably enjoying some food as we speak", said the priest. Tavelle gave a sigh of relief at the news, "Is there any hope for Helton and the Lannane family?" he asked. The Reverend Harvestmaster shook his head, "I'm afraid not. We can only offer them a final death and the embrace of the earth. Once they are embraced the natural cycle will continue", Tavelle tilted his head and asked, "Natural cycle?". The priest explained, "Life, growth, and death. They are undead and therefore outside of the natural cycle".
- The Reverend Harvestmaster asked Tavelle about the warning from the star and if any other dreamvisions had been received. The wizard explains to the venerable priest, "No, none. Why do you think she gave me the warning?". Derim raised his brow, "That's a good question Tavelle. What do you think?".
"I haven't a clue!", said the player.
- The mage gave a shrug, "I don't know, I pray occasionally. I wouldn't claim to be particularly pious". Derim Whiteshield nodded, a hint of a smile sparkled in his eyes, "Do you love to gaze at the moon and stars?", he asked. Tavelle responded immediately, without even a pause, to the question, "Yes, very much, I always have". The smile in Derim's eyes found its way to his face, "Maybe that's all the reason the Sliver needed? I believe that the gods look into our hearts... Talk, after all, is easy... A persons actions and feelings are what really matter".
"I've never heard of a Sliver", said a very surprised player.
- Tavelle blinked slowly, "A Sliver?", he asked. The Reverend Harvestmaster nodded, "It would be my best guess, a celestial servant of the Moonmaiden". The wizard blinked again slowly, "A Sliver", he repeated. The Reverend Harvestmaster continued with his musings, "Had you considered that the Sliver was watching at the request of another?". Tavelle nodded as a memory of her words came back to him, "She said she was a Herald of the Moonmaiden", concluded the wizard. Derim chuckled playfully, "Yes, obviously... What if your goddess had answered a prayer?". Tavelle raised an eyebrow, "Someone was praying to Selune, the Moonmaiden, to watch over me?", he asked in astonishment. Derim chortled again and smiled, "Remember, Swordmage, it's just a maybe".
- The priest of Chauntea paused while Tavelle digested the information.
- "Tell me what you know of Erael?", asked the venerable priest.
- Derim's grey eyes held power and wisdom. His body may be old but his mind is as sharp as an elven blade thought Tavelle...
"Bugger!", said Tavelle's owner.
- Tavelle did his best to keep things simple, "Only what she has told me... Erael hails from the Galena Mountains where she lived, with her family, with a clan of dwarves. She lost her family and now she describes herself as a wandering sorceress. Erael said she heard of Kendra causing havoc in the dale and wanted to help". Derim nodded, "Her help has been very much appreciated, especially with that monstrous wyvern. I'd love to see the enchantment that helped her slay the beast, Lanneth showed me the corpse. It looked as though it had been frozen, bitten, clawed, and ripped", said the priest.
"Yeah well, hopefully, that's not gonna happen", said Tavelle's owner suscpiciously.
- Tavelle nodded, "Like I told Lanneth, it must be an enchantment i've not seen yet".
- The old priest gave a slight nod of his head, "The magic she used to get you to Ashabenford with such haste is impressive. You must've been flying?", Tavelle nodded, "Yes we were", he replied. The Reverend Harvestmaster smiled, and continued, "What did you make of the news that a silver dragon saved young Maisie Selmer? I only ask because a number of the faithful, in the fields, at the abbey reported seeing a dragon in the sky".
Tavelle's player looked unsettled, "I get the distinct feeling that Derim suspects something".
- "Could it not have been another wyvern?", asked the wizard hopefully. Derim raised a white eyebrow, "Another wyvern? No, I don't think so. Many made the claim that it was like polished silver and it bore a rider".
"Uh-oh!", said the player.
- The priest of Chauntea's eyes seemed to twinkle with mischief, "It was after your visit that the faithful reported it". Tavelle tried hard not to fidget in his chair.
"I'm so tired of all the secrets and lies. But, I won't betray Erael", asserted the player.
- "Please, Reverend Harvestmaster... I cannot...", said Tavelle. The priest looked about the tent, "We are shielded from eavesdroppers and warded against scrying eyes", the mage shook his head, "It's not that", he said quietly. Derim smiled at the mage, "Your mother would be very proud of the man you've become. I will trust your judgement", reassured the priest.
- Tavelle nodded, "Thankyou, Reverend Harvestmaster. I'm hoping Erael can seek tutelage in crafting, from my father, after the wights have been dealt with". The old priest grasped the handle of the ornate sickle at his belt as he rose to his feet, and said, "It would be good to have one of her kind grace Mistledale with her presence".
"How on earth does he know? I'm obviously missing something", exclaimed the player.
Tavelle's player was correct. He was missing some vital information. When the grove had been stealthily corrupted by the Myrkulites, they had planted a spy within the abbey. This spy had run interference, disrupting the communications, and efforts to coordinate a response between the Chaunteans at the Abbey of the Golden Sheaf, the druids of Oakengrove Abbey, and the Riders of Mistledale. This cleric of Myrkul had been a royal pain in the arse - My own character, Farrel, can attest to the fact. Derim Whiteshield had grown and learnt from the experience - He had taken precautions to prevent it happening again. The beautiful chair in the audience chamber which Derim was sat upon, when he received Tavelle and Erael, possessed the ability to reveal auras. Erael's aura was shining silver and very strong... What with all the other clues Derim had collected he was now quite certain.
"I've got to try and change the subject", said the player.
- "I remember my mother loving the two abbeys and enjoying spending time with you. She always spoke of you fondly", said Tavelle, as he attempted to move the talk away from the sorceress.
- Derim smiled, "Merrielle would have loved hearing about your encounter with the unicorn" he said. Tavelle nodded, "Yes, she loved Kamerynn, a servant of the Earthmother. I remember a silver pendant she used to wear, a unicorn with a beard". Derim smiled broadly, "Your mother continued her family's tradition of worshipping the Earthmother". Derim glanced to Tavelle's weaponbelt, to the small toy rabbit that was tucked into it, and raised an eyebrow. Tavelle saw what the priest was looking at, "I found it in the Lannane farmhouse. I was going to give it to Maisie to love and look after... Poor little rabbit must've seen some horrible things...", he explained. The Reverend Harvestmaster smiled and said, "Your mother would be happy to know the man you've become".
- The pair stood in the tent, "I should let you leave while the light holds", said the venerable priest, Tavelle nodded, "Yes, Reverend Harvestmaster". They made their way to the exit and stopped short. Derim put his hand on the mage's forearm, and brushed off some mud into his other, "Tavelle, if you ever want to talk about your mother, or the Moonmaiden, you are always welcome at the abbey, the same goes for young Erael". Tavelle nodded and smiled, "Thankyou again. I have questions about Lurue's Champion at the Unicorn's Charge... When this is over i'll make sure I visit". Derim looked puzzled, "The Unicorn's Charge?", he asked.
- "It's the name the militia came up with for the hill, where the unicorn defeated Kendra. We thought the name sounded better than Kendra's Fall", explained the wizard. Derim nodded, "It is a fine name".
- Tavelle departed the large tent and went to collect his things. As he walked to Naema's tent he felt relieved that Derim knew about Erael. Tavelle retrieved the equipment he needed for his patrol. Before leaving the tent he found the scroll of Endure Elements and cast it on himself, "At least i'll be comfortable", he reasoned. The wizard made his way to where Erael had summoned Spot. The sorceress waited with Nelyssa, Brondar, Naema, and Tynan.
- The four figures watched the mage approach, "Are you ready?", asked Nelyssa. Tavelle nodded and patted Spot on the neck. Brondar gave the wizard a hand up into the saddle and then did the same for Erael. The Shield of Chauntea advised Tavelle to return early, "There's no need to stay at the Barrowfields too late. If the wights are contained within their barrows they'll have no time to travel and threaten anyone".
- Tavelle gave a nod and wheeled Spot around to the direction of the Barrowfields. The sky was grey with low clouds and the light was beginning to falter.
- The pair trotted away from the camp and up the hill. Erael had noticed that Tavelle was quiet, and had been since his arrival, he wasn't his usual talkative self. The sorceress waited a few minutes before breaking the awkward silence, "Are you alright?", she asked. Tavelle's shoulders drooped and he let out a seemingly world weary sigh, "The Reverend Harvestmaster knows you're a silver dragon", he explained. Erael grasped his shoulder, "How? When were you going to tell me?", she asked, almost in a panic.
- Tavelle turned in the saddle so he could face the sorceress, "I still don't know how he knew and I wasn't going to mention anything in front of the others back there", he said in frustration. "So, you didn't tell him?", asked the sorceress. Tavelle shook his head, "No, of course not. Derim listed all of the injuries on the wyvern, he seemed far too well informed about how we travel so fast. After we had delivered our messages they received reports of a silver dragon, bearing a rider, from the faithful in the fields. He is a powerful priest of Chauntea and a clever man, whether he read my mind, or scryed upon us from afar, he definitely knows".
- Erael nodded her head slowly, and asked, "What does he intend to do?". Tavelle shrugged, "Nothing, apparently. When I wasn't willing to discuss you... he just seemed to accept it and said he would trust my judgement. He did seem very pleased you're here and helping so much". The sorceress raised an eyebrow, "Really?", she asked. The mage nodded, "Yes, really. His exact words were that it would be wonderful to have one of your kind grace the dale with her presence".
- Erael bit her bottom lip, and then asked, "Do you think he will tell anyone?". Tavelle shook his head, "I don't believe he will, I think he is genuinely astounded. I do think he'd love to talk with you though".
- Erael looked about, "I must be more careful in future", and she climbed down from the saddle. The sorceress dropped her backpack to the ground and started unbuckling her swordbelt. Tavelle dismounted and dismissed Spot, the mage noted the light was fading fast. He turned his back on Erael as the sorceress disrobed.
"Hmmm, uncomfortable silence", said Tavelle's owner.
- The mage turned around to view the shining silver form of Eraeliglasheer. Tavelle placed the clothes and weaponbelt within the backpack and helped the dragon don it. He picked up the rope and carefully climbed up onto the pack. A many number of knots followed...
"There'll be no wizard pancakes tonight!", said Tavelle's player.
- Eraeliglasheer broke into a run and unfurled her silver wings to catch the breeze. A moment later they were aloft and then airborne. The dragon circled, at an angle, as she gained altitude. Tavelle had an eyewateringly uncomfortable view of the barrows.
"Knots don't fail me now!", squeaked the player nervously.
- The dragon soared in a circle over the barrows, the sky above was cloudy and dark, not a star could be seen. Tavelle noticed a strange white cloud, slowly gathering, ten feet below them, and Eraeliglasheer swooped down to land on it, "Did you just create this cloud?", asked the mage in astonishment. The dragon turned her head to face the wizard, "Yes, i'm slowly mastering my ability to conjure fog... this is quite an embarrassing attempt, if i'm honest".
- Tavelle shifted on top of the backpack as he tried to make himself comfortable. The mage noted the patch of fog wasn't dispersing, "Can I walk on it?", he asked hopefully. Eraeliglasheer giggled, "It's quite a way to fall". The mage pulled a face, "I take it that's a no then?".
- The conversation halted and the wizard was left contemplating what was on Erael's mind. It was past dusk and Tavelle wondered if his Low Light Vision enchantment would actually achieve anything, "Go away clouds and let the stars shine", whispered the mage. Eraeliglasheer's silver-blue eyes scanned the ground below intently.
- An hour passed by with no sign of any wights and no conversation between Erael and Tavelle. The first few times the wizard thought to ask a question he had stopped himself.
"I guess everyone needs time with their thoughts?", commented the player insightfully.
- Eraeliglasheer had positioned herself on the small blotch of fog like a cat waiting to pounce, her serpentine neck peered over the edge, "Tavelle, when we return I think I should speak to the Reverend Harvestmaster", said the dragon quietly. The wizard nodded his agreement, "It would be a good idea".
- Erael continued, "I also need to tell you... as much as i'm able... the truth about why I am here".
- Tavelle fidgeted on the pack, "The truth?", he asked. Erael kept her gaze firmly on the barrows, "Nearly everything i've told you is true about my family, Stoneshield Hall, and Vallendras. But, I did not come here just because I heard about Kendra the Mad. I came here to destroy the Mound King and claim a weapon of cold. My family, the dwarves of Stoneshield Hall, are relying on me to retrieve it... It is our only hope".
- Tavelle listened as the dragon continued, "When I arrived in Mistledale, and located the barrows, I didn't realise there would be so many wights. The tunnels were so tight and I was forced to retreat. I'd gladly fight that horny wyvern again rather than venture into the barrows alone".
