# the Jester's OLD story hour, UPDATED AT LAST!



## the Jester (Jul 25, 2002)

For quite some time now I've been considering writing some of this stuff up for your enjoyment and digestion... To this end I hereby present the humble beginnings of a story hour set in Cydra, my campaign world... hope you all enjoy it!  I'm starting back about ten games, so I'm sure I'll miss some of the details and get some of the rest wrong, but hopefully I'll get enough right to give you a taste of our gaming style and my campaign world.

To begin with, let me introduce our Heroes (or villains, as the case may be...)

First we have CLAMBAKE, subsequently Captain Clambake, but that comes a little later... This fellow is a dwarven cleric/psion who likes to throw his shield (emblazoned with his symbol, a clam) as a weapon.  Like most dwarves, he is gruff, loves to drink and is fond of money. 

Next is SITH, an orc from far-away Valonia.  Sith is a currently CE (previously NE but magicall changed; later to change again) wizard with two levels of fighter.  He fights with the spiked chain, likes to break pretty things, and is one of the party's powerhouses.

HORBIN THE HOLY is a cleric of Dexter, the Jesus-figure in the religion of Galador, the LG sun god.  He is increasingly uncomfortable with the paths the party is choosing and is trying to save them from themselves.  Horbin is CG.

MILOSH, a halfling who lived among orcs in disguise as first a gnome and then an orc.  Unbeknownst to the rest of the party, Milosh was a halfling spy... but now the party is far from Valonia, on an entirely different continent, and Milosh's twin brother recently has recently died.  Milosh is a sorcerer with two levels of rogue, shooting for the Eldritch Master prestige class.

Another of the party's halflings is VITO STEALYOURSTONE, a man with "connections and friends in powerful places" who's always offering to "do a favor" for people, and is always interested in making a profit.

The dwarf KRUNKSHANK is also travelling with the party, seeking to learn from Anvar, an elementalist npc of significant power that the party is with after succumbing to a geas to find him.

*Note: elementalist is a base class imc; think of a cleric with better weapons and more powerful spells in a single element.  The real drawback is that any time an elementalist channels a spell they have to save against their own DC for that spell or suffer subdual damage!  Elementalist spells are based on con and the whole thing is somewhat derived from the PO:S&M book's channelling system (2nd ed.)

And of course, there's Anvar: a master of earth and fire, he's learned to tap into the paraelement of magma as well (through the paraelementalist prestige class).  

NOTE: The following post has some spoiler on Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil in it, but very much adapted to my campaign world.  This is only in the What Has Gone Before section, so don't worry about it too much; but if you're playing the module, you might want to skip down to the next post.  I'll keep all the spoilers in this one.







WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE:
The party, originally from Valonia (the continent ruled by the orcs) agreed to a geas to find Anvar, a missing apprentice who was allegedly last seen on the continent of Dorhaus, to which they travelled through something called an earthgate, which seemed to be a cave about  2000' long connecting the two places.  After some investigations, the party learned he was investigating the Temple of Elemental Evil.  In fact, it seemed likely that he was working with it!  They tracked evil cultists to the Crater Ridge Mines and made a brief foray inside, but were spanked by the defenders.  Regrouping and rethinking their tactics, the group decided that since they couldn't beat them, they'd join them.  After being assigned to guard duty for weeks, they were sent (along with Wormspike the ogre) to investigate a possible candidate for the Champion of Elemental Evil.  Though Wormspike died along the way, the party brought the raving Lareth to the temple, where he proved indeed to be the prophesized Champion.  After another few weeks, they were at last told where to find Anvar: at the ruined Temple itself, helping begin the excavation of it.

At the ruins the party was forced to carry rocks for a day by a cruel beholder, then were finally allowed to meet with Anvar, a handsome, dark-skinned human man in mithral fullplate decorated with images of stalagmites and stalactites, gypsum flowers, crystals, etc. forged by dao.  They told Anvar that his old master was concerned about him.  The elementalist told the beholder that he'd be back after he'd settled the old man's fears, and the party left to escort him back to his master and finally end the geas.

But once away from the Temple, Anvar turned out to be seriously worried about the consequences of reactivating something called the "Nodes" in the temple, claiming that it could disrupt the elemental gates, such as the one the party came to Dorhaus through...


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## the Jester (Jul 25, 2002)

*Trying to go home*

STILL WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE BUT NO MORE SPOILERS FOR THE TEMPLE:


The party reaches the site of the earthgate that leads to the continent Anvar's master is on.  They must inform him that he is with them if they are to be free of their geas.  But instead of a 2000' long dry cave, they find it full of water, and the surrounding area looks as if it were exposed to a strong gusher for some time.  There is a great deal of erosion and the caves have expanded.  The party descends to check out the situation and is beset by sharks!  They are in an area of water that varies in depth (the floor is extremely uneven); some areas, where water action was especially violent, are up to 25' deep, while others are only knee deep but are filled with a sucking mud.  The party fights as best they can, disadvantaged by the environment; it takes them only a few moments to slay the sharks, but moments later they are attacked by another shark and two powerful sahuagin!  Defeating them wears the group down, and they decide to retreat for the moment. 

A grim Anvar tells them that the earthgate likely won't take them where they want to go anymore.  "That was linked to a seagate, at least for a while," he says.  "There's no telling where it would take us."

The party discusses their options, and eventually decide to head north to Var, where they hope to be able to find some sort of magical aid.  After camping, they move north.  Anvar claims to know of an underground river that will speed their passage, but they must travel a few weeks to reach it.  As they go, they grumble collectively both about the geas that keeps them bound to this stupid task and about this rotten ugly continent.

Dorhaus is a rough place.  For over a century a terrible evil creature named Fuligin held sway, summoning demon and devil hordes and telling them to kill all that was not evil- "Plant, animal, human, whatever; if it isn't evil, kill it."  When he was finally destroyed the continent was immediately tended by many powerful groups, most notably the druids.  Now there are small trees scattered around, much more life; but still, many monsters run rampant and friendly faces are few.  The party encounters many monsters, and it is during this part of the journey that Krunkshank and Clambake join the party after the friendly-fire death of two pcs (one of whom was Milosh's twin brother).

And it is here that our story truly picks up...



The party never reaches Anvar's underground river; instead, as they are tromping into the Clay Hills, Milosh hears the sounds of a party.  The group immediately moves to investigate, and atop a hill they find a feasting group of faeries.  They are drawn in to the party, and one by one they succumb to it's fun and joy.  There is much singing and dancing, drinking and eating of the fae food going on.  Strange mushrooms are handed out; pipes smoking some purple weed circulate.  Why, what fun!  There are beauteous faerie females dancing nude or leaf-clothed to distract the eye, strange, delicious perfumes to attract the nose.

Clambake drinks happily but eats nothing.  He meets a gregarious satyr named Bear, hairy and naked, showing his arousal when he eyes the ladies, and the two discuss the various charms of the females around until Bear says he needs to go "meet someone" and rushes into the dance, whirling up a fine-looking dryad (who giggles) and sprinting off with her into the bushes.

Sith is approached by Woodrue, a large, stern treant.  "I don't like orcs," he rumbles.

"I, ah, don't want any trouble," mutters Sith.  He's already extremely high from various faerie drugs.

"YOU STAY OUT OF TROUBLE," booms Woodrue.  "I'm watching you."

Brownie servants run everywhere, filling cups with wine or nectar.  There's even a unicorn present.  Sith stays out of trouble, and it seems like the party could go on forever!  No one manages to wonder how long they've been there.  The singing and dancing never gets old...


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## the Jester (Jul 25, 2002)

*The Fairy Avengers*

The party is trapped in Faerieland, having been caught by the party.  By now they've all failed at least one Will save and don't think of anything but the fun they're having: not going home, not how long have we been here, and certainly not the geas on them...

But the geas doesn't forget them.  This may be the only time a party has ever been _saved_ by a geas.  Because all of a sudden they all shudder as pain wracks them, except for the new party members, Krunkshank and Clambake.  "Ow!" yells Milosh, and a bleary-eyed pixie looks up at him with a question on his face, but unfortunately for Milosh the pixie's invisible, and nothing prods him any further.  The pain goes away and he goes back to drinking and dancing.

Sith, twitching from the damage he just took, tries to figure out what that was and makes a successful Spellcraft check.  With a start he remembers the geas!  "If we don't leave her, we'll die," he mutters to himself, and rises shakily from where he's sitting.  He takes one last drink, and his brow furrows: someone put salt in it!  Ah, well...

He staggers over to his companions, and though it takes a while he manages to drag them all away from the party.  But the landscape around them is far different from where they came from.  After a moment's debate, they decide to go back to the party and see if anyone can tell them how to get out.

"Why would you want to leave?" asks one faerie.  The adventurers explain why they want to leave but the faeries are too busy partying to really help them.  Finally, they get a piece of advice: "Just go through a faerie circle, stupid!"

So the party sets out, descending from the hills, hoping to stumble upon a faerie circle and not even knowing exactly what it is they seek.  Milosh and Sith make an arrangement to look out for one another; Milosh feels much less secure about things since his brother's death.

Suddenly- an ambush!  Without warning a javelin comes flying, and suddenly it's a lightning bolt, and the party is under attack!  A fireball blasts into them before they can react.  With a laugh that stuns half the party a korred emerges, flying into a rage and screaming in thickly-Scottish accented Sylvan that none of the party understands.  This is ZWEITER.  Following on his heels comes HUMBOLDT, a fey elf enchanter, already hasted, he tosses a Bonebreak spell at Milosh, snapping his ribs.  Rounding out the trio of fairy avengers is CROWLEIGH, a fungus fairy rogue the party encountered back when they were 2nd level- and they killed his family.  Now he's back for revenge, and he's 5th level to boot!  

The battle is joined, with Milosh throwing a lightning bolt at every opportunity, gritting his teeth against the pain of his grating ribs.  Horbin rushes in to help heal him.  Anvar summons forth a lava blade; Clambake goes toe to toe with Zweiter while the sorcerous duel between Milosh and Humboldt resolves: Milosh resists being held and finishes his low-hp foe with another lightning bolt.  Crowleigh evades a fireball from Sith but can't sneak attack any more; if he tries to flank Zweiter he'll be flanked himself by Milosh!  Zweiter is now under attack by both Clambake and Anvar.  Crowleigh knows he's in trouble now and tries to escape, but another round of area-effect blasts from Sith combined with a volley of magic missiles from Milosh finishes him off.  Then the party moves to help the faltering Clambake take out Zweiter, and the fight is over.

Exhausted, the party slumps down to heal, then loots the bodies.  There's a bit of good loot there, including wands of haste and fireball and a pair of everyone's favorite, boots of striding and springing, which the party identifies later on.  Then they shoulder their packs and move on, eventually (it's hard to tell how long things take here) finding a circle of mushrooms.  When they walk through it nothing changes visibly but the air feels different somehow and they know they've emerged from Faerieland.

But where are they?


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## the Jester (Jul 25, 2002)

*The City of Var*

Having emerged from Faerieland the party tries to get their bearings.  Milosh casts alter self and Sith casts fly; they rise up to get an idea of where they are and see low mountains to the south, thick forest north.  None of them really want to go into thick forest here; most of the thick forest they've seen recently has been fae woods.  Dorhaus' trees were mostly burnt down years ago by demonic forces led by a man (?) named Fuligin, now slain; but the scars of his occupation remain.  South it is, then.  

A few days pass as they move as quickly as possibly across a series of low mountains.  Soon they find themselves descending towards a city.  As they come closer, though, they find that the city's outlying areas are ruins.  More signs of Fuligin!  But the central area sports a great number of rebuilt and new buildings, and it seems to be a thriving city with a thin population.  There are some humans but most of the locals are half-elves, with a great number of gnomes and elves as well.  In fact, the king is a gnome and the queen is a half-elf; he's another old pc, but I digress.

Anvar insists on warning the local authorities about the activity in the Temple of Elemental Evil and the surrounding areas.  The party decides to seek out someone capable of magically informing Anvar's master of his location and condition, thereby breaking the geas that they've been travelling under at last.  The party members each have their own in-town agendas for shopping and the like as well, of course.

Anvar informs one Captain Mellifleur of the Elemental Evil activities and it is clear she will pass word on to the King; he is one of the adventurers who originally overthrew it, after all!  Furthermore, she offers a substantial reward to Anvar if he should destroy the evil cult this time, and makes it clear that the offer includes his allies.

Horbin informs the local Dextrites of the renewed activity at the Temple of Elemental Evil.  He is a cleric of Dexter.  Dexter is one of the major religions of the campaign, in fact probably the single largest one; it is part of a "monotheistic" system that venerates Galador (the Light), Dexter (his blind son) and Prayzose (Dexter's descendant, the missing Emperor of Forinthia).  His church gives him a holy mace to help overthrow the temple.

The more chaotic members of the party, exploring Var, find it a haven of free religion.  It seems that King Malford issued a religious amnesty a few years ago, and since then many lesser-known cults and faiths have established shrines or temples in his capitol.  Indeed, they find a shrine to Na'Rat, the diety of Clambake, an old god known as the Lord of Changes and the Chaos-Bringer!  Within the shrine is a large obelisk and an unctuous man named Xath.  "Greetings!" he cries out.  "Please, come within!"  Clambake and he exchange greetings; as fellow clergy of a very rare (but rapidly resurging) religion, they have much to speak of.  Milosh and Sith peer curiously at the large black obelisk.

Vito takes the time to look in on some "business associates" in town.  He speaks with Mylkacock, a halfling "friend" of his.

Krunkshank spends time at a local shrine to the elements, created (it is said) by the L, also called Lester or simply the Elementalist.  The L was one of King Malford's adventuring companions, but apparently he has a reputation as a scoundrel; he's been in jail in another country before.  He's not in evidence in the town, unfortunately; he's a legendary figure to elementalists everywhere, the elementalist who destroyed another branch of the church (the Temple of Elemental Evil).

Meanwhile, at the Temple of Na'Rat, things have suddenly changed.  Xath asked if they wished to feel the touch of Na'Rat; they both agreed, and touched the obelisk... and gained chaos attributes.  Milosh's charisma suddenly rose, a great benefit for a sorcerer like him, and Clambake spontaneously adopted a battle cry: "For the Old Ones!"  Milosh, still uncertain of what to do with himself since his brother's death, touches it again... and turns into a mindless ooze on the ground.  Shocked, Clambake steps away.  Xath smiles beneficiently and says, "Change comes in many forms, brother."

The ooze reaches out and touched the obelisk again... and again... and again...

Eventually, the ooze changes into an outsider and regains intelligence, but it has also grown feathers, gained the cold subtype, an extradimensional space up his butt (the entrance to which can be quite large thanks to his alter self spell), a complex symbol, a battle cry of his own, a new name (Spukoni) which he can't speak himself, and quite a few other chaos attributes... but he actually came out all right.  I was amazed.  

*My chaos chart involves a roll of 1d400, and I try to keep on increasing the number of things on it. 

At that point, with the pcs still reasonably intact, they leave the shrine, knowing they got lucky.

Shopping ensues... Spukoni buys a pearl of the sirines, Vito a stone of alarm.  They discuss what to do next.  Anvar tells them about the reward if they overthrow the Temple and a debate breaks out.  They worked for them for a while, they know what they'd be up against... and it would be ugly.  But the rewards are potentially great- and otherwise, they'll have to take a ship home, which means marching to the nearest coastal city, finding a boat and sailing for months.  It's very unlikely that anyone could teleport them that far, either.

*In my game, due to the sheer size of my world, I limit teleport to 100 miles/level, teleport w/o error to 500 miles/level, and... er... succor, whatever it's called these days, to 1000 miles/level.

Anvar announces that he intends to make for the Temple regardless of what the rest of the party decides to do.  Krunkshank stands with him as he can learn so much from him, and the party decides to head back as a group- although since the party is almost entirely chaotic, this unity likely won't last long.  They sleep for the night and make ready to leave once they tidy up a few pieces of business.

A few days of hard drinking and waiting on things to be finished crafting and the like later, the party rides out of Var mounted on garen, zebra-like animals that come in two colors of green, brown and yellow.  They make good time that first day, and by nightfall they stop to make camp, cook dinner and rest.

It's at this point that it behooves me to point out that, typically, the party sleeps in a rope trick that Milosh casts.  As a sorcerer he can cast it all day long, if he desires.  They time the watches so that they wake him up before it expires, clamber down and cast another one.

Tonight, they all climb up one by one.  Milosh is last.  And as he enters the rope trick...

A sudden flash of grey white light, dizzying, disorienting!  

A sensation of motion, tumbling, falling!

A blur of silvery grey all around, in every direction... floating in space...

"What just happened?" whispers Krunkshank.

Nobody speaks up.  They just kind of float there in a silvery void, with nothing visible anywhere... in any direction.

"Where are we?" Clambake asks.

"Uh- " says Milosh, "maybe the astral plane?"  He puts on his innocent face.

"How could that have happened?" asks Sith.

"Maybe my rope trick malfunctioned..." Milosh says.  

He really doesn't want to explain about his extradimensional space....


[edited to put in Horbin's bit]


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## the Jester (Jul 26, 2002)

*On the ass-tral plane*

All around is a silvery void shot through with fuzzy grey streamers of cloudy ectoplasm.  The group floats in space, not knowing what's happened.

It takes some time for them to figure out how to move, but finally Clambake determines that thinking onesself in a direction is all it takes.  Somehow Horbin doesn't quite catch this and ties himself to Sith with a rope.  The party then briefly debates which way to go; as has been their clarion call for months, they decide to go "Left to live" and start in a seemingly leftward direction.  

Time stretches to an eternity as they move, trying to find their way.... anywhere.  Anvar declares that he's worried about the goings-on at the Temple.  Horbin wonders what happened to send them here.

"Well," Spukoni squeaks cautiously, "I hear that it's bad to make a rope trick inside another rope trick."

"Is that what happened?" Horbin asks.

"Er, maybe something like that," Spukoni answers cautiously.  All thought of his dead twin brother has been left behind now; he has become a completely different being now.  Frost comes from his mouth with every breath.  His left arm is a whip now.  Chaos has touched him, and one of the many changes it has wrought is that he can "gift" others with its touch. 

The silver void around them goes on and on and on, never seeming to end.  Finally, the party spots something far away in the distance, a tiny speck against the uniformly grey mist.  Cautiously, loosing weapons and preparing spells, they veer toward it.  About this time they determine that magic flows quickly and easily here, and that spells are quickened.

The writhing shape comes closer, resolving into some sort of worm shape.  As it nears they can hear a bizarre singing coming from it, and as it gets closer still they can see its shape: a long, gyrating worm with mouths all over it, singing a strange song!  Faces seem to be pressing out from within all over the strange monster.

"I don't like this," mutters Spukoni, knowing he now also smells yummy to monsters, and casts a shield spell.  Clambake casts a shield of faith around himself, and then a fireball bursts around the party!  With cries of pain they try to seperate.  Spukoni draws forth a wand, rocketing away from the party.  Frantically, Horbin unties the rope holding him to Sith.  Clambake moves forward to engage the singing worm-creature, but before he reaches it it doubles, triples, and suddenly there are eight shimmering worms, dancing and shifting, trading places... and they rush forward and bite Clambake as one!  Worse, it tries to swallow him!  He struggles against its mighty strength...

Sith's orcish face twists in a sneer as he casts a quick series of defensive magicks, first displacing himself and then hasting himself, moving quickly towards the worm thing.  Horbin, having still not gotten the hang of moving, assumes a total defense posture, screaming out, "How do you move???"  Clambake has the hang of it, though, and manages to shoot past the monster, out of its immediate reach.

Then a pair of lightning bolts zard from Spukoni in rapid succession.  The creature rocks with pain as bits of its substance are blasted free, but it still continues its song, casting a pair of spells, one to protect it and one to pepper Spukoni with magic missiles.  Unfortunately for the monster, he has a shield spell up; the missiles deflect harmlessly.  Then Sith moves in, first returning the magic missile favor and dropping four of the mirror images, then launching a fireball at it.  And, finally, the singing stops.

The party gathers together and gives Horbin a quick flying lesson.  Once he's finally gotten the hang of it, they proceed on their way, shaken by the strange monster and it's strange song:

We are many (snap)
We are one
Now we live (snap)
Never done
Sing of days (snap)
Sing of night
Long to sing (snap)
Show our might

Join us in eternal song (snap)
Live with us forever strong (snap)
Our choir seeks more of your kind (snap)
Our power grows with each new mind (snap)

Disturbing, and worse, it sounded as though the chorus of voices within the worm was perfectly happy with their fates.  "I'm just glad I'm not one of them now!" Clambake says forcefully.

Anvar says that with the right material component he could plane shift the party away, but he needs a tuning fork of the right material and note- and he only knows the proper notes for two of the elemental planes, not their home.  Krunkshank nods to himself, thinking: Someday I'll be that powerful.  The party discusses time: how long have they been here?  They really can't tell with no reference point to judge by.  They are neither tired nor hungry.  

They continue on their way.  After an indeterminate amount of time they see another speck on the far horizon, but it turns out to be just a rock.  Krunkshank points out that they have no way of knowing if they're actually going in a straight line, but there's not really anything they can do about it so they keep going in (they hope) the same direction.

Another speck appears on the horizon, and this time as they approach they find it is another humanoid creature.  It looks like an elf, but above its pale face are a pair of small horns.  Her eyes glow red and her tongue is slightly forked.  Cautiously, the party parlays with the half-fiend.  Her name, it turns out, is Dina; she's on her way to the Material Plane herself and agrees to guide and accompany the party.  "The place we're going is guarded," she warns, though claims to be unsure by exactly what.

The party keeps traveling.  The arcane casters are somewhat worried by the fact that they haven't been able to rest and recoup their spells, but Clambake calls on his mastery of time and the group takes a nap, trusting Dina to watch over them.  A few hours of rest and spell preperation later, they move on.

Again, an eternity seems to pass in the silver void, but finally- moving through a region that seems denser in color, darker and harder to see through, the party spots what is clearly a group of creatures in the distance.  Spukoni, more than a little paranoid, shields himself immediately, moving forward.  Taking advantage of the plane's properties, Clambake casts both shield of faith and protection from evil.  Dina readies her bow, just in case.  And then- one of the figures fires a bow at the approaching Spukoni!  Though it misses, it starts the battle.  Sith pulls his wand and hastes himself with it, then draws out his spiked chain, grinning in anticipation of bloodshed.  Clambake starts moving forward, trying to detect psionics.  Horbin moves up as well, trying to detect evil, and draws forth his shining holy mace.

As battle is joined, the party realizes what the figures are: a party of githyanki....


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## the Jester (Aug 6, 2002)

Spukoni moved in rapidly, but even so kept to a defensive posture.  The gith moved forward as well.  As the two groups closed, Clambake shot off at an angle to keep the party from being fireball-bait.  Then one of the githyanki, a tall evoker iin a striking tall hat named ZIKKIKU, tossed a magic missile at Sith, but it was absorbed harmlessly by his brooch of shielding.  JUS’KINEKKE, a githyanki female whose bony body was accentuated by her slinky clothes, unleashed a burst of pure psionic force, buffeting the rapidly closing Spukoni, and pulled out her dagger.  And then their leader, GITH’RASHIMON, attacked, bearing a sword like liquid silver that flowed and flashed as he moved forward, slamming Spukoni with it, driving the chaos-tainted sorcerer back.  CHEN’DRAKAR, another female githyanki, charged forward to engage Sith, swinging her greatsword madly.  It connected brutally, spinning Sith about and spraying crimson blood in the silvery astral space.  Dina maneuvered for space and time, trying not to get too close to the foe.

Seeing Zikkiku casting spells, Clambake rushed through the silver towards him.  Meanwhile, grunting in pain, Sith concentrated and cast a spell- improved invisibility!  As the disgruntled Chen’Drakar spat curses in her own tongue, the hasted orcish necromancer swigged a healing potion and then readied an attack for Chen’Drakar’s movement.  Soon enough, the gith provoked it- and in a smash of blood and bone from Sith’s eldritch spiked chain, she dropped.

Meanwhile, Zikkiku moved in to intercept Clambake, throwing a spell that none of the heroes had seen before, trying to baffle his mind.  That failing, the githyanki evoker then unleashed a Shout in the hopes of stunning the onrushing Clambake but only deafened him.  Meanwhile, the finale githyanki, KETHRIJAH, began frothing in a rage, charging towards the party. 

Spukoni, badly threatened by Gith’Rashimon, jetted backwards, taking an attack of opportunity (which smashed into him), then hasted himself... then, revealing another of his chaos-traits, he shifted to his many-tentacled pseudonatural form!  Finally, he blasted a lightning bolt out, tagging Gith’Rashimon square in the chest.  Jus’Kinekke unleashed another concussion at Spukoni while Gith’Rashimon charged him again, but this time he missed.  

While Dina and Anvar continued to maneuver for position, Horbin, still awkward in the astral medium, clumsily moved in.  Seeing him on his own, the howling githyanki barbarian veered to charge at him.  “Dexter!” he breathed, starting to sweat.  Clambake, using his signature move, threw his magical shield at Gith’Rashimon- and scored a crit!  The blackguard fell with a groan, his silver sword dropping from his dead fingers.

Two githyanki had fallen, but three remained and the party’s resources were becoming strained.  Sith struck Jus’Kinekke and Kethrijah, hitting both and dropping neither- and a moment later found himself nearly trapped inside a resilient sphere cast by Zikkigak.  Only his quick reflexes managed to save him.

But by then, both Dina and Anvar were in position too.  Between her bow and his fireballs, the battle was soon ended, though Kethrijah did manage to get in another good strike on Horbin with another charge.  Clambake’s inflict light wounds on Zikkiku was the last blow, and then the field of battle was silent.

“This plane sucks,” said Clambake.  There was a general chorus of agreement.

“Well,” said Dina, “we’re getting closer to the color pool we need.”

Before continuing on, the group elects to nap again, and to identify their loot.  Included in this, of course, is the silver sword, which- although +3 according to their identifying magic- none of them really want.  Finally, Spukoni takes it and, as soon as nobody’s looking, he stashes it somewhere nobody would think to look (he hopes).  Also included are Zikkiku's hat of intellect +2 (Sith takes it, looking proud to appear more "wizardly"), a helm of reading languages and magic that Horbin takes, eventually discovering that it shows "subtitles" under written language, and a sphere that orbits the user like an ioun stone and provides a cover bonus to AC which Anvar ends up with.

And then the group continues towards their color pool...

[By the by, this is from game #482 of my campaign; the last game I ran- last Thursday- was #491.  So I’ve got some catching up to do!  Well, next time- still part of this game, by the way- we’ll have some mind flayers and intellect devourers, and then we’ll be on to game #483... which I called Gith’Rashimon’s Revenge.  In fact, I posted his stats a while back in a thread called Yellow Knight or something on the Homebrew Monsters board... after all, he was dead!  To use him again I had to come up with a cool template!]


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## the Jester (Aug 6, 2002)

“This place is boring,” said Krunkshank.

Still flying through the silvery void, the party chatted among themselves.  Anvar kept grumbling about the need to attack the Temple of Elemental Evil before they accomplish whatever their goal was.  Horbin, glancing at the golden radiance flowing from the holy mace given him for just that purpose, had to agree.  

“Well,” said Anvar, “I could plane shift us to the plane of Fire, but that wouldn’t much help... we’d go from lost to lost.”

The silvery clouds in the area seemed to stretch on forever, as if distance was as distorted here as time.  Eventually, however, Krunkshank piped up.  “Hey, look- something’s over there!”  Following the direction he pointed, the party decided to investigate.  Flying smoothly towards the speck on the horizon, they found themselves approaching a desolate rock several hundred yards across with some sort of tower carved into it.  Naturally the adventurers chose to enter and investigate.

Dena seemed nervous.  “There’s probably something here,” she muttered to herself.

The party approached the end of the tower, where an opening beckoned to them.  As Clambake led the way, the rest following, Dena could feel the hair pricking at the base of her neck.  She could sense something wrong, but before she could call out a warning- first one, then another wave of roiling mental force blasted down the hole at the party, leaving Dena, Krunkshank and Anvar stunned!  Gaping at the two tentacled faces peering down at him, Clambake paused to cast protection from evil and shield of faith.  Spukoni cried out, wincing from the pounding in his head, and tried to polymorph one of the illithids into a carp.  His spell failed to affect the mind flayer, and he hasted himself, knowing the party would need all the punch it could muster to deal with these monsters.  Then he tumbled through the astral medium, right between the two aberrations, coming to rest behind them!  Sith too hasted himself, and faded into improved invisibility as well.  Horbin, eager to strike down some evil, protected himself from evil and cast a shield of faith.

And then another psionic blast ripped out from the first of the illithids, but the party, somewhat prepared, all managed to resist.  The other flayer whirled through the silver-shot astral medium to face Spukoni and tried to charm him- also to no avail!  The chaos-touched feathered Spukoni whipped out with the arm that had once been a whip, striking the illithid facing him- and inflicting chaos on it.  Then he threw another polymorph at it, this time penetrating its resistance and turning it into a carp.

Clambake rushed at the monster still peering down the hole at them, missing it cleanly.  Sith, on the other hand, moved up invisibly, cast displacement and struck the monster across its squid-like chin with his spiked chain!  Horbin moved in as well, first calling upon Dexter for strength, and smashed into the evil beast with his holy mace.  The illithid squealed, stung by the touch of the Light.

The carp vanished in a halo of light, plane shifting to safety, while the remaining illithid hissed and unleashed another psionic blast.  But the foes before it were prepared, a sorcerer and clerics with strong wills.  They all resisted, though it felt as though someone was squeezing their temples in a vise.  Spukoni whipped out his sword, invoked his pseudonatural ability of true strike, and stabbed the remaining illithid viciously through its abdomen.  It staggered back, making a sound like a soaked cat threatened with a bucket of water.  But then Clambake smashed his shield into it, and it reeled again... and before it had a chance to act, the invisible Sith raked his chain across it, once, twice!  Mauve blood spilled out, bubbling in the non-gravity of astral space [remember that scene on the Klingon ship in that one Star Trek movie...?], and before the monster could respond Horbin’s searing light burnt it badly in the chest.  “For Dexter!” Horbin cried, and brought his mace down on the illithid’s head, splitting open its brain and ending its menace once and for all.

The party hastily regrouped, tending to the stunned victims.  After a minute their senses seemed to return.  Looking around, the group found themselves in some sort of chamber with two strange crystalline pillars in it.  “I think this is a library,” Dena said in a hushed voice.  “A gith library.  Or maybe... an illithid library.”  Some quick discussion and the party decided to experiment with the crystal rods while Spukoni scouted further in the strange stone edifice.

After a little messing about, Clambake found that he could access the library psionically.  Information flooded his mind, a torrent of images and voices and thoughts.  He could barely keep it contained in his head, but started searching for information on color pools or ways out of the astral plane that would take them back to Cydra (the home plane of the group).  And then a shouted warning from Spukoni caused him to jerk his head up in surprise!

Spukoni was striking at a strange creature that appeared to be a brain on legs!  As Clambake watched in horror, another one came leaping out of the tunnel Spukoni had started scouting.  The two intellect devourers clawed nastily at the party, simultaneously trying to dominate people.  Anvar detonated a flame strike, and from his position Clambake could see weapons deflecting ineffectively off the monsters, so he did the next best thing: he dove on top of one, trying to grapple it!  It yapped like a dog, scrambling to get away from him, but Sith joined his grapple, having already cast vampiric touch.  Together they managed to pin it, rolling through astral space while the rest of the party blasted at it and the other one with magic missiles, searing light, and more.  Anvar intoned a prayer to the powers of Magma and a lava blade burst into being in his hand.  Soon enough it was over, but the party, now badly depleted of resources and shaken from their encounter with deadly adversaries, decided to leave after a quick check of the library for a quicker way home.

Unfortunately for them, the closest portal to the Prime was indeed the one Dena was seeking.  

Off they went.....

Next time: Gith’Rashimon’s Revenge!


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## the Jester (Aug 19, 2002)

Our heroes continued their journey through astral space... endless, boring, deadly astral space...

Although it pretty much all looks the same, soon enough the party find themselves flying through a strange, darker grey area.  As they advance through it, they are beset by broken dreams from the thoughts of countless dreamers.  Snatches of lost opportunities intrude upon their thoughts- the lost opportunities of others.  Memories of heartbreaking events felt by others shake them, but none are overcome.

They get free of the disturbing psychic clouds, and are going to continue along when a figure bursts out after them!   Worse, they recognize it- it’s the leader of the githyanki party they battled not long ago, the blackguard whose silver sword the party now has.  Only this time, its skin is yellowed and taut across its bones, and a baleful red light burns in its eyes.  

It’s not just a githyanki blackguard, it’s an undead githyanki blackguard.

The battle is joined furiously and quickly.  “My sword,” croaks the yellow knight, “give me back my sword!”  It moves on Spukoni, attacking with a flurry of slams.  He yelps, tumbles away, blasts at it ineffectually with lightning.  Clambake throws hammers Gith’Rashimon with his shield, Anvar and Krunkshank unleash the element of fire at it, Sith unleashes his chain.  The battle lasts only a few moments, and at the end the yellow knight tries to dimension slide away.  Odds are, they’ll hear from him again... except that Horbin’s holy mace swings in an attack of opportunity and smites the undead githyanki.  With a dry crunch, he falls to the party’s combined might.

Confidence bolstered, they return to their task.  Only a few more hours pass before they see a swirl of color before them, the portal that Clambake saw in the psionic library.  

As they approach, four strange ectoplasmic whirlwinds spin towards them.  Not sure if they’re monsters, some strange astral weather or a spell effect, the adventurers naturally assume the worst.  Sith and Spukoni both haste themselves, and Spukoni starts conjuring a mount (or, as he refers to it, a shield).  Then the ectoplasmidons attack!   Ectoplasmic tentacles slam out, one grabbing Anvar.  He’s swept into its swirling mass and cries out as he whirls around helplessly, unable to act.  The same creature grabs the mount and sweeps it up, neighing helplessly.  Volleys of magic missiles shoot out from the casters while Horbin conjures up an earth elemental.  The ectoplasmidons seem formidable, smashing at the party with their long ectoplasmic tentacles.  Worse, the adventurers find that the monsters are immune to Spukoni’s lightning bolts and resistant to fire.  Though two of the creatures have been destroyed, things are growing near-desperate when Anvar breaks free from the monster that holds him and launches another fireball at point-blank range, catching both of the remaining ones in a blister of red-hot flame.  The fireball does just enough damage to overcome both of the surviving ectoplasmidons’ resistance, and both dissolve into vapors.

“Good lord,” mutters the shaken Anvar.

The party quickly travels through the portal; a moment of disorientation follows, and they find themselves in a cave, on solid ground (thank the Gods!)  They can only assume they’re on their home plane.  A short battle with huge screeching bats later, they find an exit... and find themselves looking out at an unfamiliar, but definitely home-planar, field.

Home at last!



Next time: in the Serpent's Tail, where the sailing sucks, gold ain't worth much and Sith meets other guys who really like chains!


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## the Jester (Aug 19, 2002)

A few days journey overland and the party finds themselves looking at what appears to be an interesting fortress standing tall before what is an obviously well-worn battleground.  There are no trees on the field, no grass; it shows the signs of many a recent battle.  The fortress is walled, with a moat and a symmetrical layout.  After some discussion, the party decides to send a scout in.  Sith renders himself invisible and flying, and shortly is much closer to the place than he should be.  He flies in over the walls.

The rest of the party hangs out off the field of battle and waits.  After about half an hour they notice some dust on the horizon: it looks like a large band of approaching creatures.  The party isn’t too worried just yet; they can always retreat, right?  All they have to do is wait for Sith to return.

A large red winged flying reptilian form comes out of the advancing army, which the party can’t quite make out yet, but they can tell it’s a large force.  And the dragon seems to fly over the fortress, then swoops in and breathes a huge gout of fire on the wall... leaving a few scorches on it, but not much.  It swings around for another pass, then returns to the oncoming army.

The party is now officially becoming worried about Sith.  He’s been gone about an hour, and it looks like this big-ass army coming towards the fortress he’s scouting is planning to attack it.  Not a good thing to be caught in the middle of- especially because it seems as though there are a lot of different big things in the army.  Giants, demon and angel looking things both.... what’s going on here?

Then, suddenly, a pair of humanoid frogs appears from out of nowhere!  The party reacts, scrambling for weapons, but the slaadi croak that they’re here to ask for help.

“That,” they explain, gesturing to the fortress, “is the Bastion of Law.  Every week there’s a great battle between the forces of Law and Chaos here, and there is destined to be a stalemate.  None of the forces here can swing the battle.  Only outside intervention can do that.  We want your help.  Sneak in, open the gates- and the forces of Chaos can be victorious at last!”

The slaadi depart.  The party immediately falls into a vigorous debate.  “I’m not getting involved in this,” Anvar maintains, and Krunkshank agrees.  Most of the rest are chaotic through and through, but none of them are suicidal.  Still, they’re becoming worried about Sith, and it looks like another army is marching in from the hills to the side of the fortress.  Another chaos army?  Nobody can tell just yet.  Meanwhile, the Bastion’s army of Law is also drawing up into ranks, issuing forth from the fortress.

The party’s debate is growing heated when Sith returns, visible but still flying.  He claims that the party’s best interests are served by staying out of this mess.  They decide to just watch the battle take place, and take place it does.  Angelic figures clash with each other, some serving chaos, some serving law.  Dragons, giants, humanoids of all sorts, bizarre monsters they’ve never seen- an incredible battle soon develops, with quarter neither asked for not given on either side.  The party moves a few times as it gets closer to them, and once an angel with a flying sword comes close enough to warn them to stay out of it.  They do, never stopping to wonder why Sith has urged them to do so as well.

As night falls the battle still rages, and another debate springs up among them: what to do next.  After some discussion they decide to keep heading on their way and hope to find either a waterway to follow or a town.  The group circles around the battlefield, leaving the eternal conflict behind.

Another two days' journey finds the party reaching first the coast and then a small fishing village, where they find out where they are: a chain of islands called the Serpent's Tail.  The water is shallow and full of jagged rocks; and though the party desperately wants to charter a ship to get them home, very few actual seaworthy ships come to this place.  In fact, the jagged shallows (which may indicate that this area was once subjected to some sort of massive force or disaster) pretty much preclude getting home by normal ship.  The group tries waving some gold around, but finds that prices are outrageous.  "5 gold for a beer??" Horbin exclaims... and is told that gold is common here.  

When the party asks what's more valuable, they're told... copper.

What mid-level adventurer keeps his copper anyway?

But there is one ray of hope to be found: tales of strange steel ships that used to raid the area, using strange metal bugs "as long as a man's arm" according to the local gossip.  About a year and a half ago, the raids stopped and the ships, as near as any of the locals can tell, went inactive.  Apparently, their metal hulls allowed them to sail the jagged shallows with relative impunity.  And apparently, one of the ships is nearby- inactive and ripe for the taking!

Our heroes set out, water walking thanks to Horbin's magic...


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## the Jester (Aug 19, 2002)

The steelship is the largest artificial object anyone in the group has ever seen.  It looks to be about a mile long, maybe more.  It’s only about 30’ wide on top, and there seems to be some sort of structure atop it with a gigantic pole of some sort sticking up from it.  The place shows no immediate sign of activity.

Spukoni and Sith fly over and determine that the cylinder is hollow.  Sith flies into it to begin investigating; descending, he is blasted by a spray of blistering hot steam.  Meanwhile, the rest of the party, examining the structure- perhaps some sort of forecastle?- find that it has a number of hatches, all round and metal with sphincter-style doors all around its exterior.  A brief attempt to open a couple fails; however, the party does find one open.  Within it, blocking the entrance, is a seemingly inert copper bug about 2’ long and 1’ high.  The party decides to turn their attention to another hatch, this one more upright and human sized, that seems to lead into the tall cylinder that Sith and Spukoni are examining.  In short order the party opens it and finds a metal ladder descending.  However, upon climbing down about 25’, Vito is caught unprepared by the steam blast and falls the rest of the way to the bottom, nearly dying from the impact.  

Sith and Spukoni, combining their mystical might, have reached the bottom.  There are sealed doors and hatches all over, and at first it seems that none of them will give way.  Finally, however, the wizard and sorcerer find one that opens to reveal a room whose ceiling dangles with a veritable forest of chains.  Hanging from many of these are bodies.  Blood pools on the floor seem to indicate that something hostile lives here somewhere.  Exchanging a glance, they retreat to gather the rest of the party.  Horbin has reached Vito’s form and healed him back to consciousness, calling upon the blessings of Dexter.  Still, the party is less than sure of their next course of action and decides to explore further before investigating the chain room.  Vito withdraws to the deck to lick his wounds.

The next chamber they find open is trapped, and a spray of darts greets them.  Disgruntled, the group returns to the chain room.  Cautiously, they enter.  They begin poking around when suddenly, the chains above them start dancing as if of their own accord, flailing down at the party.  Caught unprepared, the group suffers a few hits- and then more, as a human female drops halfway down, hanging from a chain and swinging a deadly-looking scarlet spiked chain that almost seems to move on its own.  Worse, another figure drops down to battle them, wrapped in chains and stinking of brimstone!  Its gaze shakes the party’s resolve and its chains lash out at Anvar as the female engages Clambake.  Battered by the chains, he disappears into the time stream (his granted power from the time domain imc).  The party tries to strike back and both elementalists flame strike the human, who still is hanging above them and wreaking havoc, but their combined spells force her to drop to the ground and swill a potion.  The heroes are about to press their attack when a quartet of small flying mechanical dragons swoops into the conflict, complicating matters considerably.  Clambake returns to the present, already having manifested psionic invisibility, and heals himself as best he can; Sith, already hasted, also fades from view and begins returning the chain attacks with his own spiked chain.  (“I see some loot I want,” he muses to himself.)

Anvar has been dragged upward into the web of chains.  Spukoni fires off a pair of lightning bolts thanks to his haste and Horbin blasts a sound burst at the swooping mechanical dragons they face; Anvar manages to free himself from the chains, dropping solidly to the steel floor.  Groaning, he tries to cast a spell on the defensive, but his concentration is shaken by the combination of his foes and his fall and he loses it instead.  Krunkshank swings his axe, growling dwarven war cries, and connects heavily with the mistress of chains.  The blow is just enough to drop her, which enrages her chain-wrapped fiendish companion.  He strikes a blow of his own at the dwarf and a critical hit brings Krunkshank almost to his knees.  The little dragons are buzzing the party, biting and snapping, taking little pieces out of them.  Then one of the little things shows another ability- a cloud of poisonous gas shoots out of its mouth.

The battle grows messier as Spukoni polymorphs Krunkshank into a gargoyle to better deal with the flyers.  Meanwhile the human’s chain seems to writhe of its own accord and seems to protect her from some of the various magical effects flying about, at least until the chain-fiend grabs it up!  With a howl, the kyton- now hasted itself from a potion- focuses its unholy rage on Horbin the holy, who is battered backwards but not bowed.

Most of the iron dragons are down by this point; Anvar has used a heat metal to defeat one, and between his lava blade and Krunkshank the gargoyle, they’ve only got one left to deal with.  Blood flies as Clambake suffers an attack of opportunity from the chain the kyton wields, interrupting his attempt at a mind blast.  But things seem well in hand to Sith, who stoops to examine the unconscious female human.  Yes, she’s still alive, so he manacles her and pulls down her pants.  A volley of magic missiles fires off overhead, striking the kyton (who’s now staggering and near death), but Sith’s too busy to pay attention.  He’s going to show that chain-wielding hussy who’s boss, that’s for sure.

The kyton finally falls, as does the last iron dragon.  Unfortunately, the fiend seems to be regenerating!  It’s moving weakly, so the group pours on the fire, hoping that it can’t recover from that kind of damage, and with a final blow from Anvar’s lava blade, it stops once and for all.  The group looks around to take stock of the situation-

“Hey!” says Spukoni, “what’s going on over there?!”

Sith doesn’t even look up... 

A few minutes later, they regroup and heal up as best they can, then decide to rest and explore more the next day, once they’ve had a chance to regain spells and get rid of some of the fatigue brought on by a hard-fought battle.  

“What the hell were they doing here anyway?” wonders Krunkshank.  It’s a question to be answered....

Next time!

When we meet Titus the clockwork master and his gear hounds for the first- but not the last- time!




We’re up to game 484, folks.  For those who are reading this (all two of you), I just the other day ran game 493.  I’m trying to catch up!  

_Is_ anyone reading this?  What do you think?  Any feedback?  Sound like fun?  I've posted a number of the monsters and stuff the party's encountered on the homebrews and house rules boards; if anyone's interested I can try to post some links.  

Heh... like I said, if anyone's even reading this...


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## the Jester (Aug 19, 2002)

The pcs rest on the top deck of the steelship, sleeping in the open sea air.  The huge hulk seems inert, but the party does not trust it.  Indeed, it seems likely that, given its size, there may be more adversaries somewhere.  The party sets watches and tries to get some rest.  While he’s on watch Spukoni attracts seagulls and polymorphs them into shriekers to serve as alarms.  He also uses his chaos touch ability on them, and soon they are not just shriekers but are instead weirdly altered shriekers.  Strangely the party rests undisturbed, and after regaining spells and the like they set out to explore some more of the strange ship.

They manage to open a hatch inside the structure that previously wouldn’t give way.  It leads to a chamber with a strange panel of holes and many long crystals, some inserted into some of the holes.  After a few head-scratching minutes during which they experiment with inserting more rods into more holes, the party looks for a way to move on, opening a small portal that Krunkshank crawls through- the space is small and tight, but he can fit on his hands and knees- and emerges from into a large chamber facing a quartet of metal hounds, growling at him.  Behind them, flanked by two large humanoid metal constructs, is a man wearing a chain shirt of fine mithral, with several more of the iron dragons roosting above him on some of the omnipresent metal beams that seem to crisscross the steelship.  

Wisely, Krunkshank, currently alone, does not launch an immediate attack.  The man greets him: “Hello.  I presume you are one of the individuals who... disposed of the chain users?”

“Uh... yeah,” the dwarf replies gruffly.

“I hope we can come to some sort of accommodation,” the human says smoothly, “or I’ll have to sic my hounds on you.  What are you doing here?”

“Uh... we just want to find a way home.”

“Really,” the human replies drolly.  “Well, this is my ship that you’re on.  Perhaps we can come to an agreement.”

Later, the party is on deck and the human emerges to “discuss” things with them.  He is still guarded by the hounds and the humanoid constructs.  He introduces himself as Titus, and after some talk the party comes to an arrangement with him.  They won’t interfere with him and in return he’ll give them a ride to somewhere in the direction of Dorhaus, the continent where the Temple of Elemental Evil is.  Anvar is once again itching to get back to it, and keeps muttering about the ongoing disruption of the elemental gates caused by the Temple’s activities.  Spukoni keeps on changing seagulls into shriekers; as a sorcerer he is in no danger of running out of polymorphs any time soon.

“Why did you have those chain guys on the ship?” Horbin wants to know, hoping that this fellow isn’t some sort of Bleak-worshiper or something.  

“A temporary alliance of convenience,” Titus answers him.  “They were helping me.  The two of them were partners.  They had information that some sort of construct from Hell is on this ship somewhere, but I haven’t seen any sign of it yet.”

Indeed, it seems that Titus has not yet mastered the ship.  He tells them that he’s nearly got it running, leaving unanswered the question of where it came from in the first place, and he gets their help loading fuel into the engines.  The panel they found before was a control panel, he tells them, and urges them not to tamper with it.  A few guilty looks ensue.  “You already did,” Titus realizes with a cry, and sprints to the chamber where he cries out again in frustration and- fear?  A few moments later, he’s undone whatever it is that the party messed up and shakes his finger at them.  “DON’T touch that!” he yells at them, and properly chagrined- and wanting to get home- they agree.

Soon enough the ship is active and starts moving through the jagged shallows of the Serpent’s Tail.  There is a horrible grinding noise, and the group fears that the hull is being rent by the choppy stones of the area; but instead, it seems to be plowing through, tearing a hole through anything in the way, breaking rocks and merely scratching the hull.

“A formidable ship,” Clambake offers. 

The party is on their way home at last!

A few days pass.  A large number of shriekers now claims the top of the boat as their home, making it hard to move or bring a light up in quiet, but Spukoni just laughs.  Several are pushed off the edge; they can’t seem to stick to the surface too well, but what they lack in staying power they make up in quantity.

Then a whale breeches next to them- an orca!- and calls out:  “Hello up there!  I wonder if you could help me...”

Next time: Marital troubles for a killer whale, or, “Hey, I’m a cleric- is this against my religion?”


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## the Jester (Aug 20, 2002)

Why could a killer whale possibly need help from a party of surface adventurers?  It’s a good question, and one the party puts to the orca right away.  

“Err, it’s kind of embarrassing,” the whale, whose name is Madriel, admits.  “I was waylaid by a group of sea trolls and they stole something from me.  There’s an air-filled cavern they’ve taken it into, and well...” He pauses to waggle his flippers.  “I don’t have legs.”

Hmm, true.

“Why not?” asks Horbin rhetorically.  After all, whales have a reputation for being honest and helpful.  Horbin’s a good guy, even if most of the party members, strictly speaking, aren’t.  And they’ve been on this ship for a while.  It’s boring- not to mention loud, what with the shriekers.  They’ve explored part of the ship in their spare time, but they keep finding sealed hatches, inactive metal bugs, and not much to do.  There’s no holodeck or anything...  About the most fun they’ve had is catching Bolfol, a halfling stowaway who had hidden aboard for some time, and playing with the chain the human mistress of chains had.  It zapped Spukoni when he picked it up, and eventually the group had determined that only Sith could really handle it with impunity- another clue as to what happened in the Bastion of Law- so he’s toyed with it, trying to figure it out.  Bolfol seems a nice enough fellow; he claims to have been the last survivor of a shipwreck and to have washed up next to the ship and climbed on it.  He’s helpful and amusing.  But that’s it.  Nothing to do but kick shriekers off the top deck.  The group has been growing snappish at each other with nothing to kill and loot. 

So, sea trolls?  Sounds like something to kill and loot!  Titus, bemused, agrees not to move the ship until their return; he doesn’t have anywhere in particular to go.  He’s learning to drive.

A water breathing spell later, most of the party, including Bolfol, prepares to descend into the water.  “You can’t miss the cave,” the whale promises.  “It’s down there and full of air.”

“What did they take from you?” Horbin asks.  Again, Madriel pauses, looking embarrassed.  

“Err... it’s kind of embarrassing...”  Pause.  “It’s, uh, sort of a, um...”  Pause.  “Well, you see, I have this lovely lady waiting for me.”  He winks.  “And the thing is, they stole, umm, something for her.”

“Well, we can’t find it if you don’t tell us what it is.”

It’s amazing to see an orca blush.  Who’d have thought it was possible?  But blush he does as he replies, “It’s sort of a... marital aid.”

The party is stunned to silence for a moment.

“It’s a, uh, a ring.  But it won’t fit you,” Madriel adds.

Laughter bursts out from the group as they realize what he’s asking.  But the killer whale just smiles a toothy but sheepish grin, since after all, these guys are gonna help him- right?

Right- except for Vito, who is a little seasick as it is and elects to stay on the ship “to make sure Titus doesn’t take off anywhere.”  

Into the water they go, bubbles rising around them as they descend into the green depths.  They swim down, moving over coral reefs, swimming through clouds of silver fish.  Deeper they go, until the only light comes from Horbin’s continual flame.  Yes, that continual flame sure helps them see...

...and helps things see them from afar.  Emerging from the darkness with dazzling flashes of light come three strange, bulbous creatures with lobster claws and a single huge eye in the center of their bodies and two eyestalks sticking up above their spherical bodies.  The party has seen a beholder before, and these are definitely some kind of beholder-kin- but aquatic!

Out of their element, the party does their best to battle the monsters.  Bolfol and Horbin are both stunned by the flashes of light, and Sith immediately discovers how difficult it is to cast spells underwater: very.  Clambake, too, makes a discovery: his mace- in fact, crushing weapons in general- sucks under water.  The water resistance makes it useless.  Bolfol, meanwhile, recovers from his stun and stabs one of the monsters in its vitals from a flanking position with Sith.  More flashes of light stun Spukoni just after he turns one of the eyes of the deep into a carp, and things are beginning to look grim when Horbin, shaking his head clear, manages to cast freedom of movement on himself.  Able to move freely, he finds his holy mace is more effective against the monsters than they would like.  Finally, the party drives off the beasties and, shaken, continues on.

Soon they see a cave entrance... can the orca’s penis ring be far behind?

Next time:  Orcas don’t have hands, either; or, “You want me to do WHAT??”


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## the Jester (Aug 20, 2002)

*The Orca's Penis-Ring*

_That was the actual title of game #486 in my campaign.  I have a battered notebook that I make a sign in sheet for each game on and take a few notes if I'm lucky.  Anyway, where were we?_

Clambake returns to the ship due to exhaustion and wounds, and also to help keep an eye of the clockwork master.  He is not at all sure he trusts this Titus just yet, and it would be unfortunate if the ship departed while they were in the middle of the ocean.  The rest of the party travels on. 

The first cave houses a lone sea troll.  As the party enters the undersea lair, he growls something none of them understand, so Sith moves to attack.  The troll snaps out a spell and the entire party starts glowing green.  Two sharks swim up to attack the heroes.  Horbin blasts them with a sound burst while Sith trades blows with the sea troll until it falls.  Horbin and Bolfol finish off the sharks and the group searches the troll.  They find some sort of algal holy symbol (the underwater equivalent of mistletoe, they deduce) but no whale marital aid, so they move on.  Now that he’s seen one, Sith polymorphs himself into a scrag himself.

The next cave entrance is shaped like a bug U, dropping down and rising again.  At the top, the characters burst into a large grotto filled with a large bubble of foul-smelling air.  They start to haul themselves out, but as they do four large hulking forms charge out of the darkness at them- sea trolls!  And the party’s caught flat-footed half in the water!

Two of the trolls leap into the water with the characters; the other two slam into Horbin and Sith; Bolfol is still underwater, and the abrupt entrance of the two trolls in a bubbling splash is his first hint that anything has gone wrong.  Fortunately, the little halfling has been keeping to the shadows, and the excited scrags don’t notice him yet.