"Horny wyvern?", asked Tavelle's owner.
- "I tried to destroy as many as I was able when they emerged at night. I was too late to help the Lannane's. After meeting Maisie I learned that a patrol of Riders would be coming to investigate the barrows, so, I decided to wait". Tavelle took off his riding gloves and placed a hand on the dragon's shoulder, "You won't be alone in the tunnels, you will be with friends and allies. I'll come with you when you see Derim. He needs to know about the weapon and your need to claim it".
- Eraeliglasheer raised her gaze from the barrows and looked at the wizard lashed to her backpack, "I was very lucky to find you", she said softly.
- Tavelle felt himself blush at the compliment from the azure eyed dragon, "I believed that you had run... erm sorry... flown away from Stoneshield Hall due to the priests of Torm laying claim to Vallendras's sword", said the mage. Erael cast her eyes back to scanning the ground, "The priests of Torm who visited and stayed at Stoneshield Hall were only interested in my brother's hoard. They had been given a sizeable donation, to take back to their temple in Tantras. I believe Vallendras was embarrassed by them, Eristan gave them the gold to be rid of them. It was after Eristan and Vallendras fell they declared the possessions left behind the property of the church. It seems they believed the Lionswrath Blade was included in the spoils".
- Tavelle shook his head in disgust, "I bet that went down well?", he said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. Erael's head nodded in the gloom, "I honestly thought King Angrimm was going to order their execution... he banished them instead. I don't believe I could've stayed with them still around".
- Tavelle cast his eyes to the sky as he thought about how much the dragon had endured. A few breaks in the clouds had appeared and a number of twinkling stars pulsed overhead. The mage noticed Eraeliglasheer's head turn sharply to the side, "Something approaches the barrows", whispered the dragon. Tavelle peered over the edge of their cloudy perch, "Wights?", asked the wizard. It was far too dark for the mage's eyesight to reach the ground. "No, an Earth Elemental and a big one too!", exclaimed Erael.
"I need to see this!", said Tavelle's player, "I'm going to cast my Low Light Vison".
- Tavelle felt the enchantment take effect and his view of the barrows improved significantly. The mage followed the direction of Erael's gaze and soon saw the massive elemental composed of earth and rock. The wizard's jaw dropped open at the sight. With every movement the lower portion took forwards, he felt a vibration in his chest, "Grumbar's gonads!", blurted the mage.
The DM nearly had an asthma attack due to laughing.
- Tavelle watched the behemoth of earth and stone purposefully move towards the slope, at the side of the barrows, where he had been standing earlier. The pair saw the elemental almost submerge itself into the side of the hill as it moved. The wizard was completely transfixed by what he could see, the creature merged with the slope, and nearly disappeared from view. There was a slight pause before it burst forth, causing a huge landslip. Stones and waterlogged dark soil ran down the slope, it exposed a twenty feet wide opening into the side of the hill.
- "I bet this was Derim's doing, after my telling off from Nelyssa I brought up the subject of the tunnels restricting us, he said to trust in the Great Mother... I thought he meant the Bountiful Goddess, Chauntea", laughed Tavelle. Erael swept her gaze about, "The elemental seems to have gone", she declared.
- The wizard looked to Erael, "You've seen an elemental before?". The sorceress explained she had seen a High Old One of Dumathoin, in Stoneshield Hall, summon one. Tavelle strained his eyes to pierce the darkness of the gaping hole, "Can you see any movement?". The dragon was quiet for a moment and then replied, "There's no sign of any wights".
- The pair continued their vigil over the barrows, sat atop a cloud, until the mage's Low Light Vision enchantment expired, "I can't blame the wights for remaining in their barrows. The thought of the elemental, possibly laying in wait, would make me lay low too. Shall we head back to camp?", asked Tavelle. Eraeliglasheer agreed, she stretched out like a cat and unfurled her wings, "I ache", muttered the dragon. Tavelle nodded, "You haven't moved in a few hours, of course you ache, my ass is completely numb too", he laughed. Erael stretched again, "No, I have growing pains and it makes my scales hurt", she corrected. Tavelle nodded, "Maybe some food and sleep will help? Do you preen your scales like a bird has to manage its feathers?", asked the mage inquisitively.
- Erael gave a draconic shrug, "Scales fall out if they are damaged and are replaced, others shift to make room for new growth, and some I pull out myself. It just makes me ache all over". explained Eraeliglasheer. The dragon shifted on the patch of fog, it was becoming increasingly unstable, and she leapt off towards the direction of the Lannane Farmstead.
to be continued...
|
Edited by - Farrel on 01 Jun 2015 22:33:33 |
|
|
|
fylth
Acolyte
Canada
11 Posts |
Posted - 08 Jan 2014 : 05:59:30
|
| Well met, Farrel, everyone else. I must say I am impressed with how much depth you have put into this. It reminds me of what I do when I run my games. You got a pretty interesting story going on and it makes me want to tell the story of my players :) |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 13 Apr 2014 : 21:19:18
|
Well met fylth and thanks for the kind words
Continuation...
"Maybe I should offer Erael my skills as a masseuse?", wondered Tavelle's player.
- The dragon soared over the dark landscape. Tavelle felt the wind buffet him and pull on his tabard. It was a wise move casting the Endure Elements, it took the chill from the rushing air, thought the wizard.
"Enough fantasies about massaging Erael's aches away", said Tavelle's owner, "Tavelle has alot to think about. I want to know why she bothered to mention staying and seeking tutelage in crafting? I feel a bit <censored> off to be fair, like I've been manipulated. As soon as she claims the weapon she'll be winging her way back to the Galenas".
I've found that Tavelle's player can be a little hasty and impulsive. I like the character trait as it reflects his chaotic nature. It can often lead him to make decisions without actually clarifying all of the facts. I was surprised that he hadn't thought of it when Erael had admitted her reason for being in Mistledale. Tavelle's player did have alot on his mind and, thanks to the phantom Diplomacy checks, things would get alot worse.
- Erael flew low over the land and located the stand of trees where the wyvern had perished. She landed a good distance from the sprawling corpse and padded to a halt. The wizard nearly vomitted from the odour of the rotting carcass.
- Tavelle brought a gloved hand up to cover his nose, "I thought I smelled bad...", he laughed. Erael turned her head to face the mage, "Well, I didn't want to say anything... but, as the dwarves would say, 'yer gettin a bit ripe". Tavelle wanted to laugh at the use of the dwarven saying... all he managed was to blush deep red in embarrassment at the thought of smelling bad.
"Does Tavelle really smell?", asked Tavelle's player.
The DM nodded, "Tavelle hasn't bathed in seven days, he's been riding, fighting, riding, fighting, getting rained on, fighting, rolling around in the mud, getting rained on again...".
"Hmm, I guess I smell of eau de wet dog?", said Tavelle's owner.
- "I changed into fresh kit after the barrows... do I really smell?", asked the wizard sheepishly. The dragon nodded, "I've smelled worse... the Vaasan Yeti is like curdled goats milk". Tavelle pulled a sour face, "I'm not that bad am I?", Eraeliglasheer gave a draconic chuckle, "No, not yeti".
"I wonder if Erael would conjure some water for me to have a shower?", asked Tavelle's owner (He hadn't laughed at Erael's Yeti joke - Obviously stinking was not an option). "It would seem the most opportune timing for one. I've the Endure Elements active so I'm not going to get cold or anything", pondered the player. "All I need is some soap and I'd be set!", he concluded happily.
- Tavelle finished dismounting from the backpack and unfastened its large silver buckle. The wizard spent time rubbing some feeling back into his buttocks, before he knelt, muttered Anarshas, and unbuckled the straps. He withdrew Erael's clothes, weaponbelt, and boots, and passed each over his shoulder, "Do you think you could conjure me enough water for a shower?", asked Tavelle. The sorceress continued to dress, and finished lacing up her chemise, "I think so. Be warned - it'll be cold", she laughed.
"No, it won't", sniggered Tavelle's player.
- "I don't suppose you have any soap in that backpack of yours?", asked the wizard hopefully as he unfastened his weaponbelt. Erael raised an eyebrow in thought as she reached inside the pack, "One of the clerics of Torm left behind some nice soap, I have it here somewhere, with a cloth, I think". The sorceress brought forth a small block of soap wrapped in waxed paper, and a thickly-woven blue cotton flannel, Tavelle could smell the fragrance of Honeysuckle, "The Tormtar really know how to rough it", laughed Tavelle, "This is the fanciest soap I've ever seen".
- Tavelle continued disrobing and stacked his clothes neatly in a pile next to Eraels' backpack. The mage was soon standing in the dark, naked, holding a bar of honeysuckle soap and a discreetly positioned flannel to secure his modesty.
"What in the nine hells am I doing?", asked Tavelle's owner in a bit of a panic. As the DM I was trying not to laugh at the mental image I'd managed to form of the scene. "I was putting off asking the question about her heading back to the Galenas... How did it get to this?", laughed the player.
- Tavelle felt somewhat exposed and started to shift away from the piled clothes and pack, the grass was wet, not cold, between his toes. The wizard heard Erael giggle, "Are you ready?". Tavelle recognised the laughter in her voice and replied that he was ready. There was a short pause before the first extended downpour arrived and Tavelle shifted himself to turn away from the direction of Erael's voice.
- When the mage was quite certain his rear was facing the sorceress he began to lather up. It was dark and he realised that Erael's vision would be unimpeded by the lack of illumination. After a while of soaping down the mage requested more water and more after that. The suds of soap were around his feet and Tavelle felt far fresher, he wrung out the cloth and began using it to dry himself.
- I suppose now is as good a time as any, thought the wizard, "When you recover the weapon I take it you'll be returning to the Galenas?", asked the mage quietly. Erael shook her head, "No, not immediately. When I was given this task I was told to expect a sign for when I was to return to Stoneshield Hall. Dhannagar Steelarm, a High Old One of Moradin explained that I'd return with more than just a weapon... He said it might take some time to truly bond together. I hope I'll have enough time to learn crafting during the process".
"I'm so glad I asked tactfully - she didn't mislead me", said the player in relief.
- Tavelle smiled, nodded his understanding, and started to put his clothes on, "It is likely to need mastering. I've read of accounts of powerful weapons exerting their will, some call it the ego, upon the wielder. A battle of personality, if you like? It also sounds as though there may be contingent conditions..."
The DM was extremely happy with the way Tavelle reacted and the information about the ego of a weapon was brilliantly done. I had been secretly hoping that he would get all wordy and let loose his ideas regarding the Lionswrath blade... I couldn't let the chance go begging.
- Erael looked to the wizard in astonishment, "Clangeddin's Beard! How do you know all this stuff? What's a contingent condition?".
I once teased Tavelle's player about, "Time to baffle the bumpkins!", when he was faced with the Rodrathe's and Militia, at the orchards not so long ago. I had been expecting him to get all verbal and overwhelm the farmers in a bid to allow Erael to sneak off... He had taken offense at my choice of phrase and had explained, "Those bumpkins are Tavelle's fellow Mistrans. They need his help - They'll be no bumpkins baffled here!". It had rather put me in my place and told me that Tavelle really did care for his fellow dalesfolk.
- Tavelle fidgeted and gave a grin, "I'm a wizard... It's my job... Look, I do read alot and, despite what he may say to the contrary, I do pay attention to my father. I've been thinking about the Lionswrath blade and I believe it is the wielder of the sword that holds the contingent condition of activity". Tavelle paused to check if Erael understood, "Still with me?", he asked as he put on his weaponbelt. Erael nodded, "You think that another might be able to wake the blade?". Tavelle explained his theory of the sword being a Holy Avenger, "I believe that any paladin could call on the currently dormant powers".
- Tavelle checked that he hadn't left any clothes or equipment behind and then carefully wrapped the soap back into the paper.
- The pair summoned Patches, mounted up, and started the short ride back to the farm.
- The watchpyres were burning brightly at the edge of the camp and Tavelle removed the Horn of Mistledale from his side. He blew a slightly strangled version of the call for a rider returning. Erael commented that Buross was overhead and Tavelle saw two figures, bearing torches, approaching. "Corster and Feluan", whispered the sorceress.
- As the pair of militia drew closer Tavelle could hear them laughing, "I told you it was a horn call", said Feluan, "Nah, it sounded more like an animal being molested", replied Corster. The mage greeted the militia, Tavelle joked with Corster that if anyone knew about the sounds of a beast being molested, it would be "The Bear". They were accompanied as far as the inner ring of pyres.
- A winged blur flew from behind them and over their heads, Buross settled on the outstretched forearm of Lanneth. The half elven ranger stood beside the Reverend Harvestmaster and gave the wizard a wave as they drew closer, "Welcome back, anything happen?", he asked.