Sith and Horbin hoist themselves out of the water and act, weathering attacks from the trolls as they do.  The holy man calls upon Dexter to save him, and one of the trolls decides to ignore him; after all, he seems weak compared to the sea troll with him.  But Sith hastes himself and then attacks for all his worth, using trollish claws and bite.  The trolls in the water, denied an opportunity to flank swimming opponents, use their long arms to snatch at their foes in the cave.  Bolfol, swimming quietly into a flanking position with Sith, goes to take a stab at one of the trolls but fumbles so badly that he drops his blade and the troll still doesn’t even know it!  Cursing silently, he creeps to the bottom of the U-shaped passage to retrieve it, then re-ascends, hoping it hasn’t taken too long or alerted the trolls to his presence.  An unmoving troll body plunges into the water past him and sinks to the bottom of the passage.

Sith is grappling body to body with a sea troll; they would be evenly matched but for the bull’s strength rippling through the polymorphed wizard.  Horbin is searching for any sign of a large ring, but the grotto has many recesses and much filth in it, including bones, troll dung, a few coins and many discarded shells, their former occupants no doubt sucked out by the trolls.  Bolfol scrambles out of the water and sticks the troll grappling Sith right in the back of the throat (he can tell them apart by Sith’s equipment) and it gurgles.  Sith breaks free from it and with a ferocious swipe of the claws drops it to the ground.

The group searches as quickly as circumstances allow, but when one of the trolls, still wounded but regenerating, emerges from the water, the group is interrupted.  They drop it and it sinks back down the drain.  After that it becomes a frantic game of search-and-strike, with Sith keeping the regenerating scrags from getting into trouble.  The ones in the air-filled part of the cave don’t seem to be regenerating, though, and the group takes heart in that.  Finally, Horbin prays for guidance and finds what they’re looking for: an enormous ring that looks to be made of a flexible kelp-like substance.  Snickering to themselves, the party leaves, making sure they don’t leave any trolls in the water and hoping they’ll stay dead.

Fifteen minutes of swimming later the group is near to the steelship and Madriel the killer whale.  He thanks them and provides them with a mouthful of pearls in gratitude.  The party is about to reboard the ship when he harrumphs and says, “Well, there’s just one more thing...”

“What’s that?” asks Horbin.

“Well, umm... you see, we orcas, we don’t have hands.”  Pause.  “Umm, I kind of, well... need help putting it on.”

Sith and Bolfol get on board the ship. 

Horbin, good guy that he is, tries to give Madriel a hand, so to speak, but there’s one problem.

“It won’t fit unless I’m, umm...”

“I don’t believe I’m doing this,” Horbin says to no one in particular, but he does.  “Think of your girlfriend,” he says to the orca.  And the cleric helps him, umm, get ready to put, er, his, you know, ring on.



That’s enough for now!

Next time: our heroes’ journey ends, but not how- or where- they wanted!  Who ends up MIA?


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## Welverin (Aug 21, 2002)

I'm reading! I said I would didn't I? Not all caught up yet, however.

Loved the chaos obelisk, but I have a couple questions regarding it. One what is Spukoni now? Still an ooze or something else? And if all that is alright what's bad?


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## Serpenteye (Aug 21, 2002)

*Re: The Orca's Penis-Ring*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *
> “I don’t believe I’m doing this,” Horbin says to no one in particular, but he does.  “Think of your girlfriend,” he says to the orca.  And the cleric helps him, umm, get ready to put, er, his, you know, ring on.
> *




Lol! 

This is one of the better storyhours I've read. You have a very natural flow in your writing, it's easy and enjoyable to read and it also has a relatively original and entertaining flavour. I've never come across the concept of extradimentional colons and orca penis rings before.


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## the Jester (Aug 21, 2002)

Hey, someone read it!!   

Glad you're enjoying it, Serpenteye, and thanks for the feedback.  If you haven't seen it, I posted the chaos charts a while back in the rules forum- that'll give you an idea of the kind of insane wackiness that can sometimes happen in my campaign.

Welverin, Spukoni is now a feathered silver outsider that animals really like, who smells yummy to monsters, who can grant chaos attributes by touch twice per day.  One of his arms is a whip.  He has DR 5/+2, some degree of SR, and has lost all his ranks in open locks (he had lots of them, too).  He can't say his own name any more, either.

Unfortunately, the player seems to have left our group due to really stupid reasons, so by the time I'm caught up with the current game time I don't know how much more of him you'll see.     Sigh... it really sort of pisses me off, but hey, what can you do...


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## Serpenteye (Aug 22, 2002)

the Jester said:
			
		

> *Hey, someone read it!!
> 
> Glad you're enjoying it, Serpenteye, and thanks for the feedback.  *




You're welcome.


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## Welverin (Aug 22, 2002)

*I found the funny!*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *Welverin, Spukoni is now a feathered silver outsider that animals really like, who smells yummy to monsters, who can grant chaos attributes by touch twice per day.  One of his arms is a whip.  He has DR 5/+2, some degree of SR, and has lost all his ranks in open locks (he had lots of them, too).  He can't say his own name any more, either*




Cool, but I'm still fuzzy on what is actually SHAPE is (I have the feeling when you say outsider you mean it as more than just a creature type). Is he an ooze (rather formless), or is he back to being rather humanoid again?

When I read what he's doing I think of the Amoeba Boys in the Powerpuff Girls, which is a funny, if inaccurate, image.

Still baffled that some one named Clambake can be so unfunny.

Anyway, good job.


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## the Jester (Aug 22, 2002)

*Re: I found the funny!*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Cool, but I'm still fuzzy on what is actually SHAPE is (I have the feeling when you say outsider you mean it as more than just a creature type). Is he an ooze (rather formless), or is he back to being rather humanoid again?
> 
> ...




He's no longer oozey.  I think he gained some height, too, so he's an overtall feathery yummy-smelling whip-armed silvery (I believe) semi-halflingish type of thing. ( Actually, interestingly, he still has the halfling subtype now that I think of it... hm, wonder how that would interact with a ranger's favored enemy?  Outsider (halfling)... hmmm...)

Clambake's humor comes from his gruff dwarfisms combined with his Captain America shield-throwing; I haven't really caught a lot of his stuff, but we played these games months ago.  He gets a fun subplot coming up here soon with the Captain Clambake thingy... but we'll get there soon enough.

And thanks for the kind words!


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## the Jester (Aug 22, 2002)

*What happens when you plug this in here?*

Here you go... the conclusion of Game #486, in which things go horribly awry for our heroes!

By the way, you ever notice how if, as a dm, you need a lever pulled, a button pushed, a door opened, a binding sundered, etc, you can really count on pcs to do it for you?

Anyway, on with the story......




The ship is fascinating to explore.  There is a lot of space in it; it’s huge, and the party has by now seen the huge boiler-like area where the crystals that fuel the ship are fed in.  In fact, they helped Titus load it up.  The control panel that they tampered with they have left alone; but one thing that has caught the party’s eyes is a single crystal control rod that is unlike the rest.  It has two prongs coming out of it rather than being shaped like a long needle.  Neither they, nor Titus, have yet seen a place to plug it in.  It’s about the biggest adventure they can find on board; there are hundreds of the copper bugs, but all are inert.

Titus remains distant, often being absent except for meal times.  He is learning his ship- trying to find out its capabilities and how to control them.  

One day, while exploring the bowels of the vessel, Sith, Bolfol and Horbin find a strange panel with two adjacent depressions in it.  Shaped differently from most of the plugs on the ship, they look tailored to the mysterious two pronged crystal control rod.  Could the mystery be solved at last?  

The three adventurers clamber up ladders, crawl through small passages, and walk through metal hallways, finally reaching the control panel.  There, on the floor in a heap of other unused control rods, is the two-pronged plug.  “Should we talk to Titus first?” Bolfol suggests.

But this is one of the times when Titus isn’t around; his gear hounds guard his inner sanctuaries, and they don’t seem to understand when people talk to them.  The three have no way to reach him.

“Oh well,” Sith says cheerfully.  “We tried.”

The three adventurers, demonstrating their collective wisdom, take the mysterious two-pronged crystal control rod back down to the chamber with the panel with the plug it looks like is made for it.  The walls of the room are lined with a strange copper metal.  Bolfol, Sith and Horbin cluster around the panel.  Sith holds the plug, and gingerly inserts it.

Immediately, there’s a distant but LOUD noise.  And lights go on.

Lots of them.  

The orcish necromancer tries to pull it out, but the rod, once inserted, seems to be pretty set on staying put.  So he buffs himself with a bull’s strength and tries again, to no avail.

Then there’s the sound of hatches opening everywhere and sudden activity... 

The bugs have animated.

The party bursts into action.  A door seals them in with a hiss.  Over a dozen of the little bugs are pouring in to the chamber with them.  Most are copper but one is gold and several are silver.  There is the smell of ozone as the gold one fires a bolt of coruscating lightning into the three adventurers.  The two silver bugs are firing little missiles at Horbin.  The party strikes, whirls, smashes; Sith destroys the gold construct with the chain he took from the mistress of chains.  A silver one pops a spinning sawblade on Horbin, but he adeptly parries it and strikes back.  In less than a minute the clockwork bugs in the area with them are destroyed.

But the lights are on, everywhere, and the noises!  It sounds like something exploded somewhere, and the ship feels like it’s shrinking.  And the thought of fighting all the hundreds or thousands of clockwork bugs they’ve seen makes their stomachs shrink.  The three move as quickly as they can back towards the main deck, and they go only a hundred feet before encountering a marching line of scores of the copper horrors.  But the bugs ignore them, so rather than attacking them and perhaps drawing attention, the three characters simply beat feet.

On the deck, all is chaos.  It’s all kinds of foggy, but clearly the water level has risen significantly relative to the deck in just the few moments since the rod was plugged in.  Yes, mom, the ship is sinking.  And let’s not forget about the bugs!  And what blew up, anyway?  But hey, at times like this, what’s an adventurer to do?  Outnumbered thousands to three, with drowning coming up soon- and boy, won’t that huge, huge, ship make some kind of whirlpool or something when it goes down?- things look dark for our heroes.

But never underestimate the gods!  Praying fervently to Dexter that there’s somewhere close enough to reach, Horbin casts water walk on everyone he can find.  And water breathing.  Sith casts fly so he doesn’t even need to worry about it.  The ship is going down, no joke here... hope everyone made it off!  But boy it’s foggy right now, and  where are we going now, anyway?



Next time: a couple of new friends and so much wisdom damage it hurts!


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## the Jester (Aug 23, 2002)

*Dangers in the mist*

As they leave the ship, they can feel a strange warmth at their backs.  There are hissing noises behind them.

The gloom seems omnipresent.  The mist is so thick they can’t see more than a few feet in any direction.

The party finally reaches land, but the mist around them is cloying and disorienting.  Clambake, who can see through even magical mist and fog due to the touch of the obelisk in Var, cannot penetrate this.  They don’t like it at all.  And there’s no sign of either Titus or Anvar.

“Where are we?” wonders Spukoni.  Nobody knows.  

The move cautiously, trying not to get separated.  It could easily happen, and the mist definitely does something funny to everyone’s sense of direction.  They move inland a little way, away from the crashing surf and the beach.  The island seems to have a fair number of sickly trees, clumps of tall grass all over, and lots of rocks.  It gently ascends to a hillock, and though they can’t see with all the mist, they hope for better visibility in the morning.  Dark is descending, and so the group camps.  It’s all very moist, with the mist leaving a wet scum on everything.  By midnight they might as well have spent the night in the rain.  They set watches, and although they hear a few strange sounds in the night, they rest unmolested.

In the morning they find the fog allows them to see about 20’, which is better... but still bad.  A few spells cast by Horbin verify that it’s magical in nature, but not evil.  Not really knowing what to do, the group decides to head back down slope and try to find Anvar and Titus along the beach... if they survived.  The party, worried and out of their element, moves back down towards the beach.  It’s chilly and still the wet clings in the air.  Clearly, this place is not good for them.  They follow the coastline around until they come to a shielded lagoon.  There, as they trudge along, Spukoni stops and motions for silence.  “I hear something,” he squeaks.  “It sounds like... a rowboat.”

A shadowy figure, rowing a small boat, emerges from the gloom: a human in a rowboat.  It seems he is a fisher.  This bizarre sight sets the party on edge.  He comes towards them, a quizzical look on his face.  “Who’re you?” he calls.

“Who’re you?” the group replies, pretty much all of them at once.

“I asked you first,” the fisherman says, looking more suspicious now.

The party exchanges glances, then: “I’m Krunkshank.” 

“I’m the Inexplicable Enigma!” Spukoni exclaims.  He can’t say his own name, but he doesn’t admit that.  

“What’s your name?”

“Tell him my name!” Spukoni calls to the rest of the party.

“What’s your name?” asks Horbin.

“I’m Turk,” the fisherman answers.  “I’m not used to having guests.”  A pause, then: “You want some fish?”

“Sure,” says Clambake.  “You got any clams?”

“No, just fish.”

“Tell him my name,” Spukoni insists.

“Oh.  I like clams.  But I like fish too.”

Turk takes the party to his hut.  It turns out he’s quite the expert fisherman.  He says he’s from the island of Pesh, well-known as one of the big economic powers in the region.  Pesh is famous for its spices, silks and strange customs; it’s said that the men wear scarves and makeup, and that the ruler is the oldest member of a huge ruling family.  But Turk isn’t in to any of that stuff; he’s into fish.  He serves our heroes a big vat of fish stew and cheerfully relates his story.  He hasn’t seen another friendly face in months.  He’s been here, in the Isles of Gloom (“Aha!  Now we know where we are!” Sith whispers to Spukoni), searching for an extremely rare fish he wants to catch.  The conversation turns to religion; it seems that Turk is so comfortable here because he’s a cleric of the Sea Queen.  The conversation turns long, and Turk invites them to spend the night in his hut.  Finding him a trustworthy-seeming individual, the party gratefully agrees.  He also offers to see if the Sea Queen might have some advice for them as to how to get away from this place.

The next day, the group heads to the beach.  The fog is thick- visibility is again around 10’.  Turk seems to contemplate for a while, and then the water starts to bubble and foam.  Striding out of the sea comes an immense blue giant!  Turk falls to his knees in awe.  The rest of the party waits tensely, hoping the giant will be friendly- but it looks angry.  Water pours from its brow, and it is covered in a harness of seaweed, shells, starfish and the like.

“You!” it booms out, pointing its finger directly at them.  “You have done the sea a great wrong!”  Turk’s eyes widen, and he looks at them with a betrayed expression.  “Why did you allow the metal ship to descend?  Now it rests on the bottom, active and dangerous!”

“We didn’t mean to,” says Horbin.  “We turned it on by accident...”

“You ACTIVATED it!”  The giant glares, and more water pours from its brow.  Its great muscles ripple as its huge fists clench.  “Then indeed, you are responsible for it!  Very well, then: there is a cove of sacred sand nearby along the beach, but pirates have claimed the cove.  The sand is needed for a most holy species of turtle to breed.  Without it, their eggs will not mature, and now they cannot reach it is safety to lay their eggs because of the pirate ship!”  He pulls a satchel from the webbing of seaweed he wears.  “You will take some of the sacred white sand from the beach and bury these eggs somewhere else safe, near the water- or I will crash upon you like waves on a beach!”

“Could you, ah, help us get out of here?” Sith asks, always looking to make a bargain since his time in the Bastion of Law.

The giant’s glare darkens further, and for a moment it seems the huge creature will attack him for his impudence.  But finally, he says, “If you succeed I will do what I can for you.”  Then it turns and stalks back down into the depths, vanishing into the mist before it’s even waist-deep.

“Well, at least now we might be able to get out of here,” Sith says.

The party moves down the beach, hoping to find this cove.  Turk goes to fetch her boat and fishing gear, saying he’ll catch up.  “Couldn’t we just take the pirate ship?” Clambake asks.  The group seems to like this idea, but Krunkshank points out that none of them know how to sail.  Then-

Three creatures emerge from the mist out of nowhere.  It seems obvious that they can sense the group without seeing them, because one of them breathes on them before it emerges, and a darker, swirling mist falls around the group.  They cry out, feeling their senses dull and their willpower weaken.  Spukoni drops back into the mist to try to hide, but the monsters’ superior senses lead them right to him and they move into flanking.

The monsters are horribly unlike anything anyone in the group has ever seen.  They are hard to see in the mists but seem to stand about 7’ high.  Their flesh on their strange faces churns like the mist itself.  Their skin and hair are shades of white and misty grey, and their arms are long and thin.  They wear clothes but no weapons, and as they slam at Spukoni he feels his precarious grip on his will slipping to the edge.  The other one moves in on Horbin, slamming him with both claws and a savage bite!  Horbin’s wisdom sinks below the point of casting spells.  Screaming at the edge of his sanity, the cleric of the Light turns and flees into the mist!

Spukoni desperately throws a couple of polymorphs at the two creatures flanking him, and both succeed!  The monsters turn into carp, flopping around like the fish in the end of that old Faith No More video.  Sith drops after the wisdom-draining attentions of the final creature, and with a chill Spukoni realizes he’s facing it alone with 2 points of Wisdom left.  The monster springs at him, biting and knocking him prone, and he desperately scrambles back and up and fires a volley of magic missiles- and it drops.

Carefully, Spukoni drags his fallen comrades to a safe spot, figuring a week or so ought to be enough time to rest and recuperate...



Next time: The party loses someone, and this time they aren't just lost- they die!  

By the by, the sea giant is in the homebrew monsters forum right now, and I posted the glumring (the monsters that drain all the wisdom the party's got) about a month or two ago, you can prolly still find it if you want to take a look.


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## the Jester (Aug 24, 2002)

*Attack of the mist spider*

[Disclaimer: I lied, nobody dies this time... I'd originally thought that this update would cover more; that's next time.  But yes, one of our heroes does indeed bite the metaphorical bullet very soon.]






The problem is, there’s no cleric handy.  

Turk never returned to them after going to fetch his boat; but this probably has to do with the fact that almost immediately they were attacked and then hiding.  Horbin’s missing, too; he probably couldn’t find them either after fleeing into the mist.  And where are Bolfol and Clambake?  They thought they heard someone calling in the distance once, but...  that ways days ago.

In short, Spukoni, Sith, Krunkshank are alone and lost in the mist, and it’s been a week since the fight.  A week, by the way, is nine days long in Cydra.

Cautiously, after edging their way down to the beach again, the three move along, hoping to find someone or something.  What if Turk and the rest have already left with the giant?  What if they’re dead?  The three of them know that they don’t have much chance in this place by themselves. 

But along they go, since they don’t have a choice, seeking... well... anything or anyone.  And before too long, they stumble across a dwarf, of all things.  “I remember you!” exclaims Krunkshank.  “We met you before!  You’re Stone Phillips!”

Indeed; this dwarf has crossed paths with the party once or twice.  He even accompanied them on a brief adventure, but that was far away.  Gloomily, Stone tells his tale: he was on a ship attacked by pirates and only survived by clutching to some driftwood.  The party and Stone get reacquainted, and the do the logical thing- they join forces.  “There’s nasty things in the mist!” Spukoni exclaims.

How right he is.

The group of four travels a few hours down the rocky beach.  It’s an exhausting walk, between sand and stones and the constant chill.  They are all ill-spirited, fearing more wisdom damage and not having the wisdom to take much of it.  But it isn’t wisdom damage that finds them; it’s constitution damage.

They settle in to rest a little way from the beach.  Krunkshank takes the first watch, and the rest settle in to sleep.  A fire helps cut the chill a little.  And then, out the mist, rushing quickly at Krunkshank, comes an almost-silent vaporous looking thing.  In fact, there’s a picture I couldn’t show the pcs at the time here: http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/mm2_gallery/88268_620_23.jpg. 

Krunkshank gives a garbled, surprised shout as the mist monster moves on top of him.  He feels his blood chill further and the mist starts to turn red around him.  Spukoni and Sith sit bolt upright, wakened by their dwarf companion’s cry, and scramble to their feet.  Spukoni gives a great shiver and changes into a multi-tentacled, dripping, abhorrent form- his pseudonatural shape!  Sith pulls out his wand of haste and uses it on himself.  And Krunkshank steps out of the monster and drops a fireball on it.  There is a terrible roar as the flames burst out just next to him- and the monster gives a hissing laugh, seemingly unaffected by it!

Then, since it’s already in their midst, the scarlet vapor turns and reaches for Spukoni.  His tentacles lash about as the monster claws at him.  He burbles back a step, then hastes himself and sprouts a field of mirror images.  Sith steps back too, drawing out his chain and tossing a handful of magic missiles at the monster- which also zing off it ineffectively.  Krunkshank, noting the crimson creature’s seeming spell resistance, steps back and casts a spell not on it, but on his axe.

Then, as the mist monster slides in towards Sith, all three of them engage it in melee.  Stone finally hears the noise as it squeals before the combined onslaught of Sith’s chain, Spukoni’s tentacle-wielded blade and Krunkshank’s axe. The creature seems to burst like a water balloon, and the red color splatters to the ground as blood while the misty part of the creature seems to evaporate.

“What was that?” Stone exclaims. 

“Something nasty,” says Krunkshank.  “I think we should move our camp.”

The party agrees, and they spend the rest of the night in a new location, screened by some of the sickly-looking trees.  The rest of the night they are undisturbed, but in the misty morning they’re not much better off than they were.  But what choice do they have?  Back to the sea shore.

That day, while traveling, they meet the mist spider.  Its body looks hairy, but the hair is white and writhes like mist.  Its eyes seem to swirl and change from white to grey to a pale blue color.  Strange filaments seem to extend and retract from the creature’s body almost like hooks.  It barrels down on them, looking very unfriendly, and they can feel an aura sapping their will, blurring their senses, as it advances.

“Not good!” shouts Stone.

Spukoni tumbles away, then hastes and mirrors himself again.  Sith pulls out his wand of haste and uses it on himself, then casts a shield spell.  Krunkshank takes a step back from the huge monster and unleashes a flame strike on it.

And once again, the spell slides off of its spell resistance.

Stone is screaming his deity’s curses on the spider as it skitters up to Sith and bites him, its terrible fangs breaking through his shield spell like paper.  He gives a terrible cry as he feels a numbness enter him from a poison, but manages to resist it.  The eldritch master Spukoni fires off a pair of lightning bolts, and one of them sizzles and burns it, but the other just deflects off of its resistance.  Sith lays into it with his diabolical spiked chain, lashing it thrice and dealing terrible damage.  Krunkshank tosses another fireball at it, and again his magic slides off its resistance like oil meeting water.  Cursing creatively in frustration, he pulls his axe out.

With another pair of bites, the spider drops Sith into an insensate state.  The chain drops from his senseless fingers as he tumbles to lie on the rocks before it, drooling and mumbling.  Still cursing, Stone invokes an area of darkness and steps up to grab Sith’s body.

Seeing the darkness fall, Spukoni takes his best shot with two more lightning bolts and tumbles back.  Krunkshank keeps backing away, once again enchanting the trusty ol’ axe.  And, like most predators that live in the gloom, the mist spider can sense life, and so it takes a big bite out of Stone, who gives a great cry of pain as the venom enters him.  But like Sith the first time, he shrugs it off, heroically healing himself and grabbing Sith and making ready to pull him back.  But the spider’s right there and takes another good bite out of him, and this time Stone feels his wisdom dwindling.  With a cry of frustration, he pulls out a scroll and reads it off (yes, even in the darkness) to summon a fire elemental.

The spider, sensing a new target, takes but a moment to devour it.  But it’s enough time for Stone to pull Sith away.  Krunkshank tries firing a searing light into the darkness, more from frustration than anything else, but things are looking better as Stone manages to restore enough wisdom that Sith can stand and fight.  When the mist spider emerges from the darkness a moment later, it finds itself facing Stone, Sith and Krunkshank, all angry and scared and with weapons ready.  The three smack at it, and though it succeeds in biting Stone Phillips again, they destroy it.  With a squeal, it curls up.

“Good lord,” chokes Krunkshank, “that thing was tough!”




Next time: What happens when you play with a dire bear?  Find out as one of our heroes dies!


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## the Jester (Aug 24, 2002)

If anyone's interested, the mist spider's stats are here:

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=17478


It was a big nasty fight!


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## Welverin (Aug 25, 2002)

Still here, still liking it.

Do you have a link to the big list of chaos? I'm not having much luck finding it.


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## the Jester (Aug 25, 2002)

Hey Welverine!

Thanks for posting the feedback- it's always nice to know somebody's watching.

Here's the thread with the chaos chart- it runs from 1-500 with 25 subtables:

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=20108

It's awful fun- but if you use it, just remember that it can totally destroy a character or totally superpower him.


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## the Jester (Aug 26, 2002)

*Don't Pet the Dire Bears*

Have I mentioned that I typically run a very high-fatality game?








The party moves on, again after a few moments’ rest.  Are their missing companions as lost as they are?  What happened to that Turk guy?  Where are the damn pirates?  What day is it?  How long were they on the astral plane anyway?  They haven’t checked the date since then.  For all they know, it might have been a year on that empty plane!

They mostly continue edging along the coast, though they use their clearest afternoon yet (the mist allows them to see 30’) to explore a little inland and they find that the isle seems to ascend to some ruins.  But after a brief flirt with the idea of exploring them, they decide to keep trying to find the pirates.  Stone tries casting a locate object spell to find a ship, but unfortunately his range is too short and he fails to locate them.  So the group descends again towards the coast, where they plan to continue along the way they were going.  After all, how big can the island be?

Before they reach the beach, however, they stumble upon a humungous bear with feral, brutal features scratching its back against the largest tree they’ve seen on the island.  They come to a quick halt, but it’s noticed them.  It doesn’t seem to be angry or hostile, but our heroes tense; this could be ugly if it gets into a fight.  Krunkshank enchants his axe- he’s done that a lot lately- as it ambles on over, and by the time most of them even realize what’s happening, it’s right next to them, sniffing at the group.  Sith pulls out his wand of haste and gets uses it on himself , then says, “Nice bear... nice bear...” and tries to handle the huge animal.  Krunkshank has readied a fireball, and Stone isn’t sure what to do, because after a cursory sniff it closes its massive jaws gently on his leg!  It isn’t biting him, but he sure isn’t happy.

Stone chokes out a “Nice... bear...” of his own, starts trembling and pats it on the head himself.

Whether it’s the pat on the head, whatever the bear smelled on Stone’s leg, or the smell of fear- the dire bear suddenly bites down as hard as it can.  The dwarf cleric lets out a shriek of pain as there’s the sound of armor and flesh, and maybe bone? –crunching under the bear’s terrific jaws.  Krunkshank roars, “STUPID BEAR!” and hurls his ready fireball onto its hindquarters, while Sith tries to cast a spell defensively.  Unfortunately the orcish necromancer can’t muster his concentration and loses his fly!  Still, he’s hasted, so he steps back to displace himself with another spell- and falls through a shallow screen of bushing down a slope.  With a groan he stumbles to his feet

“GRRRRRR!” says the bear, and it tenses its massive jaws on Stone’s thigh again.  He cries out again, and then it spits him out like a discarded rag doll.  “Ya bastard!” he coughs, whipping out his morningstar and swinging it, but his leg is pouring out blood.  He almost slips, then stumbles back 5’- and falls off a depression, dropping about 5’ into a shallow pit!  Krunkshank fires out a searing light spell, burning the giant bear’s eyes, and Sith first magic missiles the beast and then clambers up.  At the top, he draws forth the chain Senotyfe he claimed from the mistress of chains.  They’ve been talking, you see.

The bear, however, moves before he has a chance to strike at it, and he’s in perfect position for it to full attack him.  He has no defensive magic up, either.  It swats him with a tree sized limb, then grabs him and pulls him forward into its deadly embrace.  Krunkshank fires another blast of searing light at it, and Sith struggles to loose himself from the monster’s grip.  The bear continues to maul him, then takes a swipe at Krunkshank, leaving terrible rakes across his face and chest.  With a cry, the dwarven elementalist brings his axe around, but he’s so shaken by the damage he took that he misses an easy shot.

At the bottom of the small pit, Stone drags himself up and out, then brings up his morningstar.  He’s just in time to see his orcish ally break free, stagger 5’ back and unleash a blistering wave of attacks with the chain.  It almost seems to howl through the air as it crashes against the bear’s forelimb and head.

With an ear-shattering roar, the dire bear moves in on Sith again, and it tears him literally in two.

“Sith!” cries Stone, dropping his morningstar and leaping on the bear with his punch dagger (*why, I have no idea.)  Then Krunkshank steps in and hews its head from its shoulders.  The massive bear dies, its head giving out one last surprised snarl.

But it’s too later for Sith.  And looking at each other, Stone and Krunkshank realize... now they are two.






Next time: We find our missing people!  'Bout time, especially with Sith- one of the highest level members of the party- dead...


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## Welverin (Aug 31, 2002)

Damn it man, where are you!


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## the Jester (Sep 3, 2002)

Welverin said:
			
		

> *Damn it man, where are you! *




Heh... actually, I was off at Burning Man for a week, but I just got back a few hours ago and will post another update here in by, um, tomorrow night- I promise!   

And thanks for the encouragement, it's certainly some work to write all this stuff up- I'm glad you're enjoying it.


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## Welverin (Sep 3, 2002)

the Jester said:
			
		

> *
> Heh... actually, I was off at Burning Man for a week, but I just got back a few hours ago and will post another update here in by, um, tomorrow night- I promise!  *




Burning Man?



> *And thanks for the encouragement, it's certainly some work to write all this stuff up- I'm glad you're enjoying it. *




Well, thanks for writing it up, it's appreciated.


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## the Jester (Sep 3, 2002)

Burning Man is the strangest thing ever, it's a bizarre festival that culminates in the burning of the Man, who is a humungous wood figure packed full of fireworks and explosives.... I started a thread about it some time ago to see if anyone else was going from the community here, but no such luck... here's a link if you're interested:
http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=18979


I'll post a new update later today!


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## the Jester (Sep 3, 2002)

*Well, here's _some_ of the group, anyhow!*

Well, here we go- a partial reunion, a fight barely worth mentioning, and the setup for a fight _definitely_ worth mentioning...





That damned infernal chain!  When Stone tries to pick it up he feels his life force ebbing.  Clearly it doesn’t like his philosophy on life.  Krunkshank picks it up as well, but the results are the same.  “We could leave it,” suggests Stone, but his dwarven nature asserts itself as he finishes, “but then we couldn’t sell it.”  Since Krunkshank, too, is a dwarf- and therefore greedy- er, appreciative of money- they wrap it in a tatter of Sith’s clothes and stuff it in the elementalist’s cloak.  Krunkshank seems moody; he’s traveled with Sith long enough to know the orcish necromancer’s value, especially in a place a wrought with danger as the Isles of Gloom.  Without him... without any of their companions... can the two dwarves escape?

In the morning they finish looting Sith’s gear and move on.  Then, Stone and Krunkshank almost immediately discover to their chagrin just how close they were to their allies when they stumble upon the feathered Spukoni putting out a campfire.  Next to him is a troll (actually a polymorphed Vito) and Clambake.  It’s the fire the three slept by, and it’s probably less than a hundred yards from Sith’s death site.  A joyful reunion provides the adventurers with a respite from the despair of the mist, and then turns sad when the dwarves tell of Sith’s untimely end.  Spukoni is especially saddened, since he and Sith have long been allies in the “don’t touch me in my no-no place” club.  But since leaving Valonia, there’ve been few violations of that nature; maybe it’s an orcish thing?  Oh well; the chaotic neutral Spukoni moves on, much quicker than he did when his twin brother died (back when he was called Milosh).

“My friends,” Vito says solemnly, “I suggest we do the only honorable thing here.”  He pulls out a pair of dice- not even loaded- and they begin dividing up Sith’s gear.  He didn’t have a lot, but he had the chain taken from the mistress of chains, the spiked chain he’d enchanted himself, the hat from the githyanki and a few other items.  In a few minutes the group has split everything up, not without a touch of melancholy, but they’re adventurers.  They all know the risks. 

The infernal spiked chain is an interesting item in the mix.  Nobody in the party can use it; they debate leaving it behind, but finally Spukoni takes it as one of his picks.  Grabbing it up, he feels his vitality ebb, but he has no intention of using it.  Maybe, he thinks, I can sell it or something.  And Sith had revealed that it could communicate to some extent, so the chaos-touched eldritch master whispers to it, “I don’t want to use you, I just want to carry you away from here!”

To his surprise, the chain answers him telepathically.  “You are not suited to hold me.”

Mentally, Spukoni responds, “What do you want done with you?”

A few moments of mental bargaining later, Spukoni agrees to carry it to a new wielder that it approves of and the chain- now revealed as Senotyfe- agrees not to harm him or his companions in the interim, as long as none of the disorderly scum try to touch it.  So the feathered eldritch master puts it in his special pocket, along with the githyanki silver sword.  His butt is rapidly becoming the resting place of all the items that are too dangerous for the party to carry otherwise.  Good idea?  He isn’t so sure, but hey, he’s chaotic neutral.  Lots of his ideas aren’t so good.

After dividing their dead companion’s gear the group moves on down the beach.  Almost immediately, some strange, smoky creatures rush at them from the ocean.  The battle, however, is never truly in doubt.  Afraid for a moment that these are more of the crimson bloodsuckers that gave them so much trouble before, they find to their relief that the monsters are much less formidable.  Spukoni’s lightning bolts and Vito’s trollish attacks finish the monsters off in seconds, the party’s first easy victory since arriving.  Could the tide be turning their way?

Indeed, as they move down the beach, the group finds a steep rise paralleling the water.  They continue below it until the beach butts up against it and they have no choice but to climb it, then turn and retreat to where the rise started.  And then they hear voices.  Could it be more of their missing companions?  Anvar, Horbin, Turk, Bolfol- perhaps even the clockwork master Titus?  But no- the voices are guttural, speaking the orcish tongue.

Pirates?  The party exchanges looks and makes a hurried whispered plan.  Spukoni puts on the ring that cloaks him with the illusion of an orc and starts up the slope to talk to them, Vito following.  He’ll claim to be shipwrecked and looking for a ship to sign on with, and having Vito (as a troll) to back him up makes him seem more formidable and valuable as a crewman; the rest of the party will be ready to back him up- or to scoop up some of the sacred sand they need to fulfill the giant’s mission if he can keep them distracted long enough.  They’ll stay just out of sight in the mist, following at a distance.  

“Why don’t we just take the ship?” asks Clambake.

“Does anyone know how to sail?” retorts Krunkshank.

Well, since that’s a no, the group decides to get on with their plan...






Next update: pirates, another hat, a weird ship- and Captain Clambake!


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## the Jester (Sep 3, 2002)

In case you're interested (anybody), I posted the glum template and the glumring on the homebrew board a while back.  Here's a link- and the glum orcish pirates were as listed except for their AC (they didn't have heavy armor on, being pirates).

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=17267

I'll post the next update soon, maybe even tonight!


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## the Jester (Sep 5, 2002)

*Sometimes it's good to look like an orc*

It’s not often that it’s good to look like an orc, thinks Spukoni, but this is one such time.   He clambers up the sandy slope towards the orcish voices, Vito following him as a troll.  As they get a little closer, the orcish conversation becomes comprehensible to Spukoni- being from Valonia, and a former spy among the orcs, he speaks their tongue.  It sounds as though there are two orcs talking, and they sound sullen and resentful.  The first voice is saying something about “...don’t see why we’re doing this.”

“The captain says so, that’s why,” the second answers.

“Vegetables!  Hah!  When was the last time _you_ ate vegetables?”

“Well, you never know.  Cap’n says we might be taking on new crew members soon.”

Then Spukoni and Vito top the rise and see the orcs through the mist.  They’re lightly armored, armed with cutlasses and dressed as sailors.  They stop talking as the two adventurers come into view.  “Orcs!” cries Spukoni.  “Me thought me heard voices.  Me very hungry.  You help me?”  

The two strange orcs exchange a glance.  The first turns to Spukoni and asks, “Who’re you?”

“Uh... me Sith.  Me very hungry!”

Again, a knowing look passes between the orcs.  “Well, then!  What are ya doing here, and who’s your friend?” the first one inquires, sounding jovial and friendly.

“Uh, ship sank in mist.  Very hungry!  Not eaten in days!”

“Hmm... maybe you’re looking for work?  We could use a few new hands.”  The orc pauses, looking Spukoni over.  “You say you came from a ship?”

Spukoni nods.  “We pirates!  We raid good, but mist bad.  Me want to get out of mist.  You have ship?”

A crafty look seems to pass between the two pirate orcs.  “Sure, we have a ship, or at least we sail on one.  Why don’t you come down and meet the captain?”

“No tricks,” the polymorphed Vito growls out in his most intimidating troll voice, “or I eat you!”

The two orcs laugh gruffly.  “No, no- no tricks.  Come on, we’ll take you to the ship and you can meet the captain.  He’ll take good care of you.”

“You have food?” Spukoni inquires.

“We’ll take good care of you,” the orc responds.  “We’ve got lots of rum.  C’mon.”

The rest of the group, meanwhile, moves slowly to keep up with the voices but to avoid being spotted in the mist.  Clambake clutches his shield wetly in the omnipresent fog, the clam scribed upon it reassuring him.  Stone moves clumsily up the slope, followed by Krunkshank.  They try to move as quietly as possible, hoping the strange distortions of the mist will prevent them from being heard as they clank along with their heavy armors and creaking weapons.

Spukoni and Vito find themselves descending into the sacred cove described to them by the giant days ago.  The mist seems lighter here, less cloying.  It’s as if something about the cove itself helps keep it at bay.  Anchored a little off shore is a ship, appearing tattered and weathered at this distance, and moving on it are some orcs.  On the shore are still more, perhaps another ten.  As the two disguised adventurers and their escorts move up towards the group of pirates, the orcs on shore move towards them in turn.  “Hey there,” calls one of the orcs on shore.  “Who are these?”  He squints towards Spukoni and Vito.

“We very hungry,” Spukoni says, trying to sound humble.  “You have food?”

“Let’s get these fellows some rum,” says the orc who spoke to them atop the rise.  “They’ll be joining us.”

“Right,” answers the fellow who asked who they were.  With a gesture, he directs a few of his men- for he’s obviously the one in charge of this group- to a small rowboat.  “Go tell the captain we’ve got some new recruits.  And bring back some rum.”  Four of the orcs trot to the boat and push it into the water.

“Food?” asks Spukoni again.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the leader-type sneers.  “We’ll take good care of you.”

Just then, looking hard and menacing at the orcs, Vito realizes something quite unsettling.  They don’t have any color in their eyes at all.  They’re just pure white.  It’s disturbing.  He grunts out, “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

The orcs exchange pale-eyed glances.  “Nothing,” the leader growls.  “Everything’s fine.  You just wait a few minutes and the cap’n will be here.  He’ll set ya straight on everything.  Everything...”

“Any tricks,” Vito grunts, “and I eat your friends.”

“Food?” Spukoni asks again, but now he’s trying to get a good look at the orcs’ eyes as well.  Whatever Vito saw, it’s clearly rattled him, and Spukoni is beginning to be uneasy.

“Don’t worry, friend,” the first orc who spoke to them on the rise answers, “you won’t be hungry for long.”  The orcs chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” asks Vito.  He’s starting to get worried now; this whole thing smells more like trouble with every second.  “You not funny!”  He starts to back away, and Spukoni decides that it may be time to get out while the getting’s good; he too starts to retreat.

“Where are you going, friends?” the leader type asks.  The pirates are starting to spread out in a semicircle around the two adventurers.  “The cap’n will be here any minute.  He’ll answer any questions you have.”

“Uh, we want food,” Spukoni says, trying not to squeak.  “Maybe we go find and come back?”

“No,” the orcish leader says, “you’ll wait right here.”  The orcs’ hands have strayed to the hilts of their cutlasses.

Glancing to the cove, Vito notes that the orcs in the rowboat have reached the pirate ship.  Doubtless they’re summoning up their captain even now.  He glances sidelong at Spukoni, wondering how far away backup is from the rest of the group.  Screw it, he thinks, stepping back and casting a sound burst.

There’s a flurry of motion, and then everything happens at once.



Next update: Fighting pirates!  Will Vito eat the orcs?  Where's that hat I mentioned?  Did someone say Captain Clambake?  Will the party get the sacred sand and plant the eggs?  Will they take the pirate ship?  Will it still be good to look like an orc?  Will they find their other friends?  Will they all die??


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## the Jester (Sep 5, 2002)

*Against the Pirates*

Clambake hears the burst of sound and starts hurrying downslope, pausing just long enough to lay a spell of endurance on himself.  Spukoni fires a lightning bolt at the orcs near him, shattering the image he’d presented of himself as stupid and goofy in a blaze of blue-white electricity.  The smell of ozone burns the air as two of the orcs fall with cries of pain.  The rest charge him since he’s closer (and less threatening looking) than Vito.  Several cutlasses slice into him.  The polymorphed Vito grunts, “I warned you,” as he moves to one of the fallen orcs and prepares to eat it.  A shield emblazoned with a clam whizzes past him and smacks into one of the orcs, then whistles through the air back to the hand of Clambake.  Meanwhile, Spukoni tumbles away from the onrushing pirates and to the side, where they’re all lined up for a perfect shot with another bolt.  He lays them low with another blast, then glances out towards the ship: the rowboat is still tied up but he can hear voices, urgent now that the sounds of magic and death are reverberating across the beach.

Vito casts clairaudience and listens in on the ship, but it’s too late to hear much more than the sound of the rowboat dropping into the water and the voices of multiple orcs.  “They’re coming,” he warns the party.  Meanwhile Stone is gathering the sand they need- fine white sand that seems to be all up and down the cove.  It’s definitely different from the sand on the rest of the island, which seems coarse and is mostly a kind of crappy brown color.  Spukoni conjures an unseen servant and gives it a sack to help gather the sand as Krunkshank channels elemental power to perform some minor healing on him.  Clambake manifests invisibility, fading from view.  The group tenses, ready for a fight... and it’s upon them in moments as the orcish pirates near the shore, accompanied by a strange creature.  Its grey-white flesh seems to churn like the mist, and it wears a fine captain’s hat.  They’ve fought these things before, and they drain wisdom in perilous amounts!

But this time Krunkshank is ready, and even as the pirate rowboat slides the last few feet towards the beach he channels the power of fire and a wall of red-hot flames appears directly before the boat!  The screams of orcs rise through the mist as the onrushing rowboat sails right into the wall, moving to quick to stop in time, and a few of the orcs jump over the side into the water... but more of them die a horrible burning death without even time to react.  Vito blasts one of the survivors with a sound burst, stunning him and leaving him easy prey.  As another of the orcs slogs towards shore, Spukoni once again takes advantage of the positioning to nail them both with a lightning bolt, then draws the wand of lightning bolts he just this morning took from Sith’s corpse.

But now the strange captain, its skin and hair shades of white and misty grey, breathes out a misty vapor, dulling the minds of the entire party (except Stone, who is out of range gathering the sand).  The party starts to falter, but Krunkshank still has presence enough to blast the creature with a flame strike.  Its eyes flash hatred as it starts to move towards him.  But then the shield of Clambake whirls in from the side, smacking the creature in the head with brutal force.

A javelin seems to spring from the water as the last surviving orc pirate rises, but he falls with a strangled cry as Spukoni uses his wand, catching both captain and orc in the blast.  The glumring captain seems to falter, but then charges forward at the eldritch master, its wicked claws extended in hatred.  But as it moves forward, it fails to account for the reach a troll has- or in this case, a halfling polymorphed into a troll.  Vito takes an attack of opportunity on it, and the blow strikes true, tearing out the monster’s throat.

Silence falls.

All the group’s enemies are down.  There is no movement on the beach.  It seems that they are victorious.  It takes only a few moments to gather themselves up.  Then the group buries the eggs given them by the giant and Clambake takes the hat from the dead pirate captain.  “Arr,” he says, “I think I like this hat.”

“Now what?” asks Krunkshank.  “How do we contact the giant?”

“Or should we take the ship?” Clambake asks back.  His gaze wanders out to it.  “There may at least be booty on it, arr.”

“Look!” Spukoni squeaks, a strange sound coming from someone who looks like a tough orc warrior (he hasn’t yet taken off the ring he wears to disguise himself).  He’s pointing down the beach... and there appear to be more figures coming their way.  But not orcs- it’s Bolfol and Turk!  The party’s almost all together again!





Next time: Checking out the ship, a new friend who knows where the Gloom comes from, and how do you contact that giant anyway, fisherman?


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## the Jester (Sep 5, 2002)

*Captain Clambake*

A joyful reunion occurs.  Laughing with happiness for the first time in the Gloom, our heroes embrace each other in a big party hug.  

Surveying the carnage, Turk asks for a recap on what happened and the characters who fought the pirates tell their tale.  There is a moment of silence for poor dead Sith, and a few minutes spent discussing Horbin, who’s still missing.  “He’s probably dead by now on his own,” Turk says grimly.  “Without the Sea Queen to look over and guide him like I had, he couldn’t possibly have survived this long on his own.  What would he eat?  And with the Gloom so full of wisdom draining monsters, his spells would probably give out quickly.”  He sighs.  “Two dead.  Well, at least you guys got the eggs buried and took out the pirates!”

“Let’s check out the ship,” Clambake says.  “Arr.”

The party examines the rowboat, but it’s too badly burned by Krunkshank’s wall of fire.  The bottom of it has been charred too badly to seal against the water.  But with the party together again a combination of water walking and flight carries them over to the pirate vessel.  

The ship, whose name- the Sea Wraith- is emblazoned on the hull- looks old and rickety.  With only a glance most of the group concludes that it shouldn’t even be floating.  The boards are swollen and cracked, the sails are thin and tattered, the mast looks almost like it’s about to fall over.  The band of adventurers starts searching for treasure- and a figure emerges from below decks.  The party stops, drawing weapons, but this is no orc.

“Hi,” says the strange, small creature.  It looks almost like a halfling- a scaley, green-tinged, long-faced, clawed and befanged halfling.  He looks around the ship.  “So, ah, I guess you took out the pirates?”

“Who the hell are you??” cries out Bolfol.  “And what are you doing here?”

“I’m Droidi,” answers the strange one.  “I was on a different ship, umm... looking for something.  These pirates raided the ship I was on and I signed on with them, but I was looking for a way out.  Looks like you provided it.  Thanks.”

“Looking for something?” Turk asks.  “In the Gloom?  What were you looking for?”

“Well, I, ah, know what causes the Gloom.  I was looking for it, but, uh, now that I’m on my own...”  Droidi pauses.  “Well, I’m not so sure about this Gloom area now.  It’s...”  He pauses again.  “Unnatural.”

A few moments to get acquainted, and the party decides to allow Droidi and his giant lizard mount to join with them.  He seems easy going, and he drops his current quest for something called the Decanter of Endless Gloom, preferring escape from... well, the endless Gloom.  After all, why die alone when you can travel with adventurers and die together?

"Will you accept the blessings of Na'Rat?" Spukoni asks the newcomer.

"Uh, sure," Droidi answers, more than a little confused by this strange feathery whip-armed creature.  He looks Spukoni up and down.  "Uh, what are you?"

"I'm a halfling!" the chaos-touched eldritch master answers with a big grin, and then whips Droidi gently, invoking his chaos touch powers.

Pop! 

Droidi grows a second head.

That wacky chaos stuff....

The search of the Sea Wraith continues, and though there isn’t much loot, there are some coins and, best of all to Clambake, a fine captain’s jacket.  “Arr,” he says, “I’m Captain Clambake, master of the Sea Wraith!” –and beams a toothy smile at the party.  The ship also seems to have several casks of rum, but strangely the galley holds no food at all.  

Uneasily, Krunkshank asks, “Well, how do we contact the giant?”

Turk has this well in hand, as it turns out; the sea giant gave him a whistle.  He ducks under the water and blows it, then climbs back on deck, where a discussion about the merits of the Sea Wraith is under way.  Captain Clambake, absentmindedly stroking his clam-emblazoned shield, is speaking: “...sure we can make her sail.  I know she doesn’t look like much, but arr!  A few minor repairs here and there, and she’ll be as good as new.”

“None of us know how to sail,” Bolfol points out.  

“Sure we do,” Clambake retorts.  “Just follow your captain’s lead, arr!  Rum for everyone!”

“Look at those sails, they won’t hold the wind,” Krunkshank argues.  “And this ship’s going to sink any time, look at the boards.”

“No, no, have a little faith in her,” Captain Clambake answers, running his hands along the deck railing.  “She’s fine.  She’s the fastest ship in these parts, I’d wager.  Arr!  And all that rum!  Yes, my friends, she’ll do fine.  Why, if she wasn’t such a good ship how would the pirates have done so well?”

As the debate continues, off the port bow the water starts to bubble.  A few seconds later, three sea giants emerge.  “HO!” calls the one the party recognizes as the fellow who gave them the eggs.  “Have you buried the eggs?”  His brow, furrowed, seems to pour out sea water.  His blue-green muscles ripple as he nears them, but he stops a short distance from the Sea Wraith.  “Come, let us speak... over here.”

“Arr,” responds Clambake, “why not come aboard?”

The giants exchange glances.  “That vessel,” says their speaker, “much like the accursed metal one, is EVIL.  You must leave it behind.”

“Evil?”  Clambake looks disbelievingly around him.  “You must be mistaken.”  Nonetheless, the group water walks and flies over to the giants.

“Oh great giant,” says Turk in a sing-song voice, “we have indeed buried the sacred eggs in the sacred sands, and we’ve driven out the pirates who infested the sacred cove.  What more can we do for you?”

The giant’s face smooths.  The two other giants move up beside him.  “You must leave that vessel behind.  I shall destroy it.  My brothers here will carry you to a safe place, an isle inhabited by your kind out of the Gloom.”

“Abandon my ship?  Arr, no,” says Clambake, sadness washing over his face.

“For a way out of here, it’s worth it,” Spukoni squeaks.  The party begins a debate among themselves, but the lead giant interrupts them.  

“I shall destroy this vessel of evil.  It is in your best interest not to be aboard at the time.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Krunkshank says, “Let’s go!”

“Arr,” says Clambake gloomily.  “Still, I guess it’s worth it for a way out of here.”

The two other giants grab up the party as the leader swims powerfully towards the Sea Wraith.  As the party is scooped up, Turk and Vito lay a dweomer of water breathing on them.  The Wraith and the sea giant leader recede into the mist as the swift sea giants begin taking them away, hopefully out of the Gloom forever.  Only Clambake looks back wistfully.  The sounds of tearing and powerful blows echo across the water behind them, presumably the sounds of the giant destroying the ship.  

Captain Clambake sighs, caressing his hat....





Well, that's it for the Gloom.  Next time out heroes reach Dorla, a piddly little island famous for experimenting with stupid, unworkable forms of government like democracy... just in time for the last week and a half of an election campaign.  But first, of course, they have to fight a giant barbarian and his pets!



[Dope!  Edited to add in a very important bit about Droidi's weird appearance getting weirder- can't believe I forgot that the first time through!]


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## the Jester (Sep 6, 2002)

*A giant and his dogs*

The strong strokes of the giant take the party far and fast.  Soon enough they exit the Gloom, and a ragged cheer rises from the group.  They pause at a small islet long enough to rest and recast the necessary water breathing magic, then continue on their way.  The journey, though very swift, nonetheless takes almost two days; but swift it is, and none of our heroes are about to complain about the time.  After all, they’re out of the Gloom at last- and they were only there for about two weeks.  Still, it seemed an eternity.

At last, the giant deposits them on a beach.  “There is a city of your kind a few miles along the coast,” he booms at them, water pouring from him as he retreats into the surf.  “Good luck to you.”  The adventurers wave their farewells, then start towards the city.  It’s already evening, though, so they figure it might be worth finding a good place to rest for the night, rather than traveling through unfamiliar territory.  Then the sound of howling wolves filters down to them from somewhere inland.  Exchanging glances, the party members have a quick debate and decide to try to make the city tonight after all.

It just isn’t ever that easy for a band of adventurers, though, is it?

They’ve barely begun their tired walk when they hear another howl, this one closer; and soon they hear yet another.  Bolfol and Stone exchange glances.  Nervously, Spukoni hands his ring of the orc to Droidi (“You look weird, we don’t want any trouble at the gates”) and turns Vito back into his normal (non-trollish) form.  Less than ten minutes later, the sounds of growling and crashing seem to leap out at them from a nearby cave- and then a giant, something like 11’ tall, and two huge, feral-looking dire wolves show themselves at the entrance.  Krunkshank gives a cry, pointing, and conjures a wall of fire to separate the party from the giant and the dire wolves.  Its terrible heat burns the beasts and giant, who quickly back off- but the party cannot see them through the opaque flames.  Bolfol sprints into the best shadows he can find while Spukoni hastes himself and casts a mirror image.  Turk drops back, not wanting to start a fight the party might be able to avoid and remembering the last, friendly giants they met.  Unfortunately, the wall of fire has already started the fight.  The party takes a few moments to ready their defenses, waiting tensely to see if anything will emerge through the wall of fire.  But when the attack comes it’s not through the cave mouth.

Unknown to the party, the cave has a second exit in its roof.  The singed and angry giant clambers to the top, chuckling softly as it grabs a huge boulder and hurls it, smacking Krunkshank right in the head!  He sees stars as he’s knocked to one knee, but he’s a dwarf, and an earth elementalist to boot; no stupid rock is going to take him down!  Shaking his bloody head, he squints up at where the boulder came from and blasts a flame strike at the giant.  Bolfol silently sheathes his rapier and quickdraws a crossbow, then loads it.  A lightning bolt crackles through the air from Spukoni, who- angered- also assumes his tentacled, wrong-looking pseudonatural form.

And the giant, howling and frothing at the mouth as it enters a barbarian rage, hurls itself at Droidi, smashing into him with an enormous tree trunk of a club!  The strange, scaley druid is knocked back, almost flying off of his feet.  Following close on the giant’s heels are his pet dire wolves, and though one takes a crossbow bolt from Bolfol, they begin tearing into the party.  Then the battle with the giant becomes a chaotic mess of blistering spells, swinging weapons, firing crossbows, snarling wolves, and trashing berserk giant!

Desperately wounded, Droidi tries to make nice with the wolves, but to no avail.  Turk, meanwhile, has conjured a celestial badger- not much, but it’ll distract the giant for a moment- which drops in a single blow of the berserker’s massive club.  Captain Clambake unleashes a mind blast, hoping to stun the giant, but to no avail; its rage prevents the mental assault from affecting it.  The wolf Bolfol shot savages him with its powerful jaws, dropping him unconscious, then springs towards Spukoni, who tumbles away, blasting the giant with another bolt of lightning and then polymorphing the wolf into a carp.  Clambake vanishes into the time stream as the giant charges at him, and Turk takes the opportunity to lash out with his club- and scores a crit!  The damage is just enough to finish the howling giant, leaving only a single dire wolf to deal with.  And this time, Droidi does manage to charm it, and moments later- after he speaks with the animal- it slinks off, still growling at the rest of the group.