- Tavelle looked towards Derim, he was certain that the priest was responsible for the earth elemental, and the Reverend Harvestmaster gave him a wink. The mage smiled at the venerable priest, "We saw no activity from the wights... We were watching the barrows from a safe distance and saw a huge earth elemental. It caused a large landslip on the northern slope. It exposed some of the tunnels... getting into the barrows will be a lot less problematic", explained the mage.
- Lanneth looked to Derim Whiteshield in awe, "That's where you went, and the rock that you were carrying?", he asked. The Reverend Harvestmaster smiled broadly, "I thought it best not to cause a commotion by calling on Borrul'Duhr here at the farm". Lanneth shook his head in astonishment and transferred the eagle owl to a shoulderpad before he helped Erael dismount, "I've always wanted to see an elemental... from a safe distance, of course", said the ranger.
- Erael thanked Lanneth and gently stroked Buross on the side of his feathered head. Tavelle dismounted, gave Patches a pat on the neck, and dismissed the summoned mount, he looked to the Chauntean priest, "Forgive me Reverend Harvestmaster, I know it is late, would it be possible to speak with you privately, please?", Derim nodded, "Of course".
- Lanneth looked at the wizard and sniffed, "I'll leave you two to it and keep Buross circling". Tavelle glanced at the sorceress as the ranger of Mielikki walked off into the gloom, "Could myself and Erael come to your tent?". Derim smiled and nodded, "Please, follow me", he said.
- The pair followed the Reverend Harvestmaster towards his large tent, the two armoured attendants drew back the entrance flaps as they approached, and the trio made their way inside. The old priest removed his sandals and muttered an arcane phrase, the interior of the tent was bathed in a gentle radiance from the glowing globe. Derim ushered his guests towards a chair each. Once Erael and Tavelle were comfortable the old priest seated himself.
- The Reverend Harvestmaster smiled at Erael, the wizard could see a sparkle in Derim's grey eyes, "It is a genuine pleasure, my lady", said the priest of Chauntea.
- Erael looked down nervously into her lap, she clasped her hands tightly together, and the sorceress bit her bottom lip.
"She looks like a naughty toddler who's been caught stealing sweets. This isn't quite what I was expecting", remarked Tavelle's owner. "I think it's the thought of discussing the quest... everytime she has got anywhere near to talking about it she's appeared uncomfortable", continued the player.
- The sorceress glanced up to meet the twinkling eyes of the old priest, "Tavelle has told me that you know i'm a silver dragon", she said quietly. The Reverend Harvestmaster nodded, "Yes, my lady. I pieced together the clues before leaving the abbey. You have my word that i've not spoken of my suscipicions with anyone save Tavelle. When he refused to discuss you I chose to trust his judgement. I'm pleased you have decided to come and see me".
- Derim stood up and made his way to the table, he offered the pair a drink, which they both refused, and he poured himself some water into a stoneware cup. Tavelle scanned the wooden table and looked at the roughly polished stone. It definitely bore a burly resemblance to the elemental that the Reverend Harvest had named as Borrul'Duhr. Derim took his seat and smiled at the nervous looking sorceress, "My lady, you must tell me how we... no, how I can start to repay your valour?".
- Erael raised a dark eyebrow, "Valour?", she asked in surprise. The venerable priest nodded, "The Selmer family owe you their lives and the great bull wyvern is no longer a threat to Mistledale because of you.".
Tavelle's owner had a big smile on his face, "I like Derim and most importantly I trust him".
- The Reverend Harvestmaster continued, "Without your aid we would never have been able to react with such speed to the wights. Many more farms and homesteads would now be lost to us". Erael gave a polite nod to the priest of Chauntea.
Tavelle's owner was still smiling, "I like the direction Derim's taking... He's giving her a reminder of just how much she's helped. I don't believe she realised how much we owe her", he concluded.
- Derim Whiteshield leant forward in his chair, "Please, my lady... Erael... What are you doing in Mistledale?". Tavelle gently placed his hand on the shoulder of the sorceress, "The Reverend Harvestmaster has assured me that we cannot be scryed upon within this tent", he explained. Erael looked to the venerable Chauntean, the wizard felt as though an eternity passed before the sorceress spoke, "I seek a weapon that is vital to the survival of Stoneshield Hall. The dying prophecy, of a High Old One of Clangeddin, told of a weapon that could defeat the Witch King's army", explained the dragon.
- The priest of Chauntea nodded as he digested the information. Tavelle shifted in his chair when Erael had mentioned the army of the Witch King. Even with the largest congregation of militia and Riders of Mistledale that he had ever witnessed it was still hard to imagine a true army.
- "What type of weapon is it that you seek? A sword? An axe?", asked Derim.
"That's a damned good question and one I wish I'd asked", said Tavelle's owner.
- Erael gave a slight shrug, "I don't know what type of weapon... The prophecy just said it would be very cold and I would find it where the Mound King stirs", explained the sorceress.
Tavelle's player gave me a serious look, "Maybe the most important question of all is what the <censored> is this weapon capable of?" I mean, we're talking about an entire army and two red dracoliches?".
- Tavelle fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. The priest of Chauntea smiled warmly at the sorceress, "Erael, I will help in any way i'm able. If this weapon is indeed within the possession of this Mound King then I'll help you wrest it from his remains", declared Derim. Erael smiled and gave her thanks to the priest. The Reverend Harvestmaster stood up, took a sip of water, muttered some words under his breath, and poured the remaining water on the tilled earthen floor. Tavelle looked towards Erael and found the sorceress already looking in his direction, she smiled and discreetly mouthed her thanks.
- The priest of Chauntea placed his cup on the table and proceeded to open the wooden chest. Tavelle, stood along with Erael, "Thankyou, Reverend Harvestmaster", said the mage. Derim poked through the contents and closed the lid with a look of disappointment, "I thought I may have been able to help more. Unfortunately, the item in question is back at the Abbey". The wizard was intrigued, "What item is that?", he asked. Derim Whiteshield answered Tavelle's question while addressing Erael, "It is an Amethyst pendant, in the shape of a dove, it wards the wearer against scrying and other means of magical eavesdropping. When we return I would very much like you to have it".
- Erael nodded, "My thanks, Reverend Harvestmaster. But, are you sure you no longer need it?", asked the sorceress. Derim smiled, "It's been many years since I've even thought of it. It was a gift, to shield me against a very unscrupulous and greedy Sembite merchant family, The Dewke Brothers, led by Rendolf and Martimer. The Dewkes hired mages to find out about crop predictions by eavesdropping on me and they sought to corner the market... they were left copperless by the timely intervention of those who harp", explained the Chauntean priest.
- Derim thanked Erael once again for placing her faith and trust in him, "I think you two should go and seek some rest". Tavelle yawned, which triggered a yawn from Derim and Erael in quick succession, "I think you're right", said the sorceress. The pair bid Derim a good nights rest and departed the tent.
- Tavelle and Erael walked towards a small group of tents and they passed the occasional militiaman on watch. The wizard stopped beside the small fire outside Naema's tent and saw that Tynan was sat atop a backpack, at the entrance to his own tent, sharpening his longsword.
- Tynan gave a nod to the pair, and whispered, "How did your patrol go?". Erael quietly explained the events regarding the elemental and Tavelle poked his head through the opening of Naema's tent. The mage strained his eyes within the darkness... it was far too dark to see... all he could hear was some loud snoring from the bedroll.
Tavelle's owner gave me a very confused look, "I don't remember Naema ever snoring before". I described the guttural noise from the bedroll as very loud.
- Tavelle stifled a giggle and spoke in a hushed tone, "I'm going to have to turn you on your side, otherwise I'll not get any sleep, you noisy cow". The mage carefully knelt down and gently nudged the bedroll, "Roll over", he whispered.
"Is she really snoring that badly?", asked Tavelle's owner. The example noise that I provided seemed to freak the player out...
- Tavelle gave the bedroll a not so gentle shove to shift the snoring rider onto her back, "You lump, turn over!", he muttered.
I continued to describe the loud snoring and the fact Naema must be wearing at least some armour as she was very heavy...
- Tavelle's hands felt their way up the body in the bedroll and the snoring seemed to subside a little, Tavelle heard a deep, but sleepy, voice from beneath the blanket, "Mmmm, okay Hallinthe, you get on top and do all the work... yer old man's knackered". Tavelle blinked twice and looked confused, "Hallinthe? Isn't that Brondar's wife?", he asked himself.
- The blanket was turned down and a rather sleepy Brondar sniffed in Tavelle's direction, he pulled a face, "You smell like a Sembite whore", declared the fighter. The wizard smiled back at the bearded rider, "Why thankyou Bron, it's good to know you occasionally leave the dales to err... explore. Please go back to sleep and don't snore", replied the mage. The big fighter yawned, pulled the blanket back over himself, and drifted back to sleep with a long squeaky fart...
"Oh for <censored>'s sake!", said Tavelle's owner in disgust.
- Tavelle departed the tent to escape the smell and looked to Tynan, "Why is Bron in Naema's tent?", asked the mage. Tynan smirked as he continued to sharpen the blade and explained, "The Shield wanted to make sure you two were kept separated". Tavelle shot a glance towards Erael in embarrassment, "Oh dear", was all he could manage as a response.
- Erael bid Tavelle and Tynan a good night and decided to depart to Nelyssa's tent. Tynan looked up at the wizard and sniffed, "You smell like a whores drawers... Is that honeysuckle?", remarked the militiaman. Tavelle wanted to laugh but just replied with a nod.
"That damned soap! I smell like a tart!", complained Tavelle's owner.
- Tavelle parted the tent flap and checked for noxious odours, once he was satisfied the fart had been all bark and no bite Tavelle bid Tynan goodnight and made his way warily inside. He removed his gloves, weaponbelt, tabard, and boots, the mage then crouched down to prepare his bedroll... Something at the back of his mind nagged at him...
The DM gave the player a note, which read, "Tavelle has just remembered about the strip of black cloth he found earlier". Tavelle's owner gave me a confused look, "He has?", he asked suscipiciously. The DM nodded, "Yes, and another thought has just entered Tavelle's mind too". The DM provided another note, "Tavelle believes it would be a nice addition, tied around his wrist, next to the leather band".
- As the wizard smoothed out the winterblanket he remembered his memento was in the pocket of his other breeches, "I'm glad I didn't forget that", whispered the mage. Tavelle stood up quietly and rooted inside the pockets of his drying breeches. Someone had pegged a line, along with his tunic and cloak, within the arch of the tent. The mage withdrew his hand from the pocket and he looked at the strip of dark cloth, "You would look splendid tied around my wrist", muttered Tavelle absentmindedly as he settled down to sleep in his bedroll.
Off-Screen.
Tavelle rolled onto his side with a fitful groan... the cloaked, skeletal spectre that haunted his sleep felt very real and threatening...
The strip of dark cloth tied around the mage's wrist seemed to shift and tighten of its own accord... A green crackle of energy shifted across the material, revealing long forgotten runes of necromantic script...
The skeletal undead horror reached out to the the mage with it's long, slender, taloned hands... Tavelle tried to move but felt paralyzed and helpless... The cloaked form drew Tavelle into a close embrace... The wizard attempted to scream as he felt his life force being stolen away... |
|
|
|
Dalor Darden
Great Reader
USA
4211 Posts |
Posted - 14 Apr 2014 : 00:47:36
|
| Glad to see it still going man! |
The Old Grey Box and AD&D for me! |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 03 Jul 2014 : 21:13:57
|
Yep, still going
This update is the first instalment of a whole game session. I'm hoping to post the 2nd and final part on Sunday.
I have a part of the next session written up already and I'll post it when it's finished. I won't be updating the scroll for quite a while after that. I've got lots to do for Tavelle's next challenge, away from Mistledale.
A couple of days before this game session was due to start I received a reply from The Hooded One. It was about a question I’d submitted to Ed’s scroll in regards to lore about Captain Baergil. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and I wished I’d posed the question a few months earlier – I would’ve had far less fiddling around to do.
The response from Ed was simply amazing and the fact we can get our questions answered still stuns me! I was completely blown away with the depth and detail Ed so graciously provided. The information did throw a slight spanner in the works due to finding out Captain Baergil retired from The Riders of Mistledale in 1352 (Our game is currently in 1353). I wanted to incorporate this lore, so the DM decided Darrask had semi-retired, he was still the official Captain, and was personally involved in appointing a replacement. At the same time as being a figurehead for the organisation he was also pursuing his calling as a priest of Tempus.