“Now I say we rest,” Spukoni says, and the group agrees.



Next time: Poppin- nothing like a town that hates adventurers.  Just in time for an election...


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## the Jester (Sep 6, 2002)

*Oops, I forgot something*

Damn!  

I forgot a very important bit when the party first met Droidi two posts back, if you haven't read that post since I edited it you should go back and check out the Spukoni/Droidi chaos interaction really quick...


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## the Jester (Sep 6, 2002)

*We Don't Like Adventurers Here!*

Ah, civilization!  There’s nothing like a warm bed, a bath, a meal that’s been cooked, some wine or ale (or both) and a few wenches to take the edge off of months of wandering the wild parts of the world, a diet of fish, fish and more fish, and the death of old friends.  At least that’s the predominant feeling of the party as they approach the city the giant dropped them off near, though Turk loves fish and can never get enough of it.  Sadly, however, as they top a rolling hill and the “city” comes into view- well, it ain’t exactly a metropolis.  It’s more like... well... a town.  A mid-sized town.  From their vantage, the party can see that at least there’s a harbor; maybe they can book passage and get home.

Speaking of which, where exactly are they?  Nobody knows.  Wherever it is, though, they’re confident that they can at least get that bath, bed, and booze.  Probably the wenches, too.  And to wash the stink of blood, mud and ooze out of their clothes.  And... and... just a break from it all.

Yes, adventuring is fun, rewarding work- the party members are all rich compared to the average peasant- but it’s also stinky, dirty and violent.  Which suits some people quite well.  

So our heroes descend the little rolling hill towards the town, passing by several outlying farmhouses on the way, none of which have what could be considered exactly thriving crops.  The soil looks poor to Droidi, and as a druid he should know.  A river seems to run along the far side of the town, spilling into the sea.  The buildings are mostly sod, with a few wooden ones; there don’t appear to be many trees here, either.  As the group gets closer to the edge of town they note a simple wall that looks to be about 6’ high; not exactly great military defense, rather more of a border marker.  There’s a gate, manned by a couple of commoner-looking types.  Droidi’s wearing the orc ring to disguise his strange, reptilian features and two heads and Spukoni has disguised himself with a spell of alteration.  As they approach the two tired-looking gatemen greet them, looking the group over suspiciously.  

“What’s your business in Poppin?” the first asks.  He’s an older human graybeard.

“We’re adventurers,” Krunkshank announces.  “We want to charter a ship.”

The gatemen exchange a glance.  The graybeard almost snarls at them as he leans towards them.  “You be on good behavior here!  We don’t want no trouble with adventurers.  You cause any trouble and we’ll kick you right out of here!”  

“Oh, we’re not here to cause trouble,” Captain Clambake says.  “Arr, in fact, we just want to spend some of our gold here.  Arrr!”

The gatekeepers watch them suspiciously as they tromp into Poppin, wondering what that was all about.  The town seems rather diverse, showing lots of mixed human-elf and human-orc blood; but almost everywhere they look, our heroes find themselves meeting cold stares, disapproving glances, and hostile faces.  A little confused, the group decides to first find a bar or inn, so they start asking the locals for a recommendation.  The first person they stop is a human woman who looks at them nervously.  “Yer not gonna hurt me, are ya, lads?” she whines, backing away.  They let her go, scratching their heads in befuddlement.  

Vito, meanwhile, has been looking on the sides of some of the buildings, where there are some sort of posters.  “My friends,” he says, “look at this.”  The group clusters around and reads the posters.  They appear to be asking for votes for someone named Tangus the Brilliant in some sort of “election”.  This “election” thing seems to be due in twelve days.  A small discussion ensues with the whole party wondering about this.  What exactly is an election, anyway?  They corral another of the locals, this one a burly-looking half-orc male.

“Get outta here, adventurers!” he snaps at them.  “We don’t like your kind!”  And he stomps off.

Puzzled, Vito finally manages to get the lowdown by turning on the charm and describing himself as a simple businessman.  It seems the group is on the island of Dorla, infamous for experimenting with unworkable forms of governance; this election thing is to determine who will be the new Governor of Poppin.  What’s more, Vito manages to find out why nobody seems to like adventurers.  Finally, he also gets directions to a place called the Drinking Dwarves, where they can get at least a beer or twenty. 

“My friends,” he reports, “I think we should keep a low profile here.  This town’s last Governor was killed by adventurers.”

The group groans collectively.  They all have a momentary vision of high prices, hostile shopkeepers... and a short stay.  “Well,” suggests Captain Clambake, “why don’t we just go to the harbor and charter a ship?  Arr!  Or buy one!  We could sail it ourselves- just like the Wraith!”

“We don’t know how to sail,” Bolfol reminds him.

“Oh, arr, but I do.  Just follow me lead!  Arr!”

“I think we should have a night’s sleep in a bed first,” Vito says, “as well as a bath.  And perhaps we can do something in this town to clear our names, and the names of all adventurers like us.”

“Screw that!” says Krunkshank.  “Let’s go get drunk!”

So the party heads towards the Drinking Dwarves, catching dirty looks all the way.  As they do, Turk hems and haws, and finally he announces, “Well, I think I’ll be on my way, then.  I’m not really an adventurer, I’m a fisherman.  I’m going to go check out the fishing here.”  Spukoni, too, takes his leave, vaguely saying something about finding something fun to do and wandering away.  The rest of the group stops periodically along the way to read some of the election posters, trying to get a feel for the town politics.  They see more flyers supporting Tangus the Brilliant, several of which emphasize his status as a local priest.  Others are in support for a fellow named Ooluts, and these ones indicate that he’s throwing a huge open feast and party in a few days.  Vito finds another of Tangus’ posters- and this one has a diatribe against adventurers on it.






Next Update Soon, when our heroes reach the Drinking Dwarves, meet one of the other candidates (who has a total of +22 to his perform (satire) check!), hear him play the spoons, and find out why they can't simply charter a ship out of the harbor!


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## Piratecat (Sep 6, 2002)

> “My friends,” he reports, “I think we should keep a low profile here. This town’s last Governor was killed by adventurers.”




I love it!!    YOINK!


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## the Jester (Sep 6, 2002)

Hee hee... just wait... the party gets VERY involved in the election, especially Vito.  And the last governor's killers- no, that would be telling.

Thanks for reading, Piratecat!


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## Welverin (Sep 7, 2002)

*A whole plethora of updates, cool!*



> _Originally posted by the Jester _*I forgot a very important bit when the party first met Droidi two posts back, if you haven't read that post since I edited it you should go back and check out the Spukoni/Droidi chaos interaction really quick... *




That part was great! How could you forget it? I'm going to miss Spukoni if does have to leave for good.

Random Comments and questions:

Keep posting links to the stuff you create, like the Mist spider and Glumring, nice to look at the very least.

What inspired Clambakes player to take the captain outfit and start talking like a pirate? Was it just spur of the moment or was there more to it?
He?s like a piratical Captain America now, and really funny! My intuition on the funny bit was right it just took a bit to come to fruition.

Here's the tale of another pirate of unusual origins, link.


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## the Jester (Sep 7, 2002)

*Re: A whole plethora of updates, cool!*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *Keep posting links to the stuff you create, like the Mist spider and Glumring, nice to look at the very least.
> 
> What inspired Clambakes player to take the captain outfit and start talking like a pirate? Was it just spur of the moment or was there more to it?
> He?s like a piratical Captain America now, and really funny! My intuition on the funny bit was right it just took a bit to come to fruition.
> link. *




Well, if you haven't seen it yet I posted a poll about statting things out in the story hour itself, what's your opinion on that'n?  Here's the link in case it falls off the main page: Stats in story hours?

As to Captain Clambake and the pirate outfit- well, let's just say that there's more to it, which you'll see as time goes on...


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## the Jester (Sep 7, 2002)

*Enter Zenvo!*

The Drinking Dwarves is a cheery establishment, and though there are only a couple of dwarves inside (one of whom is the bartender), the prices are fair, the ale is excellent, and the clientele seems happy.  There’s no music as our friends arrive (other than the drunken group singing sea shanties, of course), but there are several dice games along one wall.  Vito immediately moves over to the gamers to try his hand at dice while the party’s dwarves move up to the bar to order.  It takes the bartender only a few minutes to get to them, and he introduces himself as Longburns.  The name seems to suit him, as his red sideburns flow down to his shoulders.  He serves them a fantastic dwarven ale and they order some food and ask for some rooms.  Unfortunately, he tells them that the Drinking Dwarves is a tavern only, not an inn; but he recommends a place called the Mulled Mead as a local inn of some repute.  

“You aren’t eating, Clambake,” notes Krunkshank.  “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Arr, not really.”  In fact, Captain Clambake suddenly realizes he hasn’t eaten since the battle with the orcs.  It’s been several days... hmm.  He decides to eat regardless.  Scratching his head, he mutters, “Arr.”

Vito, meanwhile, is dicing with the folk in the corner, chatting them up and trying to catch the local rumors.  He comes to the party’s table about twenty minutes later with a better understanding of the local politics.

It seems that the election has four contenders trying to be voted in as the new Governor.  In addition to Tangus the Brilliant, a priest of Galador who is campaigning largely on a “keep adventurers out of Poppin” sort of platform, there is a rich fellow named Ooluts (the guy who’s throwing the party in a few days) who, as near as Vito has been able to ascertain, has no program to speak of; Vastter Holmes, a peasant whose campaign centers around redistributing wealth to the poor; and some halfling named Zenvo Dalais.  “Apparently this Zenvo frequents this bar,” Vito tells the group, “and I hear he’s quite the performer.  But again, I’m not sure that he has much of a program.”

The party downs a few rounds of drinks, relaxing and enjoying the atmosphere despite the suspicious looks they draw from some of the locals.  After all, it’s hard to conceal the fact that they’re adventurers between their armor and weapons, travel gear, scars and obviously travel-worn gear.  Still, nobody hassles them.  Evening is falling outside when the room falls into a hush as a halfling enters the tavern with a flourish.  

“Good evening, friends!” he cries brightly to the crowd, and a cheer goes up.  He beams at the room in general, tosses a wink at Longburns and whips his gaze across the party of strangers.  “Well, it’s good to see you all again!  Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say the drinks were on me!”  There’s some good-natured laughter, and then the halfling calls out, “Longburns- a round for the house on me, my good dwarf!”  The crowd cheers again as the halfling- clearly, this must be the Zenvo Dalais that Vito heard about- says, “Not that I’d try to buy your votes, oh no; I don’t have the money to compete with Ooluts.  I hear he’s throwing a big party to try to get us all to vote for him.”  He pauses, looks about craftily, and continues, “If you ask me, the way to do it is to go to his party, drink his wine, eat his food, smoke his pipe weed- and vote for me!”  There’s some more laughter.  “In fact, he surely doesn’t stand a chance in this election.  Why, we all know whose side God’s on, don’t we?”  He chuckles.  “Yes, if you ask Tangus, we might as well skip the election.  But... well... if God’s on his side, I have just one question.”  He pauses again, making sure the crowd’s attention is on him.  “Why is he on Dorla at all?”  The bar bursts into collective laughter again.  “Yes, I may get a laugh or two, but at least it’s on purpose, my friends!”

“This guy’s funny,” says Vito at the party’s table.  The rest of the party nods agreement as they watch Zenvo whip out a pair of spoons and start playing the entire bar as an instrument, telling jokes and satirizing his opposition the whole time.  His display is impressive, captivating the room.  Soon the room is buying him rounds of drinks, and when he pauses from his display, Vito decides to join in on that.  “A drink for our friend Zenvo,” he calls out to Longburns.  “And could you ask him to grace us with his presence for a moment?”  The dwarf bartender makes no promises for Zenvo, but gladly takes the halfling’s money and passes the message to Zenvo.

Zenvo is making the rounds, clapping shoulders, shaking hands, telling jokes; but soon enough he winds his way to the party’s table.  “Hello, strangers!” he cries cheerily.  “Thank you for the drink!”

“Why, thank you, Zenvo, for your fabulous entertainment,” Vito answers.  “From one halfling to another, it seems only right that I repay you with a fine malted beverage.”  The two shake hands, and Vito introduces the rest of the group, then settles down to business.  “So tell me, Zenvo,” he says expansively, “I can’t help but notice the anti-adventurer sentiment in your town.  How do you feel about such matters?”

Zenvo looks the group over shrewdly.  “Well, adventurers do bring danger into town, and they have, in the past, caused problems.  But of course, they’ve also done great favors for Poppin in the past.  Why, Poppin was originally founded by adventurers.  And they tend to help the economy by bringing in more money and lots of business.  Why do you ask?”

 “My friend,” Vito answers ingratiatingly, “it seems that your town is getting ready for an election.  My other friends here and I couldn’t help but notice all the posters outside featuring a fellow named Tangus.  Well, a lot of these seem to be inciting anti-adventurer sentiment.  I can’t help but think that your town would be better-served by another, different Governor than him.  A kind fellow, less likely to bring down the wrath of adventurers on this fine place.  Someone, perhaps, like yourself.”

“Ahh... you’re offering to help me, then?”

“Perhaps.  One favor deserves another, if you know what I mean.”

“Ah, of course.  And what is it you need, my friends?”

“Well, we aren’t really all that interested in staying here for long.  In fact, we’re seeking transportation to Dorhaus.  We really just want to go home, where we have many matters requiring our attention.  Perhaps you could help us find a ship?”

A shadow seems to fall over Zenvo’s face.  “Unfortunately, my friend, there are no ships leaving Poppin at the moment.”

“Why’s that, arr?” asks Clambake.

Zenvo sighs heavily.  “There are... troubles at the harbor.  But I’m no expert on such things.  Some sort of fungus or something.  The person you should ask about these problems is the harbormistress, Bentricle.”

The group and Zenvo chat about local conditions and politics for some time, with the halfling bard impressing them all with his quick wit and insight.  He laughs at their suggestion that he join them; “I’m no adventurer,” he protests, “I’m just an entertainer!  Besides, if I was an adventurer, no one in this place would vote for me!”  

“Well, is there any way we could help you?” asks Krunkshank, quite drunk by now.

“Hmmm...” Zenvo seems thoughtful for a moment, then says, “Well, first off, due to the unpopularity of adventurers around here, I’d say the first thing you can do is not admit to be associated with me.  Now, if you were to clear up the mess at the harbor and let Bentricle know I ‘talked you into it’ it might improve my standing considerably with the sailors and fishermen around here.”  He winks at them.

By this time, full dark has fallen.  Droidi, looking somewhat uncomfortable (and still disguised by the orc ring), tells the group he’ll meet them at the Drinking Dwarves in the morning; he’s not comfortable sleeping in a town, and departs with his riding lizard to find a nice tree out of town to sleep under.  Zenvo moves back to the center of the room to do some shadow puppets, and the rest of our heroes finish their drinks and head off down the street, a little drunk, to find this Mulled Mead place and sleep it off.  Come morning, they decide, after they break their fasts they’ll meet up with Droidi and then go to check out the problem at the harbor.

Vito, however, is mulling over the message that Zenvo innuendo’d to him.  It seems he may be able to make some valuable friends in this place....




Next update: More of Zenvo, the return of Horbin the Holy, and what's up at the harbor?  And, most importantly, how can I post harbormistress Bentricle's dialogue???  She's got the foulest mouth of any npc or pc I've ever seen since I started gaming in 1980!  Well, we'll see what I can do....

Oh yeah, for anyone who hasn't already done so, please vote in my poll about whether to stat things out in story hour threads....


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## the Jester (Sep 7, 2002)

Well, here's a link to the thread where I'm going to be posting stats and stuff from this story hour: Stuff from my story hour

If anyone's interested, there it is!  I've posted the Fairy Avengers (from very early on in the story), and plan to post a bunch more stuff, some of which will be reposts from the homebrews and house rules forums, prolly including the mist spider, glumring, glum creature template, Titus and his buddies (including the gear hounds), the clockwork master prc, etc.  I'll prolly also repost the elementalist class since both Anvar and Krunkshank are elementalists.  And I'll post Anvar's stats... er, once he reappears in a little while, with the [SNIP] stuck on him, as well as Titus.

Didn't forget about those two, did ya?


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## the Jester (Sep 9, 2002)

*Time for some SALTY dialogue!*

MODERATORS: I did a little self-censoring here, but if you want me to do a little more just let me know...






Droidi wakes up with the dawn, pondering his mom’s advice: “Go seek out an item of great power, an artifact!  There are ways you can use one... secret ways... that will make you, like me, a GOD!  But beware- the path to an artifact is fraught with danger.  You may be betrayed by lesser beings (for such as us have no need of friends), besieged by horrible monsters, attacked by guardians who would stop any from taking the item you would use.  Show no mercy to any creatures that oppose you, and be steadfast in your quest and all you desire may fall into your grasp.”

That Decanter of Endless Gloom- that was his first attempt, but finding it?  Impossible, at least without powers currently beyond him.  Bah!  Other opportunities will come.  And the animals are his friends.  

He drops from the tree he slept in and wanders slowly towards town on his lizard, looking for animals as he does so.  Nothing of note pops up, but you never know; maybe tomorrow.  He gets to the Drinking Dwarves and is surprised to find Captain Clambake there, already up and drinking rum.  “Arr,” Clambake calls in greeting, tipping his captain hat at the orc-disguised druid.  Droidi orders breakfast, noting with curiosity that Clambake barely touches his own meal.

It takes an hour for the rest of the party to gather, and about another hour for them to eat a hearty breakfast.  Then the group sets out for the harbor, chatting amicably as they do.  By now they’ve all bathed and washed their clothes, and though the locals still look at them with suspicion, our heroes are in a good mood.  It only brightens when they spot an old friend thought dead on the street- Horbin the Holy, who they thought was lost in the Isles of Mist!  A joyful reunion ensues, leading directly to a return to the Drinking Dwarves.  The group catches up, and Horbin tells them that the Gloom’s assault on his senses and will was so severe that he’s not entirely certain how he got out.  He remembers- vaguely- a ship, tattered and ghostly, and being pitched overboard.  Then he recalls being fished out by a fishing boat and taken here.  A few days’ convalescence has seen him as good as new, but he had little hope of finding a friendly face here.  He’s happy to have beaten those odds, that’s for sure.

“Arr,” Clambake nods.  “Luck is with us.”

Horbin eats a few eggs and some fish stew, the whole group takes a few moments to down another beer or four, and they wobble out the door towards the harbor again.  The group finds their way there relatively quickly; the sun is not yet overhead by the time they get to the docks, and there they see a fascinating and disturbing sight. 

Strange grey and yellow fungi-like growth is choking the water and it looks like it has grown over most of the ships too.  A number of sailors are clustering around idly, spitting and talking about it.  The party notes that the entire harbor is covered in the stuff, and it even seems to spill over into the open ocean to a small extent, where the waves wash it out to sea.  Droidi leans over to scrutinize it and declares that it’s a type of fungus that typically grows underground: why it seems to be flourishing so well here, in the sun, is a mystery to him.

A few inquiries of the sailors about the whereabouts of the harbormistress lead our heroes to a lighthouse.  Krunkshank knocks at the door and a window slams open above them.

“WHAT THE F**K DO YOU F**KERS WANT?” a female voice yells at them.  “WHO THE F**K ARE YA??”  A face appears, squinting out at them- and she snarls out again.  “WELL, SPEAK UP YOU DUMB SH*TS!  I don’t f**king have all f**king day!  Speak up or get your little sh*t bastard asses away from my lighthouse!  I’ve got lotsa f**king work ta do, and no time for a**holes!”

“We want to help with the harbor,” Krunkshank calls up.

“WELL WHY DIDN’T YA F**KING SAY SO, YA F**KING IDIOTS!!” the harbormistress yells.  “I’ll be right f**king down, ya a**holes!”  A moment later the foul-mouthed woman emerges from the lighthouse.  She’s dressed practically, with a long scar across one cheek.  Her hair is cropped severely short and she peers at the party as if she’s examining a gull’s droppings.  “Well?” she demands crossly.  “What the f**k do you think you know about all this f**king sh*t??”  She gestures violently at the fungus growth.

“Well, ah, it shouldn’t be growing here,” Droidi begins, but she cuts him off.

“Well, no sh*t!  Ain’t you the smart one!  Tell me something I don’t f**kin’ know, you stupid a**hole!”  Krunkshank chuckles inwardly.  This woman talking dirty to him like this is really turning him on.  “Well?” she goes on.  “Ya got anything f**kin’ new to tell me, or are you just trying to see how much of my f**kin’ time you can f**king waste?”

“Look,” says Horbin, “we’re here to help.  We want to know what you know about it.”

She glares at him, spits on the ground.  “Oh great, another bunch a’ useless f**king help!”  She sneers at them.  “Well, I can tell ya this- it ain’t normally like this in MY f**kin’ harbor.  I keep a clean place, and this is REALLY PISSING ME OFF!!!”

“Yeah, we can tell,” Horbin deadpans.

“Arr,” adds Clambake somberly.

The harbormistress sighs, shakes her head, pulls a flask from her pocket and takes a big swig, then offers it around.  Krunkshank snatches it up and takes a drink of the fiery liquid himself, then passes it around to the braver members of the group, all of whom discover that the harbormistress is a drinker of strong drink.  Meanwhile, she continues cussing at them as she fills them in.  Apparently the fungus has only recently appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and it has closed the harbor.  Ships can neither enter nor leave, and it’s now actually growing on some of the ships trapped at the docks, weakening their planks.  “It’s no f**king good,” she concludes.  

A few inquiries from the group, however, offer one small insight.  Apparently, one of the clerics from a local shrine to a deity called Old Grandmother was investigating the situation.  The party gets directions to her church and then sets out to find it.  “Yes,” Vito slips into the conversation, “our friend Zenvo asked us to look into things here.  If we can take care of your problem, I hope you’ll think kindly of him in the election.”

“That little f**ker, huh?” harbormistress Bentricle snarls.  “Aye, he plays a mean bottle for such a little bastard, don’t he?  Well, either way, you fix this damn problem and I’ll give ye what reward I can.  Of course, my office has pretty f**kin’ limited resources, especially now.  I’ve had to compensate several of the traders that f**king come through here for their time, so funds are low, but I have something you sh*theads would prolly like that we normally reserve for f**kin’ emergencies.  Clean this gods-damned mess up and it’s f**kin’ yours!”

Encouraged by the thought of a reward, the party sets out for the shrine to Old Grandmother....




Next update: our heroes continue their investigation, and- as all city and town adventures eventually include- head into the sewers!


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## Welverin (Sep 9, 2002)

*Re: Re: A whole plethora of updates, cool!*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *Well, if you haven't seen it yet I posted a poll about statting things out in the story hour itself, what's your opinion on that'n?  Here's the link in case it falls off the main page: Stats in story hours?*




Yep, but you probably knew that already, seeing as how it took me a couple of days to reply here.



> *As to Captain Clambake and the pirate outfit- well, let's just say that there's more to it, which you'll see as time goes on...*




Just as long as we find out somehow.


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## the Jester (Sep 9, 2002)

*About religions...*

For the last several thousand years, the Forinthian Empire has been the ascendant political and religious force- well, everywhere in Cydra.  It has spread like the black death in Europe, overwhelming local cultures and forcing the worship of Galador on the whole world.  

Galador, the Lord, the Law, the Light: he ignited the sun one million years ago.  According to Forinthian dogma, he is the One True God.  All others are Bleak, the Galadorian Adversary, the Darkness, the Black Sun.  Worshipers who claim to follow other religions are merely deceived.  About two centuries ago, Dexter Nadly, the Son of the Light, appeared, and though he was at first denounced as a heretic, soon enough his ways- which were far more tolerant of other religions than the mainstream- took hold.  Eventually, he sacrificed himself to save us all from our sins, casting himself into Bleak's Maw.

Of course, the presence and worship of Dexter has led to many fractures in the Galadorian religion.  Conservative Galadorians see him as a wise man, a teacher, and an example for all the rest of us to follow.  The Orthodox sects revere Dexter as God, as well as Galador (they're the same, and Dexter was dispatched from Heaven to show us the way).  And recently, Dexter's descendant, Prayzose, became Emperor of Forinthia and then subsequently began finding himself revered as God-Emperor.  So now there are three primary sects with the addition of the Imperial Galadorian sect.

Older religions still exist, of course, though they're mostly driven underground.  Sailors revere the Sea Queen, the elves of Gorel have their hidden pantheon, the cannabix and elementalist faiths exist in small numbers, and there are many more, but few are out in the open.  Such churches and shrines are typically shut down (or worse) by the authorities as soon as, or soon after, they're discovered.

Which is why the level of freedom of religion found in Poppin surprises our heroes.  "Who's Old Grandmother?" wonders Vito, and Horbin has an answer.

The old religion of Pesh had a pantheon that was a family of gods.  Much like Pesh's political system- a cantrium, ruled by a family whose oldest member is in charge- the members of the divine family are ranked from oldest to youngest.  Old Grandmother, naturally, is the eldest of them all.

The group finds their way to the shrine devoted to her by late afternoon.  It's small but well-tended, and since Pesh is a powerful merchant state and member of the Free Trade Alliance (FTA) it seems that merchants and the like must make sacrifices there, for its trappings are obviously those of a wealthy faith.  A wan-looking human boy of about 15 years is dusting shelves and the like as our heroes arrive.  "Hi there," Captain Clambake greets him cheerfully,  "We're looking for Mistress Jahn."

The boy's face falls and he look like he's about to cry.  "She's not here," he says softly.

The party questions the lad and determines that she was investigating the "curse" on the harbor.  Well, yeah- that's what the harbormistress told them.  Nothing new there.  What is new is that Toufe, as the boy is called, knows a little bit about what she'd found out: the fungus was coming from the sewers, somehow.  The group exchanges distasteful glances: didn't they just get clean for the first time in months?  Damn.  "She's been gone for a few days, now," Toufe says, his voice cracking.  "Oh, please find her!"  After pumping the lad for information, our heroes learn that, whatever the source of the fungus, Mistress Jahn thought it lay at the bottom of the sewers- the place all the sewage drains to. 

A few more inquiries and the party determines that Toufe is not the adventuring type, nor does the shrine have any other clerics or potions.  But the kid tells them of a place called the Bubbling Beaker where they might be able to find a few magic potions or wands for sale, so- as evening falls- they seek it.  There, they meet a jolly fat wizard named Mogul.  He has piercings in his nose, ears and neck, a shaved head and well-oiled skin.  He's possibly the friendliest person to adventurers that they've met since arriving in Poppin.  "Mogul has potions, yes!" he cries, rubbing his hands together.  "Mogul has a few wands, too, and he will make more for you if you wish.  Oh, and scrolls!  Mogul will make items to order if he can, as long as your money is good, yes!"

Though he can't make healing potions himself, it turns out that the dark-skinned man has an arrangement with the local clerics who can, and he's the one guy in town to sell such items.  So the party buys out his stock of healing potions, taking a few other items for good measure.  They briefly consider buying a wand of identify, but Captain Clambake can manifest that power psionically for free so they decline.  The group sells him an almost-depleted wand of haste, takes a few more potions off his hands, and departs.  By now it's full dark, so they head back to the Drinking Dwarves to fortify themselves, deciding to head into the sewers in the morning.  There are more election posters everywhere, including many from Ooluts about his open party. 