Captain Baergil had set up a small shrine to the Lord of Battles, within his quarters, at the barracks. The focal point for this shrine was a statue of a stone sword. The statue had the ability to confer a tempering effect to a weapon in contact with it, and the statue delivered this boon on very rare occasions (read that as whenever the DM fancies). The stone sword had been recovered from a caravan, which had been attacked in Mistledale, and Captain Baergil brought it back to the barracks. It was around this time Captain Baergil started having dream visions, sent by Tempus, to pursue his faith.
That’s how I reconciled the new lore into the game and I didn’t think it worked out too badly.
Update (11th September 2011)
- Tavelle awoke to the sounds of the encampment and immediately regretted it. His entire body ached and he felt terrible. It was as if he had been trampled in his sleep. He vaguely remembered a dream but the details were lost when he attempted to recall them. “Aah <censored> me!”, groaned the wizard as he sat, upright, in the bedroll. A thought popped into his head, I should leave and ride far away from the barrows… Only death awaits me.
The thought of fleeing was a Suggestion from the strip of cloth around his wrist. This was opposed against the last of the phantom Diplomacy checks… It was the only roll to succeed. The Dark Remnant of Kendra's Cloak had stolen away Tavelle's life energy while he slept. He was now a whole point of Constitution lighter.
- Tavelle shook his head at the strange notion and regretted the action just as much as waking up, “What in the nine hells did Bron do to me last night?”, muttered the wizard as he pushed the hair away from his eyes. Tavelle struggled out of the bedroll and pulled his boots on, “I bet I’ve got a cold coming”, he grumbled and had to flick his head to see through his unruly fringe. As the mage finished dressing he decided against donning the damp cloak – the Endure Elements was still active, after all.
- The mage checked his equipment and remembered to speak with The Shield before he committed his spells to memory. Tavelle mused about the irony of it all, "I’m such a hypocrite", thought the wizard.
- Tavelle ducked his head as he left the tent and gauged the time as just before highsun. Brondar was waiting by the fire, “I thought I heard you stir. You look rough”, said the burly fighter. Tavelle was surprised to see the Rider of Mistledale, “I had a terrible night, I feel bloody awful. Why aren’t you at the barrows with the others?”. Brondar let out a sigh of exasperation, “I ain’t 'appy, I won’t fit down some of the tunnels. The Reverend Harvestmaster sent Liria to scout them. He cast something on her to hide her from the wights”. Tavelle nodded as he listened to the fighter, "I bet Liria wasn’t too happy about going in the tunnels", thought the wizard.
- Tavelle collected his spellbook from the tent and took a seat next to Brondar by the fire, “I’m sorry you won’t fit in the tunnels”, admitted the mage as he tried to console the fighter. Tavelle opened the tome, and looked to Brondar, “What did Liria find and what are the tunnels like?”.
- The Rider explained the cramped, claustrophobic conditions, and some of the tunnels were partially submerged. The fighter continued while the mage studied his spelltome, “Liria found a single tunnel, to a larger chamber, in the hole left by the elemental. There’s three exits to explore in the chamber and they’ve split the force to tackle them”. Tavelle broke away from his study, “How have they been allocated?”, he asked with interest. Brondar raised a bushy eyebrow, “You’re with The Shield, Kinara, Sister Alena, Tolben, Tynan, Lenthrey, Serrick, and Aulkren”. The mage nodded his approval and the fighter continued, “The Reverend Harvestmaster will be with Lanneth, Brother Xarran, Talista, Cernien, Eridge, Colecar, and Trentos from the Abbey".
- The wizard was left shaking his head after Brondar detailed the second party, “Jentar is leading the third group?”, he asked incredulously. Brondar scowled, “No, yer girl is. She’s taking him with her”, Tavelle looked to the Rider, “She’s to lead a group? Do you think Naema will be alright?”. Brondar raised his brows and gave a chuckle, “Naema’s not going, I meant yer other woman…”, teased the fighter. The mage closed his spellbook, “If Naema was to hear you say such a thing she’d batter me senseless”, admitted the wizard. “Aah well…”, said the Rider as he looked into his lap, “What do you mean, Aah well?”, asked Tavelle with a touch of concern. The burly Rider fidgeted and started to explain, “The Shield didn’t want you two down there together in case you…”, Tavelle chose the pause to interrupt, “What? Start rutting in the tunnels? A tent is one thing, a wight infested barrow is another matter entirely!”, fumed the mage. Brondar started laughing, “No, I don’t think it’s that. It’s more about not being distracted”. Tavelle banged his forehead on the cover of his spellbook, “<censored>! Is that how it was explained?”, asked the mage. The Rider nodded, “Pretty much. She didn’t take the news well”, the wizard rolled his eyes in disbelief, “She’s gonna kill me”, he concluded grimly. It was as Tavelle spoke the word that another strange thought appeared in his mind, "I should think again about going to the barrows. I’m gonna get myself killed".
Once again the thought had been provided by the strip of cloth. There were no magical compulsions attached this time… The strip of black cloth would be patient and sow doubts.
- Brondar snorted in derision, “Nah, she’s disappointed that’s all. Jentar was the angriest at first and argued with The Shield. Derim reminded him that it's Nelyssa who's the Swordar”. Tavelle nodded, “Heh, good”. The Rider of Mistledale gave the wizard a nudge, “Yer don’t seem too surprised about Erael taking lead of a party?”. Tavelle pulled a face and prodded the fighter back, “The Reverend Harvestmaster knows how powerful she is”.
- Brondar stood up, “I’ll go and get Fury ready while you read, are you hungry?, Tavelle nodded, “I’m starving Bron, thanks a lot”, and the mage found a page to his liking within the tome. The wizard pored over his spellbook and began memorising the enchantments he considered necessary. Brondar returned with two wooden trenchers of hot lamb stew, he took a seat, and handed one to Tavelle. The wizard thanked the Rider for the food and ate while he read. By the time Tavelle finished the stew he had also completed his study. The mage checked he had everything he needed, “I think I’ve got everything”. Brondar nodded and the pair made their way to the horses.
- The wizard greeted Fury with a clap on the neck, the warhorse returned it with a nuzzle, and a nibble, on the shoulder. Tavelle stowed the spellbook in a saddlebag and swung himself up into the saddle.
- The pair were approached by several militiamen who wished them well as they rode towards the outer pyres. The mage couldn’t avert his eyes from the watchpyre that he and Brondar had thrown Allam onto. Tavelle recognised Gothalt and Harran, from the Rodrathe Orchards, the older man smiled broadly at the wizard, “Well met master Tavelle, good hunting to you!”. The mage thanked Harran, even though his attention was elsewhere. He rode away from the farm and up the hill with Brondar.
- As they reached the top tavelle looked back to the Lannane farm and the many tents of the Riders of Mistledale, “What’re yer doing?”, asked the fighter. The mage shrugged his shoulders, “Just having one last look I guess?”. The Rider sidled up to the wizard’s mount, “What’s all this?". The mage shook his head, “I don’t know… I had a strange feeling when I woke up… It’s a nagging thought that somehow I’m doomed”. The fighter started laughing, “Doomed! Doomed! We’re all doomed!”, he cackled loudly. Tavelle raised his eyebrows as he looked to Brondar, “Thanks for the support”, said the wizard sarcastically. The Rider gave his horse a gentle dig and started forwards, “Come on, doom’s waiting. When yer meet him tweak his nose and kick him in the knackers!”. The mage had to laugh at the comment and urged Fury to follow.
- Tavelle drew alongside the fighter and Brondar addressed the Wizard, “Listen, the worst part of any battle is the waiting for it. Doubts can creep into yer mind and yer start thinking of a hundred ‘What ifs?’. Prepare as much as yer able, trust in yer swordbrothers, and make sure they can rely on you”. Tavelle nodded, “I will do my best… I would ask a favour of my own, when this is over. Would you teach me how to fight properly, please?”. Brondar looked at the mage and his eyebrows vanished into the brow of his helm, “Fight properly?”, he asked. Tavelle nodded again, “I’d never held a real sword until Asantar crafted Anvil’s Edge… I know the basics of swordplay thanks to Naema… I want to do the sword justice”. Brondar nodded, “It’s a fine weapon and Captain Baergil told me of the tempering”.
- Tavelle recalled the events in the shrine of Tempus at the barracks, “Captain Baergil said the tempering rendered the weapon unbreakable”. Brondar nodded, “Aye, I’ve seen the flames twice before. The first time was me own sword, and then there was Nelyssa’s scimitar. There’s been a few others, nothing recent until yours and yer girlfriend’s”. Tavelle glanced at Brondar, “I never knew about Naema’s longsword”. The big fighter started laughing again, “I meant Erael”. The mage grinned at the Rider, “You’re going to get me beaten up”. Brondar clapped Tavelle on the shoulder, “I’ll make a fighter out of yer, have no doubts about that. We’ll do it my way though and I don’t want any arguments over me methods”. The wizard gave a grin, “That all sounds a bit ominous?”, and the Rider replied, “We’ll be needing to toughen yer up”.
Tavelle’s player pulled a face , “I’m not sure I like the sound of that!”, he said nervously.
- The pair could see the barrows of the wights, along with a lot of Mistrans, and as many horses. As Tavelle rode closer he could see a number of small tented canopies, “What are those for?”, he asked. Brondar explained the tents were to deal with any wounded, “They’ve brought a few of the clergy from the Abbey. Some of the more wordly will be going with yer, and the others will be waiting outside”. The pair rode towards where the horses had been hobbled and dismounted. The mage checked his saddlebags and saw the bottle of raspberry wine, along with a spare set of clothing. Tavelle removed the bottle to show Bron, “At least I can change into clean gear and get drunk if I survive”, said the wizard with a big grin. The burly Rider looked at Tavelle and glanced past the mage, “Heh! That’s the spirit!”, he chuckled, “Now put the bottle away we’ve company”.
- They were met by Naema and Tynan who had walked over from the barrows. Tavelle noted that Naema didn’t look very happy, she barely managed a smile as she approached.
Tavelle’s owner looked a bit gloomy, “It would seem our night of passion, in the tent, is causing a few problems and I reckon she’s been told off by Nelyssa. I clearly remember what Naema said when we spent the night at Sword’s Creek”. I was so glad he remembered… Naema had told Tavelle how hard it had been to convince her father about her desire to become a Rider of Mistledale. It had been her ambition since she was seven summers old. The young Naema had nagged her father constantly until he caved in and a Sembite swordsmaster was hired. “Being a Rider of Mistledale is who I am and is all I’ve ever wanted to be”, was her explanation at Sword’s Creek. Tavelle’s player was still looking rather depressed, “She’d better not think it’s all my fault”.
- The wizard greeted the pair and Naema made her way over to Tavelle, "You look awful, are you alright? What's happened to your hair?", she asked with some concern. Tavelle shrugged and his hair fell scross his eyes, "I woke up feeling as rough as a Barbazu's arse. <censored> knows what's going on with my hair" grinned the wizard in an attempt to cheer Naema up. Naema raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry you’re not coming with me”, admitted the mage. The Rider shrugged and cast her eyes to the ground, “I don’t think they’ll ever let us patrol together again”, she explained despondently.
- They began the short walk to where the main body of militia, Riders, and Chaunteans were gathered. As they walked Naema gave as much advice to Tavelle as she could think of, ”I’m glad you’re going with Nelyssa. She took the time to explain her reasoning behind the decision”, she said sincerely. Tavelle was curious, “What did she say?”, he asked, “Nelyssa said there were plenty of swords venturing into the tunnels. You and Erael could provide something else”, explained the young Rider. Naema handed the mage a clay flask, "A flask of Chauntean holy water, take it with you". Tavelle thanked the Rider and tied it to his belt.
- Tavelle heard several cries of “Swordmage!”, and the occasional, “Yarr!”, thrown in for good measure. The mage did notice that the crude gesture was absent throughout.
- There were some familiar faces amongst the three groups and others Tavelle didn’t recognise. The militia were armoured in chainmail and each carried a light shield. The Chauntean priests who were mingling with the militia wore bronze-hued chainmail and matching breastplates.
“I really wish I could wear armour”, said Tavelle’s owner, “Everybody looks better wearing armour”, he whinged. The DM made the point about having Mage Armour available… The response was, “It’s not the same, you can’t see it”. Tavelle’s player asked, “Are any of them wearing their cloaks?”, and the DM nodded in confirmation.
- Tavelle glanced about the militia, “You would be well advised to remove your cloaks before venturing into the barrows”. There were a few nods of agreement and many clasps unfastened.