At the Dwarves they are treated to another stirring performance by Zenvo, who seems adept at playing bottles with differing levels of liquid in them, and they spend a few gold on food and drink.  Longburns, the bartender, remembers them and treats them well- after all, adventurers or not, they're spending a lot in his establishment- and what will prove to be a profitable relationship for all involved continues to cement itself.  Droidi leaves town for the night again, and the group eventually staggers back to the Mulled Mead to sleep off their drunken stupor.

Twelve hours later, they've found a manhole cover leading into the sewers.  As they descend into it, the locals watch them curiously and the group overhears someone mutter something about "stinking adventurers."

Into the sewers, then...








Next time: Horbin gets a nemesis, our heroes find out what happened to Mistress Jahn, and I get to use the name of my favorite demon prince.....


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## the Jester (Sep 10, 2002)

*The best use of a shatter spell to date in my campaign- and it was AGAINST the pcs!*

“It stinks down here,” Krunkshank growls through his hand as the party drops into the sewers.

There are two walkways, one about 5’ above the other.  The effluvia itself flows along sluggishly about 3’ below the lower walkway.  The party decides- for the moment- to stick to the lower walkway, and they begin their exploration.  They have virtually no idea of where they’re going, though.  

The sewer drips with moisture, and a cloying warmth is in the air.  The group is uneasy as they travel along, hoping to avoid any nasty slips into the filth.  Horbin casts water breathing “just in case,” but the thought of breathing- THAT- is sickening to all of them.  He also lays a water walk on the group (except Droidi, who asks the priest of Dexter to instead enchant his giant lizard mount).  As they move along, they debate whether the water walk will work on sewage, and eventually decide that it’s a mixture of water and less savory solids.  So yeah, it’ll probably allow them to walk on the surface, but they’ll get poop on their shoes.  Ick.

The stench would be overwhelming, but these guys are adventurers, and let’s face it: they’ve fought troglodytes and filth birds, traipsed through troll lairs full of droppings at least as nasty, been exposed to weird alchemical pools of suspect nature- they’ve been around stank before.  It isn’t pleasant, but they’ll be all right.  Some of them cover their noses with cloth, but some of them don’t bother.  Heck, some of them are dwarves; they’ve eaten dwarven food, so they’ve probably smelled it cooking, right?  There can’t be much worse in the world than dwarven food.  Even this stinky hole in the ground can’t compare to a kitchen for a dwarven army on the move.

The passages stay relatively straight, but seem to slope slightly downward.  There are side branches here and there, but mostly the group stays on a straight path.  And then there light falls upon a huge tower of nastiness, a pile of poop and worse, almost like a shrine looming out of the center of the sewage- but who on earth would build a shrine here?  And-

“Is that a body?” Bolfol whispers. 

Indeed, on the top of the bizarre pillar of excrement is what appears to be a dismembered body.  The shock of seeing it distracts our heroes for a moment, and then a pervasive sense of doom falls over them... and things in the sluggishly-flowing sewage start moving towards them.

Vito screams, “LOOK OUT!” and casts a spiritual weapon.

Chaos breaks out.  Captain Clambake, using his psionic abilities, runs up the walls, clinging to the ceiling like a spider.  Droidi backs his lizard up, whipping his dagger out, calling out, “What?  Where?”  But Horbin sees the movement, and smashes his holy mace into the thing in the effluvia- and it splits in two.  

“Dexter’s nadlies!” he screams.

Krunkshank blasts a fireball forward into the muck, making the stench much worse than before, and the entire group barely suppresses an urge to retch.  Then he leaps atop the mound of crap that first drew their attention- and realizes with horror just how unstable it is.  It wobbles and collapses, and he drops down onto the surface of the liquid with a strangled cry.  Worse, a glistening pseudopod extends from the mixture and grabs him, burning him with acid and trying to envelope and consume him!  He screams, and near Droidi more sickening, wet pseudopods thrash out at the lizard and snap its neck in a single set of powerful blows.  Captain Clambake hurls a flask of alchemist’s fire at the creature that’s attacking Droidi’s mount, then throws his shield at the hideous ooze holding Krunkshank- and watches in horror as his returning shield dissolves with a hissing sound!  Horbin and Vito both call upon their deities for bursts of sound, trying to stun the oozes, but there are too many of them to get them all- and the mindless beasts don’t even slow down.  

Krunkshank struggles free of the disgusting embrace of the creature holding him and staggers a few feet away across the surface of the brown water, then channels elemental fire and flame strikes the creature, but this time the fire sets off an explosion of sewer gasses.  The ooze burns and crisps, dying, but he and several other party members are also badly hurt.  Droidi roars in rage at the monster that slew his animal companion, draws in a deep breath, and spits out a cone of billowing, corrosive gas at it.  Tendrils emerge from it, smashing him back further.  The druid cries out and falters, dropping to one knee on the slimy walkway.

But the fight is getting better for the party.  At least one, maybe two of the oozes have been destroyed.  It seems that only two remain.  Droidi hurls a flask of acid at the thing attacking him- and then, to the entire party’s horror, a humanoid form seems to rise up from it, a part of it.  Glaring, it roars, “JUIBLEX WILL DESTROY YOU!”- and casts a spell, shattering Horbin’s symbol of Dexter!  Horbin screams, his eyes going wide as the monster slips under the surface of the muck.  

A searing light from Krunkshank finishes the other monster, but the one that shattered Horbin’s holy symbol is gone.  Clearly, it was badly wounded; but just as clearly, it remains a threat.

“I am so pissed off,” Horbin says through gritted teeth...






Next time: These two old men on a porch point and laugh at our sewage-covered heroes, Horbin stays pissed off, the election gets closer, Vito makes some friends, and where does that sewer go anyway?

Meanwhile, I'll post the cleric of Juiblex in my Rogues' Gallery forum for anyone who's interested!


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## Welverin (Sep 10, 2002)

[HORACIO]Great update![/HORACIO]


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## Piratecat (Sep 11, 2002)

That's great! I love Horbin's swear.


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## the Jester (Sep 11, 2002)

Our heroes travel to the nearest manhole and ascend a rickety, rotting ladder covered in filth.  They find themselves in a street crowded with people, but as they clamber out the crowd moves away with a collection of muttered sounds of disgust.  From a second story window a rotting tomato flies and hits Bolfol in the face.  “Get outta here, you stinking adventurers!” a wavering female voice cries.  The party notices a pair of old men staring at them from a nearby porch, drinking tea and frowning in their direction.  Krunkshank shoots them a dirty look and the two hurriedly move inside.  There are some benefits to being feared.

Our stinky adventurers walk rapidly to the sea, where they rinse themselves off before heading back to the Mulled Mead.  Horbin is fuming the whole while, muttering, “I can’t believe he shattered my holy symbol!”  The whole group pays for baths and takes the time to clean up, then Horbin stomps off to find a church of Dexter.  It takes him a little while, but not too long; after all, even though Poppin allows a great deal of religious freedom, most of the townsfolk are Galadorian, so there are several Dexterite churches.  He makes a large donation and comes back with a new holy symbol.  By this time the rest of the party has moved off to their traditional watering hole, so he heads off to join them at the Dwarves.  They all take their time drinking heavily except for Droidi, who doesn’t seem to drink, and all of them eat a big meal except for Clambake, who hasn’t been eating much lately for some reason.  

“Arr,” he comments glumly.

Eventually most of the group heads back to the inn to sleep, while Droidi goes back into the wilds, saddened by the loss of his lizard, and Vito elects to stick around the Drinking Dwarves for a while.  Captain Clambake isn’t tired yet, so he stays there as well, drinking a vast quantity.  Unbeknownst to the rest of the group, he has an assignation to keep.  Indeed, not much later a fellow joins him and they talk briefly, then leave together. 

In the morning the party reassembles.  Droidi arrives at the Drinking Dwarves first and finds Clambake still there.  The rest soon wander in over the course of a couple of hours.  Horbin announces that he really wants to kill that priest of Juiblex- not a big surprise.  The group spends a few moments discussing the situation.

“What about that body?” Krunkshank asks. 

“Do you think it was that cleric we heard about, who was investigating the fungus?” Horbin wonders.  “That might be another one we owe that slime priest!”

“I need a new shield, arr,” says Clambake.  “And what about hiring us some mercenaries?”

In the end, the group decides to spend a day or two re-equipping themselves, seeking magic weapons in town and perhaps finding some strong arms to help out.  Horbin bites his tongue; he’s got a grudge and he wants to take care of it, but going it alone surely isn’t the best way.  So he goes along with the party while they wander the town.  They find a place called the Forinthian Swordsmith’s, not because the smith is Forinthian but because he uses good Forinthian steel (“most of the metal here on Dorla is very low-grade,” he confides in them).  The party gets along fairly well with him; he’s a dwarf, and unlike most of the town he seems to think that adventurers are okay.  (“They got lots of coin,” he smiles.)  Clambake gets a new shield.

Then they find a place called the House of the Steel Coins.  It’s the local mercenaries’ guild, but when they try to hire on, the head guy- a half-orc named Blunder who seems none too friendly- glares at them suspiciously and declares, “Nope.  I ain’t sending my people into the sewers with no adventurers.”

“Why not?” asks Horbin in exasperation.

“’Twould be a death sentence.  I know how your kind are!  Always lookin’ for monsters, plunderin’ tombs- hah!  Not a job for a mercenary.”  He folds his massive arms across his chest.  “Nothin’ doin’.”

The party argues and tries to persuade him, and finally Vito manages to strike a deal with him: they’ll hire Blunder himself, for the stiff fee of 150 gp a day.  “At least we won’t have to give him a share of the loot,” Horbin mutters.  Blunder shoots him a dirty look.

By that point it’s night again, and the group goes through their typical hard-drinking routine.  “Say, Clambake,” Krunkshank says, “aren’t you hungry?  You haven’t touched a bite of food all day.”

“Arr, a little ale’s all I need.”  Nonetheless, Captain Clambake picks at a meal, mostly moving the food around on his plate.  Sure does put away a lot of drink, though.

Feeling ready, the party notes that Ooluts’ party is the next night.  They decide to attend, since it’s open to anyone who wants to go.  “Maybe we can spread the good word for our friend Zenvo,” Vito says.  “And in the morning, we can go try to find your nemesis,” he adds, nodding at Horbin.

The next day Vito tells the group that he’s learned a little bit more about the sewers from the new friends he made in town.  “It seems that this town was actually founded in part by adventurers, and they also found a natural cave underneath it.  The sewers connect to it and drain down into it.  I suggest that we try to find this cave.  Perhaps it has something to do with our quest to free up the harbor.”

“Yeah, after we kill that slime bastard,” Horbin mutters.

They collect Blunder and head to the manhole cover that they emerged from previously, as it’s close to where they fought  the creature before.  When they get there, the two old men are sitting on their porch again, drinking tea.  When they see the party tromp down the street towards the sewer entrance, they give them dirty looks, but when Krunkshank sends a glare their way the two hurry inside again, and the dwarf elementalist laughs.

“Well, down the hole,” he says, more cheerfully than he feels.




Next update: verifying the body's identity, some easy fights, the second (not the last) fight with the Juiblexian, and the drain.  What's going on down there, anyway?


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## the Jester (Sep 11, 2002)

*About those two guys on the porch*

I tried to make those two guys on the porch as much like the two guys on the balcony in the Muppet Show as possible.  They aren't important, in case anyone's wondering, but they will pop up again.  Just thought I'd clue ya in.


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## the Jester (Sep 11, 2002)

The group returns to the scene of their battle with the oozes.  The pile of crap that was the strange pillar/altar thing remains where it fell, toppled by Krunkshank’s bold leap.  It has become something of an isle of poop in the middle of the sluggishly-flowing sewage. 

The party searches distastefully through it until they find the dismembered body that they saw.  They decide to leave most of it behind, but take the head to show to Toufe, hoping he can identify it.  Horbin remains on guard, his holy mace drawn and ready lest the Juiblexian reappear.  He’s itching for a rematch.  But, though the party spends more than a few moments waiting around, there is no sign of the strange ooze-like evil cleric.

Eventually, they go on their way.  They have other things to do down here, after all.  They start trying to find their way to the place where the sewer allegedly drains into the lower caves beneath Poppin.  The sewage seems to gradually get deeper as they head to the east, so the group heads to the north.  Horbin keeps looking around for the Juiblexian, but he doesn’t see it.  Before too long, the party does have a minor battle with four strange, disgusting humanoids that swim in the sewage, even under the surface- filthy little meazels, and easily dispatched.  

When the party finally gives up after a long stinky day, they head back up, and then once again douse themselves in the ocean before seeking a bath.  They decide to try again the next day.  Before they get into some serious drinking, they take the head to the shrine of Old Grandmother.  “Be strong, lad,” says Horbin, placing a hand on Toufe’s shoulder.  “Was this your mistress?”  Krunkshank pulls the head out of a bag and the boy bursts into tears.  Well, that answers that.  Though Vito tries to persuade him to join the party in hunting down Mistress Jahn’s killer, he declares that he must tend the shrine; after all, there are no other clerics of the faith here.  He must finish his training on his own.

Then they remember that it's the night of Ooluts' party, so they go out to the town square.  They find tables laden with food and drink, lots of people, and lots of political posters.  They eat and drink their fill, get to hear Ooluts talk about how important it is that someone with the money to help out is in charge, and find the whole thing rather amusing.  An informal poll of some of the local folk there seems to indicate that throwing big parties is a good way to get some votes.  Also, it seems that Ooluts has been throwing money at a lot of the local businesses, including the Drinking Dwarves.  "I like Zenvo better as a person," Longburns confides to them after the party, once they've all gone back to the Dwarves, "but I think Ooluts has my vote."

"You really think he'll keep giving away all his money once he's elected?  I really think someone like Zenvo might be more in the town's interest," Vito responds, but the dwarven barkeep just shrugs.

Horbin is in a foul mood, Clambake isn’t hungry, and Droidi doesn’t like the city, so things are about where they were the previous night.  Again, Clambake moves some food around his plate and stays at the Dwarves long after the rest of the group retires.  “Is he getting any sleep?” Bolfol asks as he and Vito leave, but Vito just shrugs.  

Later that night, Vito goes to get his tattoo, in accordance with the deal he’s made with the Magpie Gang.  Oops, did I say that out loud?  Never mind.  Nobody needs to know about that.

The next day, the old men on the porch seem to be talking about our heroes as they get ready to descend back into the sewers.  “Arr,” Captain Clambake calls to them, tipping his hat; and they hurriedly go inside their house.  He snorts a laugh, then they all try not to breathe too deeply as they move down the rotting ladder.  The stink could kill a horse, but the party’s almost used to it by now.  There’s more than a hint of the stench left on them as they start creeping along the walkway again.  Clambake initiates his spider climb ability and keeps to the ceiling.  

“I cast an augury this morning,” Horbin announces, “and it leads me to believe that our best bet of finding slime boy is to go back to his nasty little shrine.”  

Well, since the gods generally know what they’re talking about, the party goes back there again.  They return to the isle of poop and scan the effluvia for any signs of movement, all too aware of how easily the oozes hid before.  Nobody sees anything at first.  Then- 

“There!” Krunkshank cries out, mentally thanking the elements for his Third Eye Aware, and channels elemental forces.  An eerie green glow surrounds something just on the surface of the sewage.  The shapeless creature drops beneath the surface, out of sight, and Horbin calls out a prayer to Dexter.  The party feels holy power invigorating them, and Clambake casts a spell of protection from evil on himself.  Krunkshank readies a counterspell while Droidi whips out his dagger, hoping to avenge his lizard.  The adventurers keep invoking more magical protections- and, under the surface of the sewage, so does the Juiblexian... not that they can tell, of course.  And then it rises, swinging its pseudopods at Horbin.  He ducks them and responds with a searing blast of light straight out of Heaven, and the monster slips back under the surface.  Though the party remains ready for a few minutes, it soon becomes apparent that the creature has slipped away again.

“Dammit!” Horbin curses.  “Ooh, I want to kill that thing!”

Traveling further through the sewers, the party meets another group of meazels and again dispatches them with ease.  Then they give up for the day, return to the surface, and go through their typical sea-bath-drink routine.  Horbin heads to a local Dexterite church to pray.  While he’s there he asks the local priests if they can offer him any aid, and they assign an acolyte to his service- a young lad of 14 named Till.  “Great,” Horbin says, “thanks.”  But the acolyte is starry-eyed at the prospect of serving “such a great servant of the Light as you!”  He’s more than happy to do the cleric’s laundry and offers to be his shield bearer.  Horbin immediately starts coming up with ways to keep the boy out of trouble.  If only he knew how useful Till would prove in the coming weeks...




Next time: all right, so we didn't get to the drain just yet; NEXT time, I swear!  Our heroes find out where the fungus came from and hear several differing stories about who and why.  Droidi makes new friends, and what happens when you start casting spells at politicians?  All in our next (couple of) updates...


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## Rune (Sep 12, 2002)

Gah!  It's so good!

I love high-fantasy stuff and your campaign is _very_ creative!

It has a very rich and flavorful fantasy feel to it.

I'm still catching up, but I have to say that I love the singing worm and the extradimensional space is just great!

And I'm definately going to have to steal the earthgate idea!

Would it be possible to get more information out of you about the Galador/Dexter/Prayzose trinity?

I don't normally do this in other people's story hours, but judging from your style, I think you might find my own story hour(s) intriguing.  I invite you to follow the link in my sig and take a look, if you have a spare moment.

Also, if you haven't seen it already, I encourage you to take a look at mmadsen's Little Changes with Big Flavor thread.  Your story hour instantly made me think of it.

Keep up the excellent storytelling!


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## Dougal DeKree (Sep 12, 2002)

**grin**

Hey Jester,

haven't caught up yet, but i like the way you do freaky things with your players! 

Cheers!

Dougal DeKree, retired Gnomish Illusionist

edited to remove my plea for the chaos-list, which was below the next post, greedy me ;o)


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## the Jester (Sep 12, 2002)

*Hey Rune!  About Dexter and Galador and Prayzose*



			
				Rune said:
			
		

> *I'm still catching up, but I have to say that I love the singing worm and the extradimensional space is just great!
> 
> And I'm definately going to have to steal the earthgate idea!
> 
> ...




Hey there Rune, thanks for the compliments!  I love to get feedback, and it's really cool to know what folks like.

The singing worm thingy is a garmorm, a 2e Planescape monster that I really liked and never had a chance to use until the game I detailed in the story hour there.  I'll post its stats in my rogues' gallery thread for ya.  I posted it months ago on the homebrew monsters forum, back when I was getting ready to use it on the poor bastards.  

The earthgate is only one type of elemental gate.  The more common ones (since my campaign world is a water world type place) are seagates, which are mostly uncharted and have taken pcs on some pretty wild rides in the past.  You don't usually know when you go through one, so it's possible to end up thousands of miles from home without even knowing it.  Also, they aren't really easy to detect (there's a 5th level spell, Reveal Elemental Gate, that shows them, but things like detect magic don't usually except in cases where other magic's in play).

I gave a few more details about the Galador/Dexter/Prayzose trilogy above, from the point of view of your average man on the street, but I'll give you a little more here.  And btw, the Galadorian religion's "Adversary" is Bleak, the Darkness, the Black Sun.  (I understand Cyric in FR is also called the Black Sun, but I only learned that about a year ago, and I've been calling Bleak that for years.  Eh.)

Dexter was actually a pc.  He started out as a NE psionicist (2e) in a party of generally evil characters.  During one of his early adventures he gave his soul to Bleak.  The party pulled off a bunch of evil stuff that eventually brought them into conflict with the church, and he was captured by the Inquisition and tortured until he converted (changing to N align), at which point he had a big B (for Bleak) branded on his forehead.  While he was captured he had a strange fever dream where Galador came to him and said, "Forgive them, my son, they know not what they do."  He was then released and journeyed with Malford, one of the other pcs, leaving the rest of the party shortly.  They eventually both ended up good-aligned and Dexter dual-classed as a cleric of Galador.  But he wasn't a typical cleric; one of his granted powers was the Voice of God.  He'd speak in the Voice and, though people weren't compelled to obey or anything, they _knew_ he was speaking with the Voice of Galador.  So, if they were good Galadorians, they'd take his words to heart.  Dexter faced many moral trials and tribulations over the years, was excommunicated and declared a heretic for his accepting point of view of other religions, eventually was accepted by the mainstream and died in still-mysterious circumstances on Bleak's Maw, a terrible volcano on Forinthia (the center of the Galadorian religion).  Since he'd given his soul to Bleak he went straight to the Abyss, where his soul was tortured mercilessly.  (Trying to get his soul back had been a major quest for him the whole time.)

About a century later he was raised from the dead along with the guy who'd killed him in the first place, Farenth, an npc who'd been responsible for the deaths of many pcs (mostly by manipulating two groups of pcs into fighting each other).  Their conflict continued until Farenth was finally defeated, and Dexter continued on his merry way until a big quest resulted in his assuming the mantle of an entity called the Harvester of Water, who is responsible for creativity and all the new ideas that occur to folks.  This made him functionally immortal but changed him so much that he was no longer even remotely human in his thinking, turning him forevermore into an npc.  (That bit is not known to anyone in the world except a very select few pcs and npcs.)

Dexter started off as a pimply-faced 16-year-old kid full of insecurities.  He had sex once (when he was first alive) with an elf (after casting some divination type spells to make sure it was okay with Galador), and years later other pcs met up with his granddaughter, who was subsequently kidnapped by Dzaram the lich.  What happened to her is unknown, but Prayzose is her descendant.  He appeared during a low point in Forinthia's power and managed to become Emperor.  (He is an npc.)  He has subsequently disappeared and now the Empire is starting to undergo a massive civil war (although few of the pcs in the campaign have learned this yet; many know the Emperor has vanished, it had to do with a revolution on an elven island that a different group played a big part in).

So it's all very complex, actually, and the truth isn't the same as what the man on the street thinks.  Malford, Dexter's companion, has since become a king in his own right and wrote the King Malford version of the Galadron (the Bible of Galadorianism, if you will).  He's also started a religion around himself, and has taken to calling himself God-King Malford.  

Oh yeah- obviously, in my campaign religion is more complicated than simply "gods grant spells to clerics."  Dexter had clerics while he was alive, whose spells came from their faith.  Malford has a few clerics too, likewise granted spells via faith.  I've never statted out any gods imc, not sure I need to; religion is almost like a force or philosophy itself in my view.  

Whew!  That's the gist of it.  I'll have to see if I can get Vic to post a follow up on the topic; he was Dexter's player (and Malford's first cleric, too...)

Hope you enjoyed the background!  Most of my current players don't even know that much about it all!


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## Greybar (Sep 12, 2002)

That's some great background.  I always love when the "what everyone knows" is wrong.  It's often for subtle reasons, and not that someone is really actively lying about it, just a sequence of assumptions and misunderstandings...

But as a fellow GM, I gotta say it must be frustrating.  You had them right there on the edge of the Temple of Elemental Evil, ready to go, and then zip off they go in another direction.  But that Geas is still going get 'em eventually I suppose.

John


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## the Jester (Sep 12, 2002)

Greybar said:
			
		

> *But as a fellow GM, I gotta say it must be frustrating.  You had them right there on the edge of the Temple of Elemental Evil, ready to go, and then zip off they go in another direction.  But that Geas is still going get 'em eventually I suppose.
> 
> John *




Actually, the geas was to find Anvar (who was the ex-apprentice of the guy who cast the geas) and report on his state of health.  They went to the Temple to find Anvar and while they were in Var they sent word to his old master- and part of the deal is that it only lasts for a year and a day.

As for the Temple, they've just set it up for another group, which will come later, I suppose.


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## SeldomSeen (Sep 12, 2002)

Hey Jester,



Hopefully this post gets through.  I am enjoying reading about our adventures.  Playing Krunkshank has been fun, and I hope we get together soon so I can roast more things with massive fireballs and flamestrikes.  After all,  I have not had a chance to play with my new element, Air!  And I still need to try to get together with the with the salty harbor mistress.


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## the Jester (Sep 12, 2002)

SeldomSeen said:
			
		

> *Hey Jester,
> 
> 
> 
> Hopefully this post gets through.  I am enjoying reading about our adventures.  Playing Krunkshank has been fun, and I hope we get together soon so I can roast more things with massive fireballs and flamestrikes.  After all,  I have not had a chance to play with my new element, Air!  And I still need to try to get together with the with the salty harbor mistress. *




AT LAST you made it on the boards!

Hey, everyone, welcome my buddy SeldomSeen to the boards with me!


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## Welverin (Sep 12, 2002)

the Jester said:
			
		

> *
> Hey, everyone, welcome my buddy SeldomSeen to the boards with me! *




Welcome!


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## the Jester (Sep 12, 2002)

By the way, SeldomSeen, would you mine posting Krunkshank's character sheet for reference for folks?  Either here or in the Rogues' Gallery thread I have going?

Thanks!

Update later today or this evening...


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## the Jester (Sep 13, 2002)

*At the Bottom of the Drain!*

At last the heroes follow the sewers to the drain.  It’s the only really large chamber they’ve seen, and the sluggishly-flowing effluvium slowly pours into it from several different tunnels.  The center is a mass of nastiness.  Debris, some of it surprisingly large, is squished up in a fetid mass.  A few occasional bubbles and a slight sag in the center imply that it’s all draining somewhere, but very slowly.  Various members of the party exchange glances.  This could be an ugly journey.

“Well,” says Vito, “I don’t want to go down there.”

“Me neither,” says Captain Clambake.  “Arr.”

“Nope.”  “Not me.”  “No way.”

The stench of the sewage is almost overpowering.  “Maybe we can clear it,” Krunkshank suggests, and the group spends a couple of hours trying.  The remove the largest pieces of debris, including a desk, of all things, and the rate of flow increases- but only slightly.

“Ah, crap,” says Horbin.  “Maybe if we give it until tomorrow...”

The party returns to their traditional manhole cover and ascends the rickety rotten ladder, receiving their traditional greeting from disgusted townsfolk.  They hurry to their traditional sea rinse, and while they're there they decide to harvest some of the fungus and see if it will eat the blockage.  Then it's time for a bath, meal and drink.  As usual, Clambake doesn’t seem to eat much, sticking to the bottle.  Horbin sends Till to clean his things, a task the altar boy looks at with distaste, but his adoration for the adventuring cleric overcomes the stinkiness of his assigned duty.

The next day the group descends again, with Horbin leaving Till above as he did the previous day.  They return to the drain chamber and find it less clogged but still clogged nonetheless.  They throw a bunch of the harbor fungus on it and then decide to try to find out where the sewage is entering the sea.  The only drains they find are too small to fit through, but they decide to check above for another, less disgusting entrance.  This search leads them to a small freehold farm just east of Poppin.  After talking to the farmer, the party decides to check out his well. A couple of water breathing spells later, we were down the well and in an undergound lake with a nasty slug of sewage ascending some 30’, no doubt to the sewers.  The fungus that is infesting the harbor is present, floating atop the tainted water.  The group submerges to try to wash as much of the poop off in the lake’s relative cleanliness, and then Krunkshank spots a submerged creature swimming slowly and quietly away from them, but it exits the range of his darkvision before he can tell exactly where it’s going.

The rest of the group follows Krunkshank after it, variously water walking, spider climbing and swimming.  The group moves cautiously, and in about two hundred yards they find themselves facing a village of small huts that look fashioned out of gigantic mushroom pieces.  Droidi slips the ring of the orc on to disguise his freakish appearance as they get close.  Standing before the huts is a group of over a dozen hulking goblinoid shapes.  “RRR!” the lead one snarls, and in poorly-enunciated Forinthian says, “Who you?  Why you come?”

“Arr,” Captain Clambake responds, “I be Captain Clambake.”

Both groups are on their guard and the tension is high, but it soon becomes apparent that both would rather parlay than melee.  Soon the bugbear leader emerges from a hidden location.  “Me Chagsuuth!” he calls in a voice like thunder.  “Me strongest of bugbears here!”  He pounds his chest like an ape.  

“We’re here about the fungus in the harbor above,” Vito says, ever the diplomat.  “Perhaps you could help us dispose of it.  Maybe you know something about it.”

“Mmm,” Chagsuuth answers, nodding vigorously.  “We know.  We put there!  Your people pollute our waters, make our food die!  Fungus our revenge!”

Soon enough the story comes out.  Apparently, the bugbear village has been in the lake for quite some time.  When the sewage first started draining into the lake, the nutrients increased the food supply.  The fish thrived on it.  But recently, as the pollution levels grew too high, the fish began dying out.  The bugbears’ food dwindled, and the greater portion of the village fled.  Only the diehards, led by Chagsuuth, remain.  Droidi is delighted to discover that the bugbear leader is a druid; Chagsuuth is delighted to find a druid among the party.  This common ground reduces the tension further, and the two groups work out a deal.  If the city will pay the bugbears 500 gp, they will agree to relocate and stop pumping the fungus into the harbor.  “It die then,” Chagsuuth confides.  “It only still there because Chagsuuth still pump it in.  Me make it grow with nature magic.”  The party agrees, paying the bugbears off up front.  And then they receive a little surprise.  A crafty look comes into Chagsuuth’s eyes.  “Since you such nice people, Chagsuuth tell one more thing.  This not our idea.  We told to do this.”

“Told?” Vito exclaims.  “By whom?”

“Shiny cleric of big light above,” comes the answer.

“Tangus the Brilliant,” breathes Droidi.

The party moves off to discuss this for a minute, and at once Horbin says, “He’s lying.  I can see it in his eyes.  But why?  What could he have to gain?” [DM’s note: curse that successful sense motive check!]  After a moment’s discussion, they turn back to Chagsuuth.

“What really happened?” Droidi asks in Druidic, and the bugbear booms out laughter.

“Me told him nobody believe story!”  He slaps his chest again, hooting.  “We paid to say that!”

Again, the question arises- by whom?

This time Chagsuuth shrugs.  “You all look same to me.”

“To discredit Tangus,” muses Horbin.  “Probably one of the other candidates.  Maybe Ooluts?”

But it doesn’t really matter.  The party has done what they came to do.  The problems with the harbor should clear up in a few days, according to the bugbears.  Satisfied, they decide to head back up and clean up, except for Droidi, who elects to stay with the bugbears and learn a few druidic spells Chagsuuth knows that he doesn’t.  All seems well taken care of.  Once the rest of the group leaves, the two-headed half-dragon halfling druid removes the orc ring and shows his true form to the bugbears.  Although taken aback at first, these folks have experience with ettins and worse, so they aren’t too put out.  And what looks to be a beautiful relationship begins...




[edited to fix a major messup in the story- thanks SeldomSeen, I had it all wrong!]

Next time: casting spells at politicians, the final confrontation with the Juiblexian cleric- and the election!


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## Rune (Sep 13, 2002)

I know I'm no littlejohn, but here's an illustration of how I envision Sith.

I know, he looks like a monk, but if you were a fighter who couldn't wear armor, wouldn't you dress that way, too?

By the way, if you don't want me cluttering up your story hour (or if you just think this sucks), let me know and I'll remove this.


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## the Jester (Sep 13, 2002)

Hey, I love it when other folks clutter up my story hour!

Cool pic, but Sith's player actually had a great visual for how he looked.  He bought one of the uruk-hai action figures from FotR and gussied it up.  I wonder if I could talk him into posting a picture of it here?  He's a fantastic photographer, so maybe...

Heh... and after he got the hat of intellect from the githyanki fight he always wore it, he was proud of how 'wizardly' it made him look... he was always tryin' to get some respect as an orcish mage.


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## SeldomSeen (Sep 14, 2002)

OMG! 

Jester, you crack monkey!  That's not how it went down yo!  
All of us refused to go down into the drain, so we went looking for 
wherever it drained into the sea.  This search led us to a small 
freehold a ways off from town.  After talking to the farmer, we 
decided to check out his well.  A couple of water breathing spells 
later, we were down the well and in the undergound lake.  When we 
found the otherside of the drain, It was choked off by a solid plug of 
crap that we would have never broke through, even if we tried.  

Another interesting think we did was try to feed the plug to the 
fungus.  We gathered up a bunch of the fungus from the harbor and 
threw it in the drain room. We still need to go back and see how that 
is doing...


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## Rune (Sep 14, 2002)

the Jester said:
			
		

> *Hey, I love it when other folks clutter up my story hour!
> 
> Cool pic, but Sith's player actually had a great visual for how he looked.  He bought one of the uruk-hai action figures from FotR and gussied it up.  I wonder if I could talk him into posting a picture of it here?  He's a fantastic photographer, so maybe...
> 
> Heh... and after he got the hat of intellect from the githyanki fight he always wore it, he was proud of how 'wizardly' it made him look... he was always tryin' to get some respect as an orcish mage. *




I certainly don't mean to impose my image of Sith upon you all!  I was doodling a mental image inspired by your vivid story-telling, that's all.

Well, and apparently Bruce Lee and Patrick Stewart.


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## the Jester (Sep 14, 2002)

SeldomSeen said:
			
		

> *OMG!
> 
> Jester, you crack monkey!  That's not how it went down yo!
> All of us refused to go down into the drain, so we went looking for
> ...




I thought you guys found the well after the first trip, once you knew where the cavern was more or less?

Hmm, that's the problem with writing this stuff up months after the fact... and the advantage of having you posting here!

I'll go back and cheerfully edit it to make it more correct...


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## pogre (Sep 15, 2002)

*Sewer Adventures*

Great story! All of this sewer adventuring reminds me of one of my player's stories. His old man is in charge of the city sewer treatment plant. He was walking between a couple of the sludge ponds with his two sons. He turned to say something, lost his balance and fell in. As he crawled out, covered in sewage, one of them said to him, "Whatever you do, don't lick your lips."

Keep it up Jester!


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## the Jester (Sep 15, 2002)

Rune said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I certainly don't mean to impose my image of Sith upon you all!  I was doodling a mental image inspired by your vivid story-telling, that's all.
> 
> Well, and apparently Bruce Lee and Patrick Stewart. *




Hehehe... Feel free to post your versions of any of the pcs or npcs involved, I have some pics I've drawn of stuff but most of it's too big to scan (art pad sized stuff).  F'rex I have a cool pic of the githyanki party from way back.  But yeah, I'm always interested in how folks visualize things.

Cool story, pogre!  Although not so cool for your friend's dad.  Icky!  But I'm glad you're liking it.

I'll prolly have a new update tomorrow, it's late (I just got done watching Fight Club for the first time- wow, it was great!) so I'm off to bed soon.  I'm also hoping to actually get a chance to run a game again soon, but who knows whether that'll work out.  I'm leaving town to travel for a while, so I'm scrambling to finish my story hour to the point at which the campaign is currently at- I think I'm three games behind.  Hopefully (crosses fingers) I'll finish it up in time...


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## the Jester (Sep 16, 2002)

*Casting Spells at Candidates*

Vito talks to the farmers owning the well the party descended.  “I have some powerful and wealthy friends,” he tells them, “that would be interested in using the caves that your well leads to for storage of certain items, no questions asked,” and to seal the deal he gives the freeholder family a tidy sum of gold.  His diplomatic ways brook no opposition from a newly-wealthy family, so they count their money and cheerfully agree.  

Back at the Drinking Dwarves, our heroes fall into an interesting conversation with Longburns.  The long and the short of it is that his clan is in debt and willing to sell some local land cheap.  Although the group has plans elsewhere- after all, this town doesn’t like their kind and some of them have plans to assault the forces trying to restore the Temple of Elemental Evil- he sells them on the idea, both because the parcel of land he’s offering is supposedly riddled with caves, including a mythical tomb of the last king of Dorla (which may or may not even exist), and because if they own it they can vote in the forthcoming election.

The next day the group revisits the harbor, and to their great satisfaction the infestation of fungus is clearly not as thick as it was previously.  Harbormistress Bentricle is as salty as ever, which Krunkshank finds enticing.  Later in the day, Vito leaves the group to run a few errands.

These errands, of course, involve the Magpie Gang.  He tells them about the farmer on the edge of town and the little operation he’s set up, but much to his chagrin the gang leader, a female half-elf named Athro, won’t have him running any operations until he’s proven himself.  She’s more than happy to give him a chance to do so, however.  Ooluts, one of the candidates for governor, has some documents that might compromise the Magpie’s man in the election; on election night, Vito is to see to it that those documents are removed from his possession.  The gang provides him with Ooluts’ house’s floor plan, including the location of the safe.

Meanwhile, Droidi makes another trip to the bugbear cave and offers them a chance to live in the caves on the land the group bought from Longburns.  He’s worked out a deal with the rest of the party; he can live in the caverns with any friends he wants.  They don’t yet realize that he means the bugbears, but they probably won’t care anyway.  Chagsuuth, the bugbear druid, seems to like the idea, and states that he’ll sneak up to the surface and check out the caves’ suitability, but that most likely his tribe will take Droidi up on his offer.

That afternoon, while the group is in the Dwarves drinking, Ooluts enters the bar, flanked by a pair of tough-looking bodyguards.  “A round for everyone, on me!” he cries, tossing Longburns a bag of coin.  “And while you’re at it, use some of that to resupply yourself a little, my good dwarf!”

Horbin says, “So are you going to keep buying the whole town drinks if you’re elected?”

“Of course not,” Ooluts scoffs.  “But don’t you agree that having a governor with the resources to get things done is better than having a governor who can’t?”  The two begin a minor debate, and Vito drops back into the corner, trying to be unobtrusive.  Then he begins casting a detect thoughts spell...

Of course, Ooluts’ bodyguards are observant folk.  They see Vito begin spellcasting motions and spring into action.  The smaller, wiry fellow pushes Ooluts to the ground, shouting, “Down!” and whips a blade free of its sheath.  The larger, burly fellow, having missed Vito’s spell beginning, looks about, and Vito, deciding that discretion is certainly the better part of all that other stuff, stops his spellcasting and slips out the door, then hurries around the corner to a good hiding spot.  

Inside the Dwarves, Horbin says, “Your bodyguards are quite quick.  Maybe they’re overreacting a little bit?”

“Well,” Ooluts answers as he rises to his feet, “we’ve seen what kind of damage adventurers can do here, haven’t we?  After all, they did kill the last governor- and I, for one, don’t intend to be next.”

But there’s no more trouble.  Vito stays outside, though he does cast his detect thoughts and try to eavesdrop on the bodyguards and Ooluts, and the candidate and his guardians leave shortly, no doubt embarrassed by the ruckus.  

“I still want to kill that cleric of Juiblex,” Horbin tells the rest of the group.

“Arr, I agree,” says Captain Clambake, tossing back another beer.  “First thing tomorrow.  And isn’t tomorrow election day?”

Indeed it is.




Well, folks, it's late so I'm afraid that the election and the final battle against the Juiblexian have to wait til next time.  Coming soon, we'll have not only those events, but also breaking and entering....


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## the Jester (Sep 22, 2002)

A messenger comes for Horbin at the Mulled Mead: “Tangus the Brilliant requests you join him at a Temple of the Light.”

Horbin is a cleric of the Light, just as Tangus is; he can hardly refuse.  Smelling a political trap, he tries to demur, but the messenger frowns darkly.  How can he refuse a request by one of his fellow clergymen?  Finally he agrees to an appointment.  When the time comes, he goes before the other cleric.  Tangus is a human of obvious Forinthian lineage; he has golden hair in a halo like a lion’s mane, and though he isn’t arrayed for battle his mien is grave and severe.

“I hear you and your friends have been spreading rumors about me,” he begins without preamble.  “I understand you’re claiming that I was responsible for the problems in the harbor.”  He frowns, his eyes narrowing.  “Is this true?”

Horbin, caught point-blank and off-guard, stammers, “Uh...” and thinks about it.  He himself hasn’t spread any rumors, but he remembers overhearing Captain Clambake, Bolfol, Vito and Krunkshank discussing the possibilities of propagating the bugbears’ rumors.  They must have done so.  Crap.  Choosing his words carefully, not wanting to perjure himself in front of another priest of the Light, he says, “I myself have never told a falsehood about you.”

Tangus’ frown deepens.  “Do you believe that I had something to do with the harbor problems?” he demands.

“No,” Horbin admits.

“Are you willing to say this in public?” 

“Uh... yes, as long as it’s true.”  

“Come with me.”  Tangus leads the hapless Horbin out of his office and into the church’s main hall of worship.  The windows are stained glass depictions of important points in the Dextrite faith: Solurnustice, the moment the sun was ignited a million years ago; Dexter casting the demon out of the child; Dexter casting himself into Bleak’s Maw; the Archangel Gabriel guarding the Gates of Heaven with his flaming sword...  The chamber is packed with people.

“My friends,” Tangus announces, “here is Horbin, one of the adventurers who have been sullying my name.  He has something to say about this.”

_Crap,_ Horbin thinks.  He’s as evasive as he can be, but he can’t just lie to all those people, can he.



It’s all last-minute maneuverings at this point.  Zenvo seems to be doing pretty well, but Ooluts has really started to buy himself a come from behind.  A lot of last-week spending seems to have done him well.  Election night rolls around, and the party members who have title to the land they bought from Longburns’ family all cast their lot for Zenvo Dalais, spoon-player extraordinaire.  Then Vito takes Horbin and Droidi quietly to Ooluts’ mansion.  They know where the safe is thanks to the floor plans the Magpie Gang gave Vito, and Ooluts is pumping hands with his bodyguards until the polls close.  His mansion is stone, and so it’s easy prey to a stone shape spell.  It takes a few minutes to search the safe out and convince it to open, but then Vito swipes the papers and that’s that.  They stone shape everything closed when they leave.

Later, at the Dwarves, Longburns tells them that the results probably won’t be in all the way until the next evening or afternoon.  “It takes a while to count things up- unless there’s a landslide, which isn’t the looks of things tonight.” 

“Let’s go get the thing that destroyed my holy symbol,” Horbin suggests, and Droidi and Vito agree; Horbin does a divination that seems to point back to where the adventurers first met it again.  The three heroes pick up Blunder and head back to the sewers......


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## the Jester (Sep 22, 2002)

*Final Battle Against Bleth*

Once again, the four companions are plodding through a disgusting smelly sewer.  Once again they go back to the place where the shrine to the Faceless Lord was.  And this time, the creature has sensed them before they’ve spotted it.  It rises from the morass in a half-humanoid, half-ooze form, roaring praises to its dark Lord, and Blunder’s bow shivers and shatters in his hands.  He gives a deep-throated cry.  

Droidi reacts first, conjuring a flaming sphere near Bleth- the Juiblexian- who screams as it appears right around him!  Vito calls upon Boccob to strike out at the strange ooze-like cleric with a spiritual staff, and he has a little more good luck, landing a solid blow.   With a cry of rage, Bleth charges Blunder, smiting him and paralyzing him in a single deadly blow!  The half-orc gives a single strangled cry as he drops onto the sewage- unfortunately, there’s no water walk this time!  Horbin moves to save his ally, while meanwhile Droidi hurls a dagger into the evil cleric’s body.  The spiritual staff swings again, narrowly missing the monster’s head, but Vito’s sound burst explodes right next to it.  Even though Bleth isn’t stunned, it’s damaged enough that it drops back under the surface of the sewage.  

Vito and Droidi assume their guard.  Vito’s prepared for this tactic this time; he casts deathwatch, and even though he can’t see its exact location he knows roughly where it is.  The entire group- except for Horbin, who’s busy keeping Blunder from drowning, and the half-orc mercenary- makes ready to attack it as soon as it pops up.  And a moment later, as it rises, they get there chance.  Vito hurls an enchanted rock at it, Droidi stabs it with his dagger, and with a horrified shriek the creature dies, spilling foul-smelling ichor in the river of sewage.

Forty minutes later they are at the sea, rinsing off.  Then more baths, beers, and an exhausted sleep.  Horbin sleeps well for the first time in days.

And Captain Clambake doesn’t sleep at all......







Notes: I was actually quite disappointed, the party did almost maximum damage against Bleth in this fight right out of the gate.  He didn't do as well against them in the final fight as I'd hoped; but the next two sessions taxed the party to their limits, between the return of some old friends, the resolution of 
Captain Clambake's... issues, and the first time in 3e (and it wasn't even close to fair) that I've gotten to use... well, you'll see.

I posted Blunder in the Rogues' Gallery thread if anyone's interested: http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=23482



Next Time: Investigating the caves on the land the party bought; and oh yeah- who won the election?


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## the Jester (Sep 25, 2002)

*Election results in!*

When the results finally come in, our heroes are sorely disappointed.  It seems that Zenvo came in a reasonably close second, but the election’s winner in Tangus the Brilliant.  Tangus, who doesn’t like adventurers; Tangus, who entangled Horbin (and clearly dislikes him).

Most of the party gets drunk at the Drinking Dwarves.  The talk in the tavern around them is mostly about the election.  Tangus will be inaugurated in a few days.  The party decides to check out their new holdings while they wait for a ship to be able to take them back towards Dorhaus.  A trip to the harbor shows that the fungus is rapidly clearing from the harbor, and the shipwrights are starting to repair the ships that were infested in the harbor.  The party figures they have a few days or a week to kill, a hostile new authority in town and some new land outside of town to acquaint themselves with.  Easy to follow where this one leads, isn’t it?

Krunkshank also notes a distant ship moving in towards the harbor in the distance.  With the psionic Third Eye Aware on his forehead, he can almost see the tattered condition of the sails.  He shudders, remembering the Wraith.

The next day they head out to their land minus Captain Clambake (nobody’s seen him in the last day).  It’s rocky, full of tall grasses, well-broken with ridges and troughs, and full of little creeks.  The soil looks poor, but there are dozens of caves that the group sees all over the place.  They decide to survey the area before entering the caves- and Droidi points out some smoke.  There’s a campfire on their land.  The group proceeds with caution and finds another party of adventurers! 

“What are you doing on our land?” Droidi asks.

The other adventurers seem on their guard, wary and capable.  They explain that they’re, well, adventuring.  The halfling in their group seems to be a powerful wizard or sorcerer, and it looks like there’s an elf archer-type in their band as well.  The two groups size each other up, and though neither one wants to fight, it quickly becomes clear that the other group isn’t going anywhere without finishing whatever quest it is they’re on.  Our heroes, of course, don’t want these outsiders muscling in on their new land; and things get a little more complicated when it becomes clear that these are the adventurers who killed the last governor of Poppin.  (Shrug.  “That’s the kind of stuff that happens if you get in the way of my summoned celestial dire bear.  Call it collateral damage.”)

Still, before things come to blows, Vito and Krunkshank work out a compromise with the adventurers- a 20% share of the money they recover (a tax, as it were).  The other group claims they’ll be done in two days; our heroes agree to allow them that much time to finish up.  The party goes on their way, somewhat nervous about the other band, and goes poking about in a cave.0

[Note: as they went into the first cave, I had them roll a d% to see how “interesting” the encounter would be.  They rolled a 00.  ]





Next time: I hope to get the next update in before I leave for my adventure, because it's got the return of some old friends!  Nothing like a template to really change things around a little!


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## the Jester (Sep 25, 2002)

*Old Friends Return*

The cave the party enters is large, studded with wet stalagmites and stalactites dripping down from above, and it has a passage out the back of it.  Our heroes move forward to investigate, chatting as then move- and then Krunkshank hears a strange sound.  It sounds like the squeak of moving metal.

"Do you hear that?" he asks the group, moving up to stand before the dark passage.  He peers down the long cavern, looking to the limits of his darkvision- and two metal hounds come bounding out at him, charging at him before he has a chance to act.  Both hit him and try to latch onto him with their steel jaws, but he manages to force both of them away.  He gives a great cry of pain as they savage him, but whips out his axe and swings wildly at one of the gear hounds.  Horbin draws out his mace, calling upon Dexter for a circle of protection from law.  Vito, meanwhile, conjures a magical staff, which pummels one of the constructs attacking Krunkshank.  Droidi moves in, a flame springing to life in his hand.  One of the metal beasts turns to him and savagely catches him in its jaw for an instant before he throws its grip off.  

Krunkshank trades blows with the monster on him; Horbin, meanwhile, begins to summon a monster.  Before he can finish, Droidi has tumbled away from the one that snapped at him and it bites Horbin instead, ruining his spell and catching him!  The gear hound shakes him, disorienting him, but he manages to keep his wits.  Then Droidi hurls a flame at the thing holding him.  

Vito hears something- a strange, tortured gait; and a word- “Flee!  Flee... you fools...”
_What was that?_ he wonders.

Horbin struggles with the monster holding him, taking advantage of the moment of damage to slip out of its grip, tearing his shoulder as he does it.  A shrill sound signals a sound burst from Vito, further damaging the gear hounds.  Then Droidi steps in and tears into the one on Horbin, attacking with both claws and both bites.  He rends it to pieces.  Krunkshank has suffered several bites from the one he’s battling, but the dwarf feels his blood sing.  He’s enjoying the back-and-forth dance of axe and bite, and he’s just destroyed the one he’s on.  Then a chill runs through his spine as he hears a voice- something familiar in it- croak out, “Flee... run...” 

And stepping from the tunnel to face our heroes are two of their old friends: Titus the Clockwork Master and Anvar, the Paraelementalist.

Both of whom, the reader may recall, vanished after the strange clockwork vessel sank.  

Both of whom now show... a few changes.

Anvar has a large metal hammer-looking thingy mounted on his shoulder.  He’s also got some sort of crackly face-mounted wand-looking metal tube thing next to the right side of his face, with some sort of metal lens over his right eye.  He also has a large crystalline gem set in his forehead.  

He croaks again: _”Flee...”_

Titus has already hasted himself, and he too has a crystal in his forehead.  He also has some sort of shoulder-mounted metal device that suddenly barks and fires a burst of slugs into Krunkshank’s midsection.  He gives a great cry of pain, staggers back a few paces, and drops to one knee. 

The entire party is gaping.  These are two of their _friends!_

Horbin tosses a shatter spell at the crystal in Anvar’s head, but it resists.  And then, as the two clockwork servitors begin to move forward, Krunkshank cries, “Anvar my friend- I’m sorry!”  And he seals the passage with a wall of stone.








And it’s not over yet, since Anvar can cast Pass Through Earth and Stone on himself!

Next time I can I’ll update this and finish the fight off- if not tonight, then prolly not for a couple of months, I’m afraid.... but I will try to finish this off before I leave.  

Aw, crap, that still leaves Captain Clambake and the lich to tell... Did I say lich?  Heh... forget I said that.

Lich.  These guys are only around 8th level, after all.


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## the Jester (Sep 27, 2002)

Krunkshank’s face goes white as Anvar steps right through the wall of stone.  Vito’s prayers summon up a thoqqua.  The party is retreating already, but too slowly.  Horbin blasts off a searing light while Krunkshank casts heat metal on their former companion.

“Flee, you fools...” Anvar chokes out, and drops down into the floor, out of view.  The party tries to flee, but they just aren’t moving fast enough.  The shock of seeing their old allies, corrupted by strange metal and machinery- it’s taken the wind out of all of them.  They’re almost in shock.  They’re falling back, with Horbin and Krunkshank both pausing to heal themselves a little, when Anvar re-emerges from the ground and casts a powerful spell at them- a rain of lava pours from the ceiling, burning and hammering the entire group!  Screams, the hissing of burning flesh, the tremendous thundering of pyroclastic rocks bouncing all around them- 

Droidi breathes on Anvar, a billowing cloud of acidic vapors, and then tumbles back.  Horbin entreats Dexter for aid and a circle of healing spreads among the party.  Krunkshank throws off another searing light, noting that, although Anvar’s metal parts are glowing red hot from the heat metal spell, Anvar himself seems unharmed.  _He must have protected himself while he was underground,_ the elementalist thinks, then winces as his former friend bursts into bright flames and whips out his longsword.  Vito has already left the cave, and Droidi tries to follow.  The climb up and out of the cave seems much longer than on the way in, and his fingers scrabble for purchase.

Another blast of searing light shoots from Horbin while Krunkshank readies a counterspell.  Then the clockwork servitor whips his blade into Krunkshank, slashing at him several times.  The battle rages back and forth, with Krunkshank and Horbin blasting spells and swinging weapons while Anvar hacks back at them, stopping briefly to heal himself.  Finally, the two heroes flanking him manage to drop Anvar.  With a sick thunk, Krunkshank’s axe splits Anvar’s head in two as he blasts at them with a last flaming spell.  The party is gasping for breath; their healing spells are virtually exhausted, they’re wounded, they’re exhausted... and they’ve won.

Or so they think.

But Titus has not been idle this whole time.  The wall of stone has been suffering the effects of a steady stream of slug thrower attacks the whole time the party has been battling Anvar, and just as he falls, so too does the wall.  Titus, the clockwork master-the clockwork servitor- steps over the rubble.  A volley of magic missiles shoots into Krunkshank, who staggers back, crying out in pain, and dives for cover.  

“Get up here!” screams Droidi from the cave mouth.

Horbin is trying to heal himself enough to stand up to Titus, and shouts back, “Get down here!”  Droidi curses and starts to climb back down into the cave.  And Krunkshank rolls out from behind his rock and flame strikes the clockwork master, following it up with a fireball.  Horbin whips out his sling, mutters, “Crap,” and shoots a bullet at Titus, missing badly.  

A lightning bolt surges out, staggering both Horbin and Krunkshank, and the elementalist responds with another fireball.  Red-orange fire blossoms like a rose in the cave, And as soon as he can see through the heat haze Horbin tries to hold Titus- but with all the mechanical stuff in him, is he still a person?  The spell fails.  

Screaming a war cry, Krunkshank charges with his axe, but Titus is well-protected.  He fails to penetrate the clockwork servitor’s defenses.  Titus draws his rapier and pokes at the elementalist, but Krunkshank’s a dwarf; he wears heavy armor, and it’s enough to turn the point.  Then, enraged by having had to slay his own friend Anvar, Krunkshank manages to land not one but two solid blows against Titus, driving him back a step.  A moment later, a flaming sphere appears and then a flickering flame seems to spring into Titus, thrown by Droidi.  The half-dragon’s keeping his distance this time, but Horbin isn’t; he tosses his sling aside and draws out his holy mace, then charges.  At the last instant, his toe catches on an outcropping of rock and he stumbles, badly missing.   

A jet of scalding steam pours from Titus’ hand as he speaks magic words, and Krunkshank grunts and staggers, his face badly burnt.  Horbin moves up, blinking the hot water from his eyes, and is forced to go through the flaming sphere in order to flank in the passage that Krunkshank and Titus are battling in.  He swings his mace and misses.  Krunkshank lands two more telling blows, however, and Titus tumbles away and whips out a potion, obviously badly wounded.  “No you don’t!” cries Horbin, and casts random action on his friend turned foe.  But again, the mind of Titus is no longer in charge.  The spell fails.