- The Reverend Harvestmaster and The Shield approached Tavelle, “Sound advice”, commented Nelyssa with a smile. The wizard bowed his head in respect and noticed his hair seemed longer. The Shield noticed as Tavelle lifted his gaze, “Would you like something to keep the hair out of your eyes?”, asked the paladin. The mage nodded and his fringe fell across his face, “Yes please, if you’ve one spare. It really wasn’t this long yesterday”. Tavelle accepted a thin leather strip and started pulling his hair back. He tied the cord around a loose ponytail,. “I need a trim”, concluded the mage.
- Nelyssa explained the plans for the expedition into the tunnels, “We stay together in our groups and don’t get stretched out. The tunnels are very tight so I doubt we’ll get overwhelmed. We deal with any wights we come across and save our priests wrath. I want to coordinate our assault, each group is to wait for the others, if possible, before launching into a final confrontation”. The Reverend Harvestmaster nodded in agreement, “They will likely have constructed a larger chamber where they lair, it would be wise to be at full strength before any attack begins”.
- Tavelle took in all of the information, “How far did Liria scout? Did she explore all three tunnels?”, asked the mage. Derim nodded, “Yes, all three were partially scouted and Liria explored as much as she was able”.
Tavelle’s player looked impressed, “Fair play to Liria. Invisible or not, I wouldn’t have been happy in there on my own”.
- Nelyssa looked at the wizard with some concern and asked Tavelle if he was alright, “You look tired, did you not sleep well?”, the mage shook his head, “I slept with Brondar and had the worst night’s sleep ever. I awoke feeling like I’d been run over by one of Elmo’s carriages and I think I’ve got a cold coming”. Nelyssa nodded, “Are you well enough for the barrows?”. As Tavelle was about to reply a thought came to the mage, “Say no”, it prompted.
The thought was from the cloth around Tavelle’s wrist. It had decided to proceed stealthily in the presence of goodly priests and paladins… It would not squander the Suggestions and its other powers… The mage had easily resisted the first attempt, in the tent, and the strip of cloth began to ponder that it might not be as easy to manipulate the wizard as it had first hoped.
- Tavelle gave a smile, “I’m fine, it must be the beginning of something, that’s all”, he assured Nelyssa.
The DM barely succeeded in maintaining a poker-face at the choice of words the player used.
- Tavelle saw Erael approach, she was clad in her shining mithral breastplate, and the Lionswrath Blade was sheathed at her hip. The sorceress looked Tavelle up and down, and asked, “Are you alright? You look terrible”. The mage sighed, and replied, “I had a rough night sleeping with Bron and I think I’ve got a cold coming”. Erael emptied the familiar contents of a small velvet purse and handed Tavelle the pair of Ioun Stones, I thought these might help in there?”.
- The wizard smiled and nodded, “Thank you for the loan”. Naema looked at the two stones in the wizard’s palm, “What are they?”, she asked. The mage tossed them, one after the other, into the air and they began a lazy orbit around him. Tavelle explained to the Rider that the two stones were enchanted to sharpen his senses and increase the potency of his magic. The priest of Chauntea excused himself and walked over to Brother Waylam. Nelyssa advised Tavelle to prepare himself and then to join her, “The Reverend Harvestmaster has readied some powerful prayers to aid us in our task”.
- Tavelle and Naema were left standing alone. The Rider reached up to the nape of her neck and unfastened the clasp of the silver, blowing-horses pendant. Above the Mistran charm was a softly glowing moonstone sphere in a silver claw mount. Naema held it out to Tavelle, “I want you to take this”, she explained, and the wizard nodded. Naema helped the mage fasten the pendant and then produced a small glass vial from behind her back, “I want you to take this too. It’s a healing potion and my father insists it’s a powerful one”.
- Tavelle thanked Naema and, as he accepted the potion, a thought crossed his mind, “I might never see you again?”. The mage put one hand, to the hilt of Anvil’s Edge, the other resting on the butt of his wand, and he tried to dismiss all the nagging doubts. Naema looked towards the sword at Tavelle’s side and offered some final advice, ”Try and stay behind the shield wall and support them with your magic. Remember, if it all goes to the nine hells, just do whatever you can”.
- Tavelle took Naema’s hands into his and leant in to kiss her. The Rider pulled away, but didn’t break the hold, “We shouldn’t”, was all she managed to say. Tavelle glanced over his shoulder at the groups of militia, Riders, and priests. He looked back to Naema, “From what I’m led to believe we’ll never be allowed to patrol together again?”, and she nodded her head in agreement. Tavelle smiled, “So, Kiss me. What else can they do?”, said the wizard.
- The pair shared a long kiss and were left wondering if it might be their last.
To be continued...
|
Edited by - Farrel on 03 Jul 2014 21:17:42 |
|
|
|
Farrel
Learned Scribe
United Kingdom
239 Posts |
Posted - 06 Jul 2014 : 21:05:29
|
Continuation...
- Tavelle walked towards the Shield of Chauntea’s group. As he made his way past Lanneth, and his men, he heard the ranger call to him, ”Do I get a kiss, fair wizard?”. Tavelle gave a mischievous grin, nodded, and laughed, “If we both survive, you can have a kiss, yes”. Lanneth put on a serious expression, drew a dagger, and said, “I’d best do myself in now”, with a sly wink.
- Tavelle joined Nelyssa, Kinara, Sister Alena, and he greeted the militia. The mage saw the Reverend Harvestmaster was with Erael and Jentar’s party, the priest had unfurled a scroll, and was praying to Chauntea. The parchment was consumed in fire and the group glowed, with a feint blue aura, for a brief moment. The wizard looked at Erael's group and could see Jentar, Eventar, Brother Handev, Melfrem, and a few he didn't recognise.
- Brother Waylam followed the old priest, he opened a large scrollcase and retrieved another rolled parchment. Another scroll was used, on Lanneth and his group, which produced the same blue glow encompassing them all. Tavelle saw a steely determination in Lanneth’s eyes and he looked far more focussed. The ranger of Mielikki seemed to sense Tavelle’s gaze upon him and he glanced over to give the mage a nod.
- Tynan and Serrick stood next to the wizard and Tavelle noted a flask of Holy Water attached to each of their belts. Serrick saw the Reverend Harvestmaster coming their way, he was unfurling another scroll, “Our turn”, said the militiaman. Tavelle heard Derim clear his throat and begin reading from the scroll. The mage didn’t understand the language but he could feel a power behind the words. The scroll burst into flames, vanished to smoke, and a blue radiance outlined each member of Nelyssa’s group. Tavelle felt his doubts fade and they were replaced with a determination, “For the Lannane’s, Allam Bluehands, the Berwick’s, the Lardagren’s, and for Helton”, thought the wizard.
Each of the three groups had benefitted from a Mass Conviction (CL12) and had received a +4 Morale bonus to Saving Throws for 120 minutes.
- Brother Waylam had wandered over to the where the landslide had exposed a tunnel to join Brondar. The rotund priest had a slender white wand in his hand.
- Tavelle decided it was time to cast some enchantments of his own. He started by calling upon some Mage Armour and, as he spoke the arcane words, it caused a few stares. The wizard then cast Light of Lunia and it drew gasps as a very feint, sixty foot, hemisphere of silver light was summoned. Tavelle heard Nelyssa’s voice, “I was hoping you’d prepared that enchantment”. The mage turned to face the paladin, smiled, and replied, “I’ll try and keep it at full strength. If you notice the radiance diminish then it means I’m having to use it as a weapon”. Tavelle decided it would be a good idea to offer The Shield of Chauntea his Low Light Vision enchantment, “It would help improve your sight beyond the range of my light”, explained the wizard. Nelyssa gladly accepted the enchantment and, after Tavelle had finished, Kinara commented on the, “Silver flecks”, in the paladin’s eyes.
Wizard Spells Prepared (4/4/2 base DC = 14 + spell level; caster level 3rd)
0- Detect Magic, Disrupt Undead x2, Light
1st- Burning Hands, Light of Lunia, Low Light Vision, Shield
2nd- Battering Ram, Mirror Image
Wand of Magic Missiles (CL3; 6 Charges)
Scroll Case: Mage Armour (CL3); Mount (CL5)
- Brondar called the first group forwards to the entrance. Lanneth entered first and was followed by the Reverend Harvestmaster. As the militia made their way past, and into the tunnel, the Rider handed every other person a small glass vial. Brother Waylam asked each militiaman what item they wanted to carry a spell of Light. The majority chose their shields and a few had glowing swords as they entered.
- Tavelle’s group was called next. The Mage fell into line behind Kinara and in front of Sister Alena. As they approached the dark opening, into the side of the hill, it was fully illuminated with the silver light emanating from Tavelle. The mage drew Anvil’s Edge with his right hand and the Wand of Magic Missiles with his left. The wizard ducked his head, as he avoided some hanging turf, and stepped into the mound. The floating Ioun Stones altered their orbit, due to the cramped conditions, and all the mage could smell was the damp earthiness surrounding him.
- The silver light completely filled the tight tunnel. The only shadows cast, from Tynan’s glowing shield, were faint and flickering against the walls. A thought came to the wizard as he made his way forwards, “I’d better take one last look at the daylight. I might never see it again”. Tavelle turned his head and saw the last fraction of the sunlight before it was obscured. Sister Alena glanced at the mage as he craned his neck, “Are you alright?”, she asked. The wizard gave a half smile, “I was just comparing sunlight and starlight”, he lied. Kinara hushed Tavelle to be quiet and the chastised wizard did as he was told.
- Tavelle came out of the tunnel and entered a large chamber. The cavern was about forty feet in length and width. The ceiling was only a foot above the wizard’s head and the masses of roots dripped water. There were three exits, tunnelled into the rough earthen walls, and Tavelle could see the remains of four, still smouldering, wight corpses spread between them.
- Lanneth and Derim were stood fifteen feet in front of the tunnels, the ranger had his longsword drawn, and the priest had a hand on his sickle.
- Nelyssa made her way to the Reverend Harvestmaster and she was shadowed by Kinara. The paladin stopped next to the old priest, with the undead hating scimitar in her hand. The curved blade started to glow with a white radiance, “They are close”, she warned those already assembled. Tavelle peered into the tunnels, beyond the border of his moonlight, watching for movement. The mage walked with Sister Alena as she approached Derim Whiteshield.
Two devious half wights had attempted to conceal themselves down the northern tunnel, a wight was doing the same in the eastern, and western tunnels. The two half wights in the tunnel would be within the hemisphere of silver light if Tavelle moved adjacent to Nelyssa or Alena. The wight in the eastern tunnel would be affected if Tavelle moved next to Lanneth or Derim. Both of the full wights were extremely well camouflaged (+8 Hide) due to their stone-like appearance and ability to remain perfectly motionless. The two small half wights, who were once a five year old girl called Jemmily Lannane, and her fourteen year old brother Jaffrick, were both heavily caked in mud (+6 Hide).
- Tavelle stepped up alongside Sister Alena and his two orbiting stones followed him.
The two half wights were now within the radius of the Light of Lunia emanating thirty feet from Tavelle.
- The silver radiance extended fifteen feet down the north tunnel and the light it provided allowed Tavelle to search the shadows further in. The mage could see forty feet inside before the tunnel veered left and his view was blocked.
The animus of the half wight, which was animating the corpse of the little girl, reacted angrily to the light. It parted with the wall, where it had been hiding, and started to seek the darkness.
- Tavelle’s silver eyes scanned the dimly lit depths and had been further enhanced by the magic of the Ioun Stone. The wizard saw a small form break away from the wall twenty feet down the tunnel.
“Eh? Small form?”, said Tavelle’s owner in surprise.
- “Is Liria still down here?”, asked Tavelle loudly, in a rather urgent tone. Nelyssa saw the movement too, “No, she isn’t”, replied the paladin. Just as soon as Nelyssa finished replying. two, silver-blue, missiles flew down the tunnel (5 charges remaining). The magical bolts of force sparkled in the dim light, as they swiftly cleared the silver radiance, and swooped after their prey.
Tavelle rolled 8 points of damage.
- The small half wight nearly reached the turn as the two Magic Missiles struck in rapid succession, one between the shoulder blades, and the other in the lower back (8/11). The half wight vanished from sight as it made it past the turn.
- A thought entered Tavelle’s mind, “There may be more”, and the wizard raised an eyebrow. The mage kept the wand readied, and walked to the entrance of the northern tunnel. The wizard watched the light slide down the passage and his eyes scanned the walls. A slightly larger figure broke from its hiding place and attempted to flee the radiance. Tavelle unleashed two more Magic Missiles (4 charges remaining) and they sped down the tunnel to strike the undead creature before it disappeared (9/13).
- Tavelle heard a stern voice from behind him, “It hardly seems worth using the wand if it can’t drop them. We’ll still be faced with them later”, and turned to see it was Jentar. The mage looked at the paladin, with his shield radiating an orange light, and gave a slight shake of his head. The Reverend Harvestmaster turned to Jentar, “Even if the hasn’t sent the wights to their final deaths it may mean someone has an easier time when confronting them later”, advised the priest.
- Each of the three groups readied themselves, in front of their respective tunnels, and prepared to enter. Tavelle followed Nelyssa and Kinara into the entrance, the mage ducked his head, and was forced to stoop over. The ceiling was low, the ground was muddy, and the wizard felt the occasional drip fall on his head or run down his neck. Tavelle could catch glimpses of the tunnel ahead as the two in front moved forwards. They turned the corner, which the wights fled around, and the tunnel got a lot tighter.
- Tavelle saw Kinara stop a few feet ahead of him, the Rider from Peldan’s Helm turned to the wizard, “There’s a tunnel in the left wall up ahead”. Nelyssa crept towards the side tunnel and stopped short. Tavelle could see the paladin concentrate, in the direction of the passageway for a few moments, and then peer around the corner. The paladin called Kinara, Serrick, and Siter Alena to investigate the new passage, and the trio entered, while Nelyssa and the rest edged further on.
- Tavelle followed the Shield of Chauntea and the wizard kept his wits about him. Tynan was following the mage, the fighter started chuckling and commented on the cramped tunnel, “You know what Tavelle? This hole is tighter than your father!”. The wizard had to smile, his father had a well-deserved reputation for being a stereotypical Sembite – He really liked to get himself a bargain. The wizard recalled one of his visits to Multhimmer, the merchant was always pleased to see Tavelle, and had explained, “I always enjoy your shopping trips to town. I look forward to dealing with you, lad. Your father leaves the shop with me feeling like I’ve been frisked!”.
A wight was waiting, up ahead, and it was very well concealed. The centuries old creature was squashed into a prepared “Cubby-Hole”. The Spot check would be a tough DC24.
- The mage noticed Nelyssa was pausing briefly, every twenty feet, and focussing down the tunnel. The paladin raised her left hand, and gave the signal to stop. The wizard saw the paladin’s hand beckon him, “Tavelle, come closer. There’s a wight up ahead, somewhere, I can sense its evil. Let’s see if it likes your silver light?”.
- Tavelle kept glancing at Nelyssa's scimitar to see if it was glowing. The wizard had already decided it was the most reliable resource for gauging the proximity of wights. The beautiful, curved, blade was radiating a feint light. The mage stood right behind Nelyssa and edged forwards with his wand raised.The pair continued slowly, with the silver light ahead of them, and they searched the walls.
- The scimitar's glow brightened and the light seemed to throb in anticipation, "Very close", whispered Nelyssa.
The pair were within thirty feet of the wight. I asked Tavelle's owner for a Spot check. Even with the +2 bonus from the Ioun stone he managed a total of 9. Nelyssa couldn't see the wight either her total was 15.
- The wight was tight in the alcove when the leading edge of the silver light crept over and engulfed it. The radiance was extremely uncomfortable for the lurking undead horror. It seemed to fill and penetrate the warren around it. Previous experiences, of the centuries old animus, had taught it that light sources could be extinguished. The wight leapt from its hidey-hole, it would put the light out, and feed on the life energy it could feel.
- Tavelle saw a wight, the creature seemingly emerged from a wall, and charged down the tunnel at Nelyssa. The paladin raised her hungrily glowing scimitar and readied herself. Tavelle loosed two Magic Missiles, from the wand (3 charges remaining). They flew over Nelyssa's shoulder and struck the wight in the torso (7/33). The wight didn't really seem to notice the darts of magical force. The taloned hands scrambled against the walls as it propelled itself towards Nelyssa.
- The paladin had her shield strapped to her back, due to contrictions of their location, and Nelyssa knew she would struggle for space to fight. Some parts of the tunnel were barely two feet wide.
The wight's initiative totalled 9 and Nelyssa's was 12. Tavelle had already acted due to having readied his wand.
- The paladin reacted faster than the wight, Nelyssa's glowing sword came forward to meet it in a controlled slice.
Nelyssa rolled a 13... 12 points of damage.
- The scimitar sank deeply into the wight's shoulder (19/33). Tavelle heard the creature howl in agony, and noticed the glow from the sword get even brighter as it sliced hard into the wight. The paladin of Chauntea attempted a second stroke with the scimitar.
Nelyssa rolled a 10... 15 points of damage.
- It sent the wight to its final death (34/33). Tavelle kept his gaze directly down the tunnel as the glow of the sword hadn't dimmed significantly. The mage heard Tynan's voice from behind him, "Sister Alena, Kinara, and Serrick are at our rear. The passage joined with Erael's group".
I asked Tavelle's player for a Listen check and he rolled a 20.
- Tavelle thought he could hear movement, from further up ahead, it sounded like scrambling, "They're coming!", warned the wizard. Nelyssa equipped her shield, from her back, and checked her footing, "Tynan and Serrick ready your flasks! Tavelle, fall back to Alena!", she commanded.
- Tavelle saw Nelyssa position the shield carefully, so it blocked the path as much as possible, then she stepped back and away from it. The large shield remained hanging, in the tight tunnel where Nelyssa left it, with no apparent means of support.
“I really want to ask! But there’s no time for me to stand and gawp!”, said Tavelle’s player.
- The mage saw the two militiamen crouch down, “Climb over us!”, called Serrick. Tavelle sheathed his weapons, and used the walls to steady his crossing. As the wizard stepped off of Serrick he heard a loud thud as the lead wight crashed into Nelyssa’s immobile shield, and the first impact was followed by three more. Tavelle could see deathly claws try to reach over the top of the barrier and the mage readied himself.
- “Do it now!”, shouted the paladin, as she sliced at the grasping talons. To his horror Tavelle saw a half wight clamber over the few being held back by the shield, “It’ll block the throws!”, thought the wizard. Moments before the first flask was ready, to be thrown by Tynan, Tavelle turned side on. The mage aimed his palm at the scrambling half wight and unleashed a Disrupt Undead spell.
Tavelle rolled a 15 for the ranged touch attack… 5 points of damage.
- The ray of positive energy hit the half wight in the thigh and the creature screamed in anger (5/13). Tavelle saw a golden light from behind him, a glowing ball of energy flew over his shoulder, and it struck the half wight in the torso (11/13). The half wight tumbled backwards with two burned, and smoking, scars, one in the thigh, and the other in the abdomen. Tynan lobbed the clay flask over Nelyssa’s head, and a second flask from Serrick followed it.
Two of the four wights were hit directly (7/26) (5/27). Another two had splash damage from two flasks (2/28) (2/29), and the other half wight was slain outright (13/13).
- Tavelle removed the fragile clay flask from his belt, he cupped it in his right hand, and the wizard nodded to Nelyssa, “One more for Lady Luck!”.
“Oh dear”, said Tavelle’s owner, and he looked rather worried, “I wonder if Tavelle’s actually thrown anything in his life?” What if I screw up and hit Tynan or Serrick? Even worse, what if I get Nelyssa?”, he fretted.
Tavelle rolled a 18 for the ranged touch attack… 6 points of damage.
- The clay flask flew over the trio, over the hanging shield, and a partially dissolved wight was smashed in the face (8/28). The container broke apart and showered its contents over the others adjacent to it (6/27) (3/29).
- The mage breathed a discreet sigh of relief. “Good throw!”, said Tynan, as he finished assembling a spear. “Ha! Right in the mush!”, laughed Serrick, as he completed his own weapon. Tavelle saw a wight try to claw its way under the shield, to swing a taloned hand at the paladin, it came up short. The wight was halfway through the gap when Nelyssa’s, undead hating, scimitar arced down towards it.
Nelyssa rolled a 10… 11 points of damage.
- The wight took a heavy hit in the shoulder (18/26). The paladin followed up the first strike with an attempt at a second.
Nelyssa rolled a 12… 17 points of damage.
- When the second hit connected, the wight ceased thrashing, and embraced its final death (34/26). Tavelle drew Anvil’s Edge, the wizard knew he had no chances of fighting due to being fifteen feet behind Nelyssa at the front, the mage just wanted to be armed. Tavelle readied another Disrupt Undead spell and looked to the gap above the metal barrier. He could see Serrick and Tynan were now equipped with their spears, they were pressed tight on opposing walls. The militiamen used the extra reach to jab above or below the immovable shield. Tynan was behind Nelyssa and Tavelle noticed he still had a spare spear shaft on his back. Serrick had used all three of his sections, “That’s a clever idea”, thought the wizard.
- A wight leapt up and nearly cleared the hanging shield. Tynan’s spear tip lunged in.
Tynan rolled a 16… 7 points of damage.
- The spear skewered the wight in the abdomen and the fighter didn’t retract the thrust (15/28). Serrick’s spear tip darted towards the impaled undead horror.
Serrick rolled a 8.
- The thrust went wide of the target, Tavelle heard the militiaman curse under his breath. The wizard let fly with a ray of bright positive energy, from his open palm.
Tavelle rolled a 13 for the ranged touch attack… 2 points of damage.
- The wight tried to move against Nelyssa as the beam grazed its arm (17/28). There was a flash of light and a globe of golden energy came over Tavelle’s shoulder, seeking the wight.
Sister Alena rolled a 19 for the ranged touch attack… 5 points of damage.
- The ball of sunlight targeted the wight in the head (22/28).
For the wight to gain enough leverage, to strike against the accursed living, it would need an opposed strength check against Tynan.
Tynan rolled a 12 (+3 Str) and the wight rolled a 20 (+1 Str).
- The joint of the two sections of spear shaft shattered, under the stress from the wight, and it allowed the creature to try and grapple Nelyssa.
Nelyssa rolled a 14 for the attack of opportunity… 11 points of damage.
- Nelyssa drove the tip of the glowing scimitar into the wights chest and it found its final death before it hit the muddy ground (33/28).
- The pounding on the shield stopped and Tavelle could hear the wights retreat back down the tunnel. Nelyssa grabbed the handle, within the interior of the shield, and the paladin lifted it from where it was hanging. Tynan was holding the broken pieces of his spear, “The bastard broke me spear!”, he complained loudly. Tavelle and Sister Alena flattened themselves against the rough walls of the tunnel, to allow Kinara to make her way to the paladin, “Good job”, she said to the pair as she squeezed by. Tavelle glanced at the scimitar and saw that the blade was no longer glowing.
- Nelyssa knelt down next to a half wight and studied the corpse. The paladin turned the face of the half wight towards her, and she looked up to Kinara, “I think it’s Blerrin Lardagren?”. The Rider from Peldan’s Helm nodded, “Yeah, looks like it, are you alright Lyss?”, she enquired. Nelyssa rose from the crouch and nodded to Kinara, “We need to press on”, said the paladin in a determined tone.
- Tavelle and Sister Alena shuffled past Tynan and Serrick to take their positions behind Kinara. They continued cautiously, keeping their collective wits about them, and the wizard drew his wand. Tavelle tried to get an unimpeded view down the tunnel as they pressed forwards. The tight passage turned left again and became even lower. The group shuffled some thirty feet down the claustrophobic tunnel before Nelyssa spoke aloud, “The tunnel opens up about thirty feet ahead. It looks like there’s a chamber. Stay alert!”. Tavelle caught a glimpse of the scimitar and it had started to glow. The mage started walking through water, pooled in the passage, and noted it quickly reached halfway up his shins.
- The tunnel widened to about ten feet, as they approached the larger chamber, and Tavelle gained a better view. The wizard’s silver eyes could see a small cavern, maybe thirty feet in diameter, the water obscured the floor of the chamber.
In the opposite wall of the cavern was a tunnel, with two half wights acting as bait to draw the group into the water. The two half wights were making no attempt whatsoever to hide. The water was about eighteen inches deep, and beneath the murky surface lurked two wights (6/27) (3/29) from the previous encounter, and two half wights (0/14) (0/15).
- Tavelle saw movement in a passage, on the opposite wall of the cavern, and his enhanced vision picked out two figures. The mage recognised the smaller of the two, from earlier, and raised his wand. Tavelle directed a Magic Missile at each half wight (2 charges remaining). The first streaking missile hit the larger figure (13/13) and it was knocked off of its feet. The second silvery-blue dart struck the small half wight in the chest (12/11), and it bounced off of the passage wall and onto the floor.
Jemmily and Jaffrick Lannane were granted their final deaths.
- Nelyssa raised her shield and readied her glowing blade, Kinara stood to the right of the paladin and glanced at the scimitar, “There are more wights”, stated the Rider. Nelyssa called Tynan and Serrick forwards. Tavelle and Alena fell back to accommodate them, “From the glow of the scimitar I’d say they were submerged”, called the wizard.
- Tavelle sheathed his wand, opened a pouch on his belt, and withdrew a silver piece, “Wait!”, called the mage. Nelyssa looked to the wizard and raised an eyebrow, “For what?”, asked the paladin. Tavelle cast a simple enchantment of light on the coin, and it equalled the illumination from Tynan and Serrick’s shields, “Throw this in the water, it might drive them to surface?”. Tavelle handed the silver piece to Serrick and he passed it to Kinara.
It seemed after the debacle, in the upper barrows, the day before, Tavelle's player was very concious of not being complacent. "I'd like to cast a Shield spell, I don't like the look of this at all", said Tavelle's owner.
- Kinara waited for the mage to finish casting and she flipped the glowing silver coin with her thumb, it spun upwards in an arc, before falling with a loud "Plop!" into the water.
- There was a flurry of movement as four gaunt figures broke the surface of the pool. Droplets of water were thrown into the air as the wights screeched and howled in anger. Tavelle watched Nelyssa wade forwards into the fray with her scimitar glowing thirstily, Kinara was at her side brandishing her longsword, and the two militiamen moved to support the pair.
- The four moved away from Tavelle and they waded, knee deep, through the dark water of the pool to face the oncoming wights. The wizard saw Sister Alena step behind the quartet and she called upon the Bountiful Goddess.
Sister Alena cast a Bless spell.
- The mage felt his fears and doubts fade away. Tavelle became aware of a gap, in their left flank, between the wall of the cave and Serrick, so he moved to close it. As the wizard started wading, towards the militiaman, he heard a voice behind him, "What should we do, Swordmage?", Tavelle turned to see Aulkren, Tolben and Lenthrey. The three militiamen looked at the mage expectantly.
- Tavelle looked to the entrance he had just come through. The mage considered the side tunnel, which linked to Erael's group, "Tolben and Lenthrey, cover the tunnel at our rear, if anything comes up behind us I want a warning". The two militia nodded and waded over to shine their shields down the tunnel, "Aulkren, help Tynan", advised the wizard.
- Tavelle turned back to Serrick, the fighter was struggling against a half wight. The mage gripped Anvil's Edge and struggled through the water. The half wight launched itself forwards in an attempt to grapple the militiaman.
Serrick rolled a 12 for the attack of opportunity... 8 points of damage.
The wight rolled a 5 for the grapple.
- Serrick chopped into the side of the undead horrors head (8/15) and fended off the grasping claws with his shield. The fighter thrust the longsword forwards as the half wight was pushed backwards.
Serrick rolled a 4.
- The fighter snatched at the thrust and missed completely, Tavelle moved alongside Serrick and flashed Anvil's Edge in a horizontal sweep towards the half wight.
Tavelle rolled a 17... 8 points of damage.
- The half wight crumpled from the force of the dwarven blade (16/15), the creature splashed as it fell backwards, and vanished below the surface of the pool. The wizard saw Nelyssa had felled her own foe and was now helping Kinara. Tynan had finished his opponent and moved to flank the wight. Tavelle glanced behind him to check on Tolben and Lenthrey, he saw the militiamen standing vigil at the tunnel.
- Kinara's foe was downed swiftly under the pressure of the three blades. As it slipped beneath the surface Nelyssa looked about the group, "Is everyone okay?", she asked. The party members responded individually to the paladin and it seemed an informal roll call. The tunnel leading out of the cavern was higher than the level of water. As the group waded towards it they crept up a slope until the water was at their ankles.
- Kinara allowed Nelyssa to enter the tunnel first and she proceeded to follow the paladin. Tavelle went in next and he was horrified to see the muddy corpse of a very young girl twisted in undeath. There were three scorched holes in the filthy nightdress where his Magic Missiles hit home. The wizard stared as he shuffled past the small broken form, "She might've been the owner of the bunny?", he thought with a mixture of anger and grief.
- The group paused to empty their boots of water. Nelyssa looked back to the mage and asked, "How much longer will your light hold?". Tavelle tried to give an accurate estimate, "I think we're about halfway through its duration". Nelyssa and Kinara exchanged glances before the paladin looked back to mage, "We need to keep moving whilst we still have the light".
Tavelle's owner looked a bit worried, "I've just used my one and only Light spell".
- They continued onwards, through the cramped conditions, and Nelyssa's scimitar glowed feintly all the while.
- The tunnel started to widen, it allowed Nelyssa, and Kinara, and the others following behind them, to move side by side. The wights had fallen back and retreated out of the silver radiance. Tavelle was stooped over, wand in hand, to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling, with Sister Alena next to him. The mage felt the Shield enchantment expire.
- Tavelle saw a very bright pulse of gold and orange light from down the tunnel. The mage then heard the screams and shouts of fighting begin. Nelyssa stopped and turned around, “Ready yourselves!”, she commanded. The wizard paused to cast a Mirror Image enchantment and was surrounded by five duplicate Tavelles. Once the casting was complete he unsheathed Anvil’s Edge. The hue and cry of combat resounded down the tunnel and grew louder as they approached the exit.
“It’s already kicked off then?”, asked Tavelle’s owner nervously.
- Dancing shadows were projected on the earthen walls from shifting sources of light. Tavelle saw Kinara and Nelyssa take a few steps into the cavern, they both glanced to the left, raised their shields, and braced themselves. One of the Mirror Images had wandered just behind them, the figment turned, in apparent horror, as a wight crashed through it. At least five wights slammed into the shields of the paladin of Chauntea and the fighter from Peldan’s Helm. Nelyssa’s fiercely glowing scimitar cut a wight in half, and the next slice sent another staggering. Kinara thrust her longsword forwards, over the top rim of her shield, and into the gaping mouth of Eventar the wight. The former Rider of Mistledale accepted the sword, as he could never have done in life, and slammed his talons into Kinara’s face, sending her sprawling. The mage raised his wand, to unleash a couple of Magic Missiles, but saw Tynan and Serrick move past to try and help Kinara. Tavelle heard Sister Alena call upon Chauntea, “Great Mother! Show these vile horrors your wrath!". Tavelle saw two wights who were slamming their fists on Tynan’s shield flee. He had seen the same at the Lannane farm when Nelyssa had called upon the Bountiful Goddess.
- Eventar had been shoved away from Kinara by Nelyssa, and Serrick shielded the dazed Rider. Tavelle saw movement, out of the corner of his eye, and the mage turned quickly, in response to the undead horror. The wizard wasn’t quite fast enough. The half wight was wearing the uniform of a militiaman, and had the jump on him, but didn’t seem to see Tavelle as it moved past.
Tavelle’s attack of opportunity was a 19... 6 points of damage.
- The half wight barged past him, it smashed into Tynan’s shield, Tavelle connected solidly with Anvil’s Edge and felled the undead militiaman. Another three wights converged onto the raised shields of the Mistrans and they were driven back a few feet. Tavelle was left standing alone, with four bemused duplicates, looking confused, “What in the nine hells?”, he asked aloud.
Off screen…
Obscured by the mage’s leather gloves, and tunic sleeve, the dark cloth around Tavelle’s wrist was glowing with a sickening green radiance. It revealed strange runes stitched into the fabric of the material.
- “What in the nine hells is happening? They all ignored me!”, thought Tavelle in confusion. The shouts and screams of battle echoed all around him in the chamber. The mage saw Jentar fighting a gold-crowned wight. The Mound King was wielding a glowing, silvery-blue longsword and the blade produced sweeping trails of snowflakes. The paladin of Lathander was not faring well against the monstrous wight. Jentar’s shield had been shattered and was hanging, in pieces, from its straps on his left arm. The orange radiance it had previously emitted was long gone. Tavelle could see clouds of the paladin’s breath, as he exhaled through his exertions, within the icy blades aura of cold.
Sister Alena casts a Mass Aid spell. Tavelle gains 7 temporary hit points. (0/20)
- His attention was grabbed as he heard Erael cry out in agony. Tavelle saw seven wights had managed to grapple and pin the sorceress against a rough wall. The wizard could see Erael’s grip on the Lionswrath blade was faltering as the wights were taking turns to strike heavy blows against her. The mage measured the distance, between himself and the undead horrors, and took a step towards the sorceress.
Off screen…
The strip of cloth torn from Kendra’s cloak seethed in anger… The mage was going to disrupt the invisibility to undead creatures it had been projecting… It desperately needed Tavelle’s life energy to power the return of its mistress… It seemed to the sentient item that the fool wizard was doing everything possible to get himself killed… It had to act now…
- Tavelle touched his thumbs together and started to raise his hands. A thought came to the mage as his hands cleared waist height, “Don’t do this! Get out of this place!”. The wizard felt an overwhelming compulsion to follow the advice and Tavelle fought it as hard as he could.
I asked Tavelle’s player for a DC15 Will save to shrug off the Suggestion. Tavelle’s owner looked uncomfortable, and his next words, spoken to his d20 were before rolling were, “Please don’t let me run off like a <censored>!”.
Tavelle rolled a 18 and looked rather pleased with himself.
- The wizard furrowed his brow and focussed on the wights battering Erael to counter the urge to run away. Tavelle finished the last inflection, just before his hands reached shoulder height, and a wide blast of silvery-blue flames exploded from his outstretched fingers.
“I hope I got my ranges correct”, grinned Tavelle’s player, as he gathered some d4’s together.
Tavelle rolled three d4's for 11 points of damage. Only one of the five undead creatures managed to save against the fire.
- Tavelle felt the heat from the cone of fire, he could see three wights fully ablaze (11/12) (11/13) (11/13), two others partially smouldering (21/51) (19/54), and two still holding up Erael (4/13) (10/13). Tavelle unleashed two Magic Missiles from his wand (1 charge remaining), one at each half wight holding the sorceress. The two half wights, that had been pinning Erael against the wall, were each blasted by a silvery-blue bolt (7/13) (15/13).
- One half wight released her, and stalked towards the group of mages, and the other fell to the earth. Tavelle saw Erael drop the Lionswrath blade and collapse to the ground. The two badly burned wights joined the half wight and closed on the wizards.
The half wight rolled a 6 on a d10 and it went after a duplicate. The first burned wight (21/51) rolled a 1 and targetted the flesh and blood Tavelle. The second burned wight (19/54) rolled a 10 and went for an illusionary mage.
- “Well, at least I got their attention away from Erael”, thought Tavelle, as he raised Anvil’s Edge in anticipation. The three burning half wights staggered around before dropping and lying motionless (15/12) (14/13) (13/13). A wight with wisps of smoke, slowly rising from its torso, squared off against the mage (21/51). It lunged in greedily.
The wight rolled a 6.
- Tavelle shifted his weight, side-stepped the clumsy attack, and countered with Anvils Edge.
Tavelle rolled a 5.
- The dwarven blade sliced well wide of the wight’s side. The wight hissed in response and swung a taloned fist towards the mage.Two duplicate Tavelle’s were dispelled.
The wight rolled a 18... 5 points of damage.
- The claw hit home and raked heavily across Tavelle’s collarbone (0/15). Tavelle felt his very life force start to be torn from his body. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before.
Off screen…
“Miiine!!!”, screamed the strip of cloth from Kendra’s Black Cloak.
- Tavelle felt his life energy get dragged back to him. The wight seemed to pause in total and utter bafflement. The mage gripped the sword firmly and swung at the wight. "What the hell just happened there?", thought the wizard.
The half wight rolled a 6 on a d6 and went for a duplicate wizard.
The burned wight rolled a 2 on a d6 and picked the real Tavelle.
Tavelle rolled a 19... 7 points of damage (28/51).
- Tavelle saw one of his two remaining images get dispelled by the half wight. The other burned wight started to move, to join the fight, against the wounded wizard. The wight which clawed Tavelle renewed its efforts, it would not be denied again. The wight decided it would try and grapple him to the floor. Tavelle saw the outstretched claws reach towards him and he began to reverse the cut from his previous attack. Anvil's Edge swept up and down, in a wristy slice.
Tavelle rolled a 14 for the attack of opportunity... 6 points of damage.
- Anvil's Edge drove hard into the undead creatures chest (34/51) and the wight tried to grab the wizard.
The wight rolled a 8 for the grapple attempt.
- Tavelle felt the value of his Mage Armour as it thwarted the wights embrace. He saw the other burned wight just a few feet away. A thought came to the wizard as he attacked the wight he was already engaged with, it had an almost undeniable will, "Tell it to go away!".
Tavelle rolled a 13 for the attack... 6 points of damage.
Tavelle rolled a 3 for the DC15 Will save.
- Tavelle connected firmly with the sword and drove the wight away for a split second (41/51). The mage turned and shouted in the face of the new opponent, "<censored> off!".
The wight rolled a 6 for the DC14 Will save.
The half wight rolled a 3 on a d4 and went after the last Mirror Image.
- To the wizard's surprise the wight stopped suddenly and looked almost startled. The mage was even more shocked when the wight turned tail and ran down a nearby tunnel.
"Today is all very strange", concluded Tavelle's player.
- Tavelle saw his twin, the last image, vanish at the talons of the half wight. The burned wight struck out at Tavelle instead of trying another grapple.
The wight rolled a 17... 4 points of damage.
- Tavelle had been distracted, at the thought of the half wight joining the fray, and was clawed harshly in the bicep (2/13). The pull on his life force was agony but again seemed to amount to nothing.
Off screen...
"Mine!", thought the scrap of cloth, "All mine!".
- Tavelle felt blood running down his left arm and could feel his tunic, at the collar, clinging to him. He drew Anvil's Edge behind him and flashed the blade forwards.
Tavelle rolled a 5...
- The scorched wight dodged past the cut of the sword and pressed the wizard again. The half wight closed the gap and launched an attack of its own.
The wight rolled a 16... 5 points of damage.
The half wight rolled a 1.
- The wight brought both arms up and smashed its stony forearms into Tavelle. The wizard was nearly knocked off balance by the hit (7/13). The half wight missed the mage completely, and stumbled past Tavelle, the wizard saw it had tripped over a root, and seized the moment.
Tavelle rolled a 15 for the attack of opportunity... 6 points of damage.
- Tavelle hit the half wight hard, it dropped mid-stumble, and it didn't rise (13/13). The mage stepped to strike the burned wight.
"Another twenty would be nice", said Tavelle's owner in hope.
Tavelle rolled a 16… 4 points of damage (45/51).
- Tavelle was rather light headed, he could feel the blood, from the wound in his bicep, slowly filling his glove. As he tightened the grip on the wand he felt a squelching between his fingers.
- The burned wight came at him again talons flexed.
“What’s it gonna take to kill this bastard?”, said Tavelle’s player in frustration.
The wight rolled a 10.
- Tavelle moved, just in time, to get out of the way of the swinging claws, and drove the tip of Anvil’s Edge at the undead creature.
Tavelle rolled a 13… 8 points of damage.
- The point of the blade slipped into the wights chest and the wight fell forwards limply (53/51). Tavelle shifted and pushed the motionless body off of the sword and onto the ground. The mage swooned as he saw stars in his vision.
“I think it’s time to take the potion Naema gave me”, said Tavelle’s owner in relief.
- Tavelle stuck the tip of the sword into the muddy floor, removed the small vial from his belt, uncorked the stopper, and poured the liquid down his throat.
The potion of Cure Moderate Wounds healed 9 damage (0/13).
- The potion took effect immediately. The wounds started to feel warm and tingled as the healing process started. Tavelle looked about the cavern, he saw Erael flat on her back, her chest rose and fell, “She’s alive, but out of it”, thought the mage.
“That’s why the burned wight was such a tough bastard! He’d drained Erael of so many Hit Dice”, realised Tavelle’s player.
Tavelle's player was quite correct. Between them, three of the wights managed to drain Erael of 16 levels.
- The wizard could see over a dozen wights, about forty feet away, pressing Nelyssa and her group. In one corner of the chamber, a half dozen wights were huddled and cowering. Tavelle looked towards Jentar, the paladin was on his knees in a very sorry state, his golden breastplate had been smashed, and jagged portions of it hung from the leather fastenings. His chromium blade was shattered in pieces around him and the hilt lay discarded at his feet.
Off screen…
The dark strip of cloth had used all of its available power to keep Tavelle alive. It had failed to compel and goad him into fleeing, “He’s definitely going to do something stupid”, thought the sentient item in disgust.
- The wight towered over the paladin, the high-spired, bejewelled, gold crown glinted in Tavelle’s starlit radiance. The Mound King drew back a gauntleted fist to smash the dazed Jentar. As Tavelle raised his wand to help a thought crossed his mind, “Let the paladin die!”.
The thought had come from the cloth, it had no magical compulsion attached this time. The Suggestion ability could only be used three times in any one day.
- Tavelle dismissed the strange thought, “No, he’s a swordbrother. I’ll not abandon him”, concluded the mage.
- Two glowing darts of azure and silver swooped towards the crowned wight (0 charges remaining). They streaked the thirty foot distance and were somehow drawn to a patch on the wight’s chest. The Magic Missiles appeared to be absorbed by something, on the rusted chainmail the wight was garbed in. “<censored>!”, thought the wizard. The Mound King stopped, turned in the wizard’s direction, and hissed. It growled at the mage as though it was trying to intimidate him or scare him away.
Vinjarek possessed the Daunting Presence feat and it attempted to scare the mage into inaction or flight. If Tavelle failed the save he would have to contend with being Shaken for ten minutes. I asked Tavelle’s player for a DC17 Will save.
Tavelle’s player rolled a 12.
- Satisfied the wizard had been cowed, and without giving the mage another thought, the crowned wight turned its attention back to Jentar. Tavelle raised an eyebrow, “Is that it? I’ve had worse looks from Naema”, thought the wizard. Tavelle discarded the empty wand , took a step to his left, and brought the hanging Rams Horn trinket into the palm of his hand.
Tavelle’s owner blew his cheeks out, “I hope this works”.
- The great wight brought the frosty broadsword above its head, with two hands on the hilt, and a great flurry of sparkling snowflakes fell to the ground around the pair. Tavelle opened his palm and pushed forwards. The wizard unleashed a great silver ram, which materialised in front of the mage, and it rushed in the wights direction.
The Battering Ram spell initiated a Bull Rush on Vinjarek. An opposed Strength check was required. Vinjarek rolled a 6 (+4) and Tavelle rolled a 15 (+10). Tavelle rolled a d6 for 3 points of damage.
- Tavelle watched the great silver ram charge, and smash, into the Mound King (16/78). The wight doubled over the large curled horns, and was carried fifteen feet, before a cavern wall provided an abrupt stop. There was a loud crunch, as the wight collided with the wall, and the fierce impact dislodged the gold crown from its head. Tavelle grasped the sword hilt, plucked it free, and readied Anvil’s Edge, “Have that ya bastard!”, shouted the wizard.
Tavelle’s player was grinning from ear to ear, “That’s it! I can die happy!”.
- The Mound King was slumped, in a heap, and Tavelle looked towards Jentar. The paladin had collapsed forward, onto his stomach, and was trying to crawl somewhere. Tavelle looked to his right, he saw Nelyssa’s glowing scimitar flash forwards from behind a wall of shields, and send a wight to its final death.
- Tavelle’s gaze returned to the Mound King. The monstrous wight was clambering to its feet, the silver blade in hand and shedding snowflakes, it reached out a rusted gauntlet to retrieve its gold crown. The wizard raised his left hand, palm facing the wight, and drew upon the latent power of the silver radiance, “After this I’m out of magic”, thought Tavelle.
Tavelle rolled a 15 for the Ranged Touch Attack… 10 points of damage.
- The ray of positive energy struck the wight in the shoulder (26/78). Tavelle heard the Mound King howl in a combination of pain and anger. The great wight snarled and stalked towards the source of its annoyance… It would shatter the blade and feast on the wielder…
- The mage assumed an En Garde stance and gave a weak grin, “I think it’s safe to assume I’ve angered it enough to get its undivided attention?”, thought Tavelle. The wizard brought Anvil’s Edge up in front of him and the Mound King seemed to swing at the blade. The dwarven sword was nearly wrenched free of Tavelle’s grasp with the shuddering impact generated by the clash of weapons. Tavelle couldn’t believe the strength of the wight king, “It’s stronger than Brondar!”, thought the mage in horror. The wizard brought two hands onto the hilt of Anvil’s Edge and retaliated.
Tavelle rolled a 10.
- The stroke from the sword came up short, due to the different grip, and the wight king easily maneuvered out of the way. Every breath the wizard exhaled produced billowing clouds in the dimmed silver light, “I guess I’d be a little chilly without the Endure Elements”, thought Tavelle. The great wight swung the icy broadsword down, in a vicious cut aimed directly at Anvil’s Edge. There was a sickening smash, as the two swords connected, and snowflakes were driven into Tavelle’s face. The wizard jabbed his sword forwards in a, semi-controlled, two-handed lunge.
Tavelle rolled a 17... 7 points of damage.
- The wight was clipped in the pelvis (33/78) and launched a ripping cut at the blade in Tavelle’s hands. The swords came violently together and Anvil’s Edge became cloudy with frost. By the time the wizard prepared a counterattack the mist had cleared from the shining metal.
Tavelle rolled a 9.
- The wizard swung at thin air and then span to get back into a defensive position. Another blow smashed into Anvil’s Edge and it left the wizard’s ears ringing.
- “My hands are nearly numb from the force of his blows! He’s so damn strong!”, thought the wizard. Tavelle clenched his teeth in determination and tightened his two-handed grip on the sword. Another sweeping overhead chop came down onto Anvils’s Edge and snow trailed after the arc of the weapon. Tavelle felt the power from the stroke, from his fingers to his toes, and it nearly drove him to his knees, “Where is Derim? What if he found a dead end?”, thought the mage in desperation. The wizard glanced at the fallen form of the sorceress, “Hang in there”, he thought to himself. Tavelle felt the wetness of melting ice crystals on his face, and in his hair, “Keep on trying to shatter my blade, you undead bastard, I need to keep you occupied”, thought the mage.
- The wizard was momentarily distracted by a flare of bright orange light to his right… It was as almost as if the sun was rising within the cavern…
- Tavelle glanced towards the source of the orange radiance. It was as bright as the Light of Lunia surrounding the wizard. Tavelle saw Jentar struggling to rise. In his right hand was the Lionswrath blade and the longsword was limned in rippling orange and scarlet flames.
“Oh <censored>!”, said Tavelle’s owner in horror.
- The mage saw the crossguard transform and shift into wings. The blade of the sword changed from a dull grey to a shining metal with a rose tint. The wobbly, badly wounded, paladin attempted to stand. Tavelle’s eyes shot back to his foe, the Mound King, and he saw that the powerful wight had been similarly distracted. Tavelle didn’t hesitate at the opportunity to take a swipe at the crowned wight, “For Mistledale!”, he said under his breath. The mage still had two hands on the hilt of Anvil’s Edge and he brought the sword behind him to gain some momentum. The silvery blade flashed forwards, in a slicing double forehand, and the wizard stepped into the strike to add more weight.
Tavelle rolled a 15... 3 points of damage
- The wight had started turning back, to face the mage, just as Anvil’s Edge connected solidly and tore into the Mound King’s shoulder (36/78). Tavelle nearly lost his grip on the hilt as the wight reacted to the heavy hit by aiming a backhanded swing, with its fist encased in a rusted gauntlet.
Vinjarek rolled a 3.
- The mage barely ducked under the attack and was forced backwards in a partial retreat. Tavelle saw two wights, in the periphery of his vision, burst into golden flames, and he heard the voice of Derim Whiteshield, “Witness the wrath of the Great Mother!”, shouted the priest.
- A sense of relief washed over the mage and he saw other wights engulfed in flames. Tavelle gave a grin to the king of the wights, “Chauntea has arrived!”, he proclaimed. At the same time as the wizard spoke the words the Mound King was already drawing the icy blade into a vicious cut towards Tavelle.
Vinjarek rolled a 17... 16 points of damage.
- The frosty blade whipped in from a low angle gaining speed, it struck Tavelle in the left pelvis, and the biting arc continued all the way to the mage’s right shoulder. Tavelle felt the blade shear and slice across his torso. A succession of ribs shattered and the pain seared through him. The mage saw a scattered cloud of glittering crimson rubies. The scarlet gems tumbled, sparkled, and collided amidst the silvery radiance…
- Tavelle was lifted from his feet, such was the power of the attack, and started falling backwards into darkness.
“<censored>!”, said Tavelle’s owner.
|
Edited by - Farrel on 01 Jun 2015 22:30:27 |
|
|
|
Thorn Illance
Seeker
53 Posts |
Posted - 12 Jul 2014 : 03:16:31
|
Four years I've followed Tavelle's adventures.
Hammers High, Tavelle! I'm pouring one out fot you. |
|
|
|
Dalor Darden
Great Reader
USA
4211 Posts |
Posted - 12 Jul 2014 : 07:06:58
|
It is an awesome adventure eh Thorn!
I've been reading for some time now myself...and I'm always excited to see a new post! |
The Old Grey Box and AD&D for me! |
|
|
|
Topic |
|
|
|
Mistledale Campaign: The Bloodied Tower