But Droidi’s flaming sphere is close enough to Titus for Krunkshank’s purposes.  He channels fire, screaming from the strain, and a great flaming serpent rises from the sphere and lashes out, catching Titus in its coils and dragging him back to the sphere.  Droidi springs forward, viciously biting and clawing at him.  The clockwork servitor tries to squirm free, and then goes limp, slain by the fiery constrictor.

_Now_ they’ve won.

“Dexter’s nadlies,” breathes Horbin.

“You can say that again,” answers Krunkshank, panting...





A few notes about this fight: the whole thing (starting with the gear hounds and ending with Titus) took 21 rounds.  If the pcs hadn’t separated Titus and Anvar I doubt whether they would have all survived.  Heck, it might’ve been a TPK!  But, thanks to Krunkshank’s wall of stone, they not only got to fight them essentially one at a time but also exhausted Titus’ slug thrower ammo.

It’ll be a while before I get another chance to update this,  so I don’t know when or if I’ll tell the tale of our heroes finding out what’s up with Captain Clambake, the Return of the Wraith, and, of course, the lich.  But when I get the chance, I’ll certainly try to do it!  There are stories yet to be told- the tomb of the Last King of Dorla, the magic of the ancients... Hopefully I’ll get the chance!


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## Technik4 (Oct 15, 2002)

*Your story*

Wow. We've been going back and forth on a thread in the house rules forum, and I happened to notice your sig. Glad I did, I don't normally enjoy reading other people's stories, but this was fantastic. I'm an aspiring dm, and while I know more rules than most, I'm terrible at reacting quickly to an intelligent annd inquisitve party. Any tips?

Incidentally, if you get a chance to post those custom feats, I'd love to see them, and any hints on running a campaign (for 20+ years?) would be greatly appreciated.

Wow.

Technik


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## the Jester (Oct 17, 2002)

*Re: Your story*



			
				Technik4 said:
			
		

> *Wow. We've been going back and forth on a thread in the house rules forum, and I happened to notice your sig. Glad I did, I don't normally enjoy reading other people's stories, but this was fantastic. I'm an aspiring dm, and while I know more rules than most, I'm terrible at reacting quickly to an intelligent annd inquisitve party. Any tips?
> 
> Incidentally, if you get a chance to post those custom feats, I'd love to see them, and any hints on running a campaign (for 20+ years?) would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> ...




Hey, thanks for the praise!  It's always nice to have someone throw a few kind words out about my game, since I have been running dnd games since 1981, and they do ultimately all tie together (although my original campaign world got eaten by Tharizdun, my current world was created by one of the survivors... long story!)

Anyway, I find that my best sessions are a mix of improvisation and prep work... If you can create a few encounters that can fit in to the session regardless of what the pcs do with just a slight change of the background it often seems like you've planned things a lot more than you actually have.  

For example, if your party is 4th level you might create a group of low-level warriors led by a 4th-level rogue.  The party goes on the road?  The npcs are bandits.  The party stays in town?  The npcs are a street gang.  The party goes into a dungeon?  The npcs are bandits, and this is their lair.  And so forth.

Winging it is a tricky skill to learn, but one thing that helps me is constantly flipping through the books looking for things that give me ideas (while I'm dming).  Another thing is to drop plot hooks like crazy, letting the pcs bite at the ones that interest them, and have the others in the back of your mind for later.  Keep in mind that even if the pcs don't do anything, the rest of the world is moving along.  Look to the real world for inspiration on this: while we ignored it, for instance, the genocides in Rwanda went on.  

Another thing about winging it is that if you make up stuff as you go along, make sure that you take notes so that when the party goes back to the little mystery you hinted at five sessions back you can pick up where you left off.  Also, the more stuff you make up as you go along, the more threads you can refer back to later.  

I like to give the pcs the freedom to do what they want within the context of the campaign world.  I rarely run "stories"- I mostly set up situations.  I can't tell you how many times I've had brilliant ideas that the pcs have totally ignored.  (There was a big intrigue and revolution oriented thing that the party touched on a few times but mostly ignored a while back.)  The key is that these situations advance regardless of whether the pcs dabble in them or not.  

When the party throws you a curve, roll with it.  I never try to railroad them into doing what I want, though sometimes my npcs do, or sometimes they end up trapped somewhere they can't easily escape from and they have to work through it.  But generally, I let their tricky tactics work for them (unless the npc involved would logically have a counter); I let them run with their wacky ideas.  I find that, rather than trying to design adventures for them, I try to anticipate a few of the things they're likely to do and plan a little for them.

I don't know if this is exactly what you're looking for, but I hope it helps a little!

About the custom feats: I'm on the road right now, so I don't have easy access to them.  However, I'll email my love slave (she has my computer) and have her email them to me, then copy and paste the ones you want.  Er... which I'll have to check out our discussion on the thread that led you here to see about (? the one about the combat mastery or attack bonus feat, right?)

Tallyho!


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## Piratecat (Nov 13, 2002)

the Jester said:
			
		

> *A few notes about this fight: the whole thing (starting with the gear hounds and ending with Titus) took 21 rounds.*




21 rounds? Yikes! How long in real life?


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## Bob Aberton (Nov 15, 2002)

cool stuff you've got here...an odd yet real cool (tm) storyhour.

So you wing it too?  I also wing my games, with somewhat less success than yours...

Speaking of which [pimping] why not visit mine, which has just been updated, after a long hiatus [/pimping]?


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## SeldomSeen (Nov 16, 2002)

> 21 rounds? Yikes! How long in real life?




Hours.  At least a couple.  You see, we are never the most organized group in the first place, and the extremely chaotic nature of our current party does little to help.  

We were really lucky in this battle in a couple of ways.  First, we were able to seperate them.  Next, I was still good on spells when the clockwork master came through.  I was able to nail him with most everything I had.  This was definetly a tough fight, although one is coming in which The Jester almost got a TPK...

-SeldomSeen
AKA Krunkshank


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## Welverin (Jan 8, 2003)

*NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*

I go on a little hiatus and everything falls apart! Not cool.

I need, nay *must* find out what's up with Cap'n Clambake. Get back to updating! While you're busy doing that I promise to read your new story hour, deal?


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## Mathew_Freeman (Jan 8, 2003)

I agree! We demand updates! *Demand them!*


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## Welverin (Jan 9, 2003)

Tallarn said:
			
		

> *I agree! We demand updates! Demand them! *




If our demands *aren't* met then there shall be a riot the likes the world has not seen before! Looting! Raping and pillaging! Staypuff Marshmellow Men! Dogs and cats living together! Mass hysteria!


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## Mathew_Freeman (Jan 9, 2003)

Mass hystericals, anyway.


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## the Jester (Jan 9, 2003)

I must confess that this was pretty much on the back burner... I'd gotten this story hour up to the game before the last one I ran for that group, and then I went on my trip.  I guess since you guys want it, though, I'll have to go through my notes and post an update for you....

It'll prolly take a day or two for me to get it written, and it's been a long time- I'll have to consult with my players in this, but I'll get on it!

And I'm flattered you guys liked it enough to demand the rest of the tale.


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## Welverin (Jan 9, 2003)

> _ the Jester's comments summed up by Welverin _
> *O.k.*




YEAH!

Thanks for doing it for us. This story hour was a lot of fun to read.

I'm off to read Agents of Chaos as promised.


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## the Jester (Jan 10, 2003)

*Where's Clambake? -a teaser!*

The boards creak around Captain Clambake.  The deck rolls in the tossing waves.  Gulls fly overhead.  Though the fungus is mostly gone from the harbor, the Sea Wraith hangs just outside of it like a tattered ghost.

Clambake shuffles over to the rum cask and puts his mug beneath it, but there's only a swallow left.  He's lived this last week on rum alone; now he's out.

"Arr," he says to himself, "I could sail this ship well- if only I had a crew!"  He mumbles softly, gazing at the empty rum casks.  "And I need to take on supplies.  Arr!  More rum for the Captain!"

He shuffles to the rail and tilts his hat back.  "Arr, time to go take on supplies- and get a crew!  And I think I know me just the fellas..."

_*More coming soon!*_


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## the Jester (Jan 15, 2003)

Business at the Drinking Dwarves is bustling.  Our heroes are taking a load off, their feet up (figuratively speaking), their moods high.  They survived the battle with Anvar and Titus, and Horbin has gained enough experience that he's been able to raise Anvar from the dead.  The elementalist is shaken by his experience, though; he needs time to recover and rethink things.  Death was not a casual experience for him.

The rest of the group is gathered around one of the tables downstairs, drinking heavily (for the most part).  Krunkshank is thinking of Harbormistress Bentricle; he loves how she keeps talking dirty to him every time they meet.  Horbin is happy at the depth of his devotion to Dexter, as proven by the great miracle of bringing the dead back that he just performed.  Droidi is thinking about his bugbear allies and their new home in the caves the party purchased from Longburns.  All around them the noise and smell of the crowd are heavy in the air.  Other people are crowding the place today, mostly humans but a few dwarves and at least one halfling.

The group is talking about going back into the caves when Horbin says, "Say, whatever happened to Clambake, anyway?" 

"That's a good question," Droidi replies.  He's wearing the ring that makes him look like an orc; his true, two-headed half-dragon halfling form is cloaked by illusion.

"I went down to the harbor this afternoon," Krunkshank says.  "Saw a ship off the harbor... it looked tattered and stuff.  It looked..."  He pauses significantly.  "Familiar."

There's a moment of silence while the others absorb that the dwarven elementalist has said.  Then Horbin asks, "Like the ship where he got that hat."  He looks grim.  "You know, I don't think Clambake has been eating lately.  I think... I think the hat's cursed or something.  I think it's turning him undead or something like that- he's been looking terrible."  He frowns.  "At least, up until he vanished."

"Maybe we should go look for him," Droidi suggests.

"On the ship?" Horbin asks.  The druid nods.

The group exchanges glances, and then they rise and settle up.  A quick check to ensure that none of their buckles or straps are loose and they move out towards the harbor.  Horbin casts _water walk_ on all of them and they start moving towards the ship with the tattered sails...





_*Next Time:*_ The party and Captain Clambake meet again!  Who will Clambake hire as crew?  What provisions will he take on?  Will the pcs help or hinder him?  And who was that halfling in the bar, anyway?  Stay tuned!


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## Welverin (Jan 15, 2003)

YEAH!

Ah, so it is the hat! Or is it!?

Thanks for the update.


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## the Jester (Jan 15, 2003)

There will be more coming soon.

Yes, it's the hat!  

Sorry it's taking so long to get the updates posted- I'm going back through old notes, comparing info with the players, etc.  I don't want to mess the tale up that badly if I can avoid it.  

Plus, I have to work on the NEW story hour too- btw, did you check it out Welverin?  You'll find at least one familiar face (Horbin) and occasional references to others.  In fact, it's not impossible that some of those others will make an appearance sometime- that group is the catch-all combo mixed-up party made from pieces of at least three different prior adventuring groups....


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## Welverin (Jan 16, 2003)

> _Originally posted by the Jester _* Sorry it's taking so long to get the updates posted- I'm going back through old notes, comparing info with the players, etc.  I don't want to mess the tale up that badly if I can avoid it.*




Not a problem, I'm actually capable of waiting. It's the not finishing of things that bugs me, like the LotR PC games by Interplay in the early nineties, no RotK!  



> *Plus, I have to work on the NEW story hour too- btw, did you check it out Welverin?*




Of course!  I said I would after all. Not all caught up yet though.



> *You'll find at least one familiar face (Horbin) and occasional references to others.  In fact, it's not impossible that some of those others will make an appearance sometime- that group is the catch-all combo mixed-up party made from pieces of at least three different prior adventuring groups.... *




Yep I recognized Horbin and caught the reference to Clambake as well. Is it a new group of players or the same ones? What was the impetus for changing games? If the answers to these questions give anything away *don’t tell me!* Well not yet at least.


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## the Jester (Jan 16, 2003)

Welverin said:
			
		

> *
> Yep I recognized Horbin and caught the reference to Clambake as well. Is it a new group of players or the same ones? What was the impetus for changing games? If the answers to these questions give anything away don’t tell me! Well not yet at least. *




It's the same players for the most part.  The reason for the change was that things finished up at a good ending point and I was gone for months (what with my trip around the country and all), and when I came back it just seemed like a good point to mix things up- something I'd been planning for a while.  All the pcs (except Grumpy Fluffbottom) were around for quite a while in one game or another that I'd run previously- Sheva, Angel, Sybele and Zeebo came from one party, Lester is an old 2e character brought into the "modern" era, and of course there's Horbin.

Anvar and Krunkshank may make an appearance sometime, as may King Malford and his buddies- Lester is an old friend of his.  There'll likely be some more connections drawn between the two story hours before all is said and done; we may eventually revisit the Bastion of Law too... >fiendish grin<


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## the Jester (Jan 18, 2003)

SeldomSeen has pointed out that I left out something between the fight with the clockwork servitors and the new updates.  Instead of editing it in, I think I'll work it in as a flashback.  

Darn that 6-month hiatus...


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## Welverin (Jan 18, 2003)

the Jester said:
			
		

> *SeldomSeen has pointed out that I left out something between the fight with the clockwork servitors and the new updates.  Instead of editing it in, I think I'll work it in as a flashback.
> 
> Darn that 6-month hiatus... *




Stinking passage of time, will it ever leave us alone!?


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## the Jester (Jan 19, 2003)

*Reunion*

Captain Clambake's limbs are stiff and his vision seems foggy.  He slowly unties the ropes that hold the creaky rowboat to the side of the _Sea Wraith_, then lets it drop into the water with a cold splash.  Slowly he clambers down to it.  As he settles in and takes up the oars he feels faint and weak.  As he slowly starts to make his way towards shore he keeps glancing avariciously over his shoulder at the ship.  _I'll be back soon,_ he promises himself mentally.



The rest of the party walks across the waves towards the cursed ship.  As they move over the waves, Krunkshank points.  "Look!" he cries.  "A rowboat!"  Indeed, the rest of the group realizes that there's a single rickety boat holding a gaunt figure approaching.

"Is that...?" Horbin starts, and Droidi gives a cry of surprise.

"Clambake!" the elementalist cries.  "My friend, are you all right?"

As if from a thick fog, Captain Clambake hears the voices.  His head snaps up and for a second he doesn't seem to recognize his old friends.  Then a veil lifts from his eyes, and he speaks.  "Well, hello, friends... Arrr!  I've just set out to go take on supplies, get some more rum for the ship, and a few men to crew her.  Arr!"

Horbin and Droidi exchange a glance.  "So you've been on the ship the last couple of weeks?" he asks, trying to seem casual.  

"Oh, yes," Clambake replies.  "She's a fine ship, entirely seaworthy.  Arr!  I can't wait to get back to her!  Perhaps ye'd all like to sign on?  We'll be taking to sea as soon as we're outfitted, and p'raps there'll be considerable booty in the near future.  Arr-arr-arr!" he laughs, and then it turns into a foul coughing spell.

"Umm, maybe," says Horbin.  

"Come, friend," interrupts Krunkshank.  "Let's get back to the Drinking Dwarves and we'll talk there."

"You missed out on some crazy stuff," Droidi adds.  "We found Anvar."

"Oh, really?  Arr!  Good, maybe he'll sign up as well!" Captain Clambake smiles at the thought.  Yes, all his old friends would make good crewmen... and soon they'll all be sailing the seas together, taking other ships, raping, looting and pillaging, drinking rum and dancing atop the waves.  Yes, things are going well now.  It should be easy enough to persuade them, especially once they see just how glorious and powerful the ship is....




_*Next Time:*_ Can our heroes persuade Captain Clambake to go adventuring in their caves before he leaves on the ship?  Will they join his crew, or will they dissuade him from taking the cursed vessel out?  Who was that halfling in the bar- don't worry, I haven't forgotten about him!  And what did they find in the tomb of the Last King of Dorla?  Find out- next time!


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## Welverin (Jan 20, 2003)

I really like the _*Next Time*_ bits you put at the end of each update.


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## the Jester (Jan 21, 2003)

Thanks, I've always enjoyed putting those in.  It's kind of like the "next issue" blurb at the end of a comic...


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## Welverin (Jan 21, 2003)

mmmmmmmm, comics.

wait you're not supposed to eat those are you?


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## the Jester (Jan 21, 2003)

*Back to the Drinking Dwarves*

Our heroes find it easy enough to persuade Captain Clambake to return to the Drinking Dwarves with them; after all, where else could he find such an easy supply of rum?  He smiles to himself as he sets up a major purchase.  After, Horbin inquires, "So are you buying food?"

"No, arr!  Rum be enough!"

"Well, uh, don't you think-"

"It'll be fine, arr!  And ye should all sign up and join me crew!"  Clambake sways on his feet, his head light from the rum he's been drinking since arriving at the dwarves.

The party tells Clambake about their adventures.  "We were investigating the caves we bought from Longburns over there-" Droidi gestures at the barkeep- "and we found Anvar and Titus."

"But they were all messed up," Krunkshank picks up the tale.  "They'd been fused with some sort of clockwork.  Anvar had some kind of lightning-thrower stuck in his face, and Titus had some sort of... I don't know what it was, but it threw slugs of metal at us with terrific force." 

None of them notice the halfling sitting at the bar.  His shaggy hair shifts as he glances in their direction.  He wears furs and bears a shortsword, and something about the way he carries himself makes him seem ready to jump into action like a cat at any second.  He sips at his mead and listens to their excited talk.

"We had to kill them," Droidi continues. 

"But I raised Anvar from the dead," Horbin adds.  "He seems pretty shaken by the experience."

"And we found really good loot."  Krunkshank's face bursts into a smile.  "Beyond where we fought Anvar and Titus we found a tomb."

"The tomb of the last king of Dorla," Horbin says with relish.






_*Next Time:*_ The Tale of the Tomb of the Last King of Dorla!  What was the loot?  What do all the magic items have in common?  And who _is_ the halfling?


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## Technik4 (Jan 22, 2003)

NOOOOOO. Hehe. Can't wait to see what the loot is  Thanks for the updates!

Technik


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## Technik4 (Jan 22, 2003)

Double post.


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## the Jester (Feb 25, 2003)

Beyond Anvar and Titus was a passageway, but the party was in no shape to face anything else after the fight, so they retreated.  Horbin first cut out all the weird metal implants and then raised Anvar, who told them what had befallen him since the party last saw him: the clockwork steelship had sunk, and he and Titus had both been subdued by the horrors.  They'd been implanted and made into clockwork servitors, subverted and controlled by the master that controlled all the clockwork insects.

"There's something there that it's worried about," Anvar told the party.  "A powerful weapon against it.  You must retrieve it before the master controller does!"

So the party set out, heading back to the cave.  A few hours after leaving town they had found their way back to the area of the battle with Anvar and Titus, and past them- down the hall- was the tomb.  It was unguarded; Titus and Anvar had almost gotten whatever it was their master had been after.

In the sarcophagus the party found treasure of great, great value- magic items of a sort virtually unknown to modern magic.  There was a rod of quickening; there was a tome that taught Horbin the Improved Critical feat with his mace.  A ring, too, and an orb...

The Orb of Green Fire.  

This is the weapon.  Krunkshank wins it when the party dices to divide up their loot.  It measures some 5” in diameter and is made of electrum, chased with mithral runes and glyphs.  Two large pentagonal emeralds are set into it.  The orb constantly glows with eerie green faerie fire.  It's pretty cool, and as he grasps it he learns its powers- including the ability to shoot a ray of green fire as an attack.  He chooses not to reveal all its abilities, but it has several defensive powers as well.

"And then we came to meet you," says Horbin.



_*Next Time:*_ Can the party convince Clambake not to return to the ship immediately?  Can they help him, or is he doomed to become the Wraith-Captain?


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## Welverin (Mar 7, 2003)

*this is a test of the emergency bumpcasting system. this is just a test.*

It didn't take long at all for me to fall behind on story hours again, and I never even got caught up on P-kitty's.


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## Welverin (Jun 2, 2003)

Ya know I'd settle for a sum up, after all the not knowing what came next is killing me.


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## Mathew_Freeman (Jun 2, 2003)

Update please! Update! We want more stories of Captain Clambake!


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## the Jester (Jun 2, 2003)

_The Last King of Dorla went down fighting, his bloodline severed, the Orb his peoples' only hope, and he succeeded.

His last acts stopped the clockwork horrors- his, and the other Champions of Flesh Against Metal.  One wielded a sword that will have many tales spun about it in later eons- Felix Optima Maxima, to be used by Lester the Elementalist at a future point.  One wore the Organic Helm, destroyed in the end battle.  And of course, the Orb of Green Fire that the King wielded in the final battle, that helped dissipate the terrible energies the horrors wielded, that helped the Fleshmage seal the gate to the far-off Isle of Horrors.

Even the Y-Chrechtor, later to be miscalled the lich E-Krektor by great heroes of an age to come, could not prevail against the forces that rallied to save sentient organic life from the brooding, malevolent entity called Master Control.

Then, as the last of his people laid his body in state in a hidden tomb, his Orb of Green Fire on his breast, the King of Dorla was at peace.  He stirred when the horrors stirred, but he was dead; he could do nothing.  Then the horrors were laid low again, by Malford and his motleys, with Felix Optima again active, and the orb pulsed with the shade's desire for use... but dead, he could do nothing.  E-Krektor, Drow teacher and lich from time immemorial, was defeated again, laid low; Master Control was tied up in a virtual maze for a time.  But only for a time, and as a backup system was activated on a great steelship, the shade yearned again to act, to take up arms... but dead, he could do nothing._

Krunkshank awakens, sweating, the dream fading from his mind as dreams do.

He looks around himself.  He'd nodded off for a moment in the Drinking Dwarves, where he and his companions- including the cadaverously thin Captain Clambake, his eyes sunken into violet pits- were deciding on their next move.  Clambake was protesting something...

"C'mon, arrh," Clambake continues, "we should get back t'sea.  Arrr!  The _Wraith_ awaits!"

"Yeah, that's the problem," muttered Horbin, glancing at Droidi.

"Tell you what,"  persuades Krunkshank, "how about we take one more teensy-weensy little look around our land, explore maybe one more cave, and then we'll help you with your ship...?"  He takes a deep pull from his tankard.

Clambake sighs deeply.  "All right, then,"* he grumbles.  "One more trip... _inland._  Then we're back to the _Wraith!_"  He sips at his rum and thinks, _Whether ye like it or not._


*Natural 20 on a Will save to let him do it... darn lucky, as you'll see!


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## the Jester (Jun 2, 2003)

*One More Trip Inland*

The party returns to their land again, looking for another interesting cave.  They quickly explore a few without any luck, then- as the sun passes its zenith- they enter another crack.  "This is the last," Captain Clambake wheezes.  "I promise ye that!  Arrrh," he adds.

"Yeah, yeah," Horbin grumps.

"Say, it's another empty cave, imagine that," Clambake grumbles.  "Now d'ye suppose we can get back ta sea, where we bel- AAAAHGG!!!"

Something has grabbed him.

Clambake feels his strength- what he has left- starting to fade.  A tendril jerks him bodily towards a large mass of stone that seems to have opened a huge, salivating maw.  More tendrils whip out, slapping at Droidi and Horbin.  With a grunt, Clambake tries to pull free, but he's failing rapidly, and Horbin's holy mace smacks uselessly at the creature.

"Sure am glad I got this thing," Krunkshank remarks, pulling forth the Orb of Green Fire.  It crackles to life, flickering lime spitting from it, and a ray of burning power shoots out at the roper's body.  There's a terrible stink as flames consume it!  It screams horribly, squeezing Horbin and Clambake, but a _flame strike_ from the Galadorian finishes it off.

With a groan, Captain Clambake stumbles and catches himself against the wall.  "Oh, yeah, one more trip inland!" he complains.  "Oh, yeah, no harm done to yeh!  Pah!"  He spits angrily.  "Let's to the Dwarves for a nip of rum and then to the _Wraith,_ where we belong!  I'm in no shape for more of this cursed adventuring after that, I'm as weak as a kitten!"

A short search for loot turns up a few coins, but nothing of note, and the party hobbles back to the Drinking Dwarves, where they sit by the fireside drinking like... well, like dwarves.  Longburns peers at Clambake from beneath his brows when he refuses food with a shake of his head, but serves up the group's ale and rum all the same.

"After I recover me strength, we go ta sea, arrr," Clambake insists, almost to himself.  He cackles.  "Arr!"

"Sure, sure we do..." Krunkshank and Horbin exchange a look.  _"Now, while he's weak, we have to do something,"_ Horbin whispers.

They jump him.

"Hey!" Clambake screams, as he struggles weakly.  The roper drained his strength too much for him to put up much of a fight, though- and to his horror, Krunkshank grabs the hat, _his_ hat, the _Captain's_ hat- and _puts it on!  *He's stealing the Captaincy!!!*_

Then Clambake's eyes clear, and he groans.  Krunkshank didn't put it on; that was his own fear, his paranoia, influenced by the magic.  With a toss of his wrist, Krunkshank hurls the proud Captain's hat into the fireplace, where it curls and steams, finally bursting into flames with what sounds faintly like a wheezing scream.  In only seconds, the hat is consumed.  

"So... hungry," Clambake groans, and passes out.



_*Almost at the end, folks!  Thanks for the encouragement!  Pretty much one or two updates left!*_


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## Mathew_Freeman (Jun 2, 2003)

Ding dong the hat is dead, the hat is dead, the hat is dead, ding dong the wicked hat is dead!

Thanks Jester!


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## Welverin (Jun 4, 2003)

*Re: One More Trip Inland*



			
				Tallarn said:
			
		

> *Ding dong the hat is dead, the hat is dead, the hat is dead, ding dong the wicked hat is dead!*




Yeah, but I'll miss the persistent arr.



> *Thanks Jester!*



Yeah thanks!


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## Welverin (Jun 25, 2003)

This bump to courtesy of the Bump an old Story Hour game. 

It also serves as a reminder/kick in the pants so we can hopefully get the last update.


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## Redwald (Jun 25, 2003)

*Jester, I beg of you*

What he said.  Mister Jester, If you could find it in your heart to post the final update it would make me feel all slaadi inside.


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## the Jester (Jul 20, 2003)

*Re: Jester, I beg of you*



			
				Redwald said:
			
		

> *What he said.  Mister Jester, If you could find it in your heart to post the final update it would make me feel all slaadi inside.   *




Oh, all right... how can I turn down something that'll make you feel all slaadi inside??  Here it comes, although from a different P.O.V....


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## the Jester (Jul 20, 2003)

*Five Years Later....*

Captain Clambake, though not captain of the ship he's on, growls softly deep in his throat as the vessel heads through the medium-high waves into the harbor of the Shining City of Tirchond.  

_The Egg,_ he thinks with satisfaction.

The _Purple Whale's_ captain approaches him.  He's a grizzled veteran of the Forinthian navy, retired over a decade but still scarred from old battles.  "We're here," he says in his typical clipped tones, and Clambake nods.

"Arr, my thanks," the dwarf says, handing over a bag of coins.  The captain nods at him briefly, then stomps off to the foredeck, peering out at the elven vessels moored at the quay.  Soon enough he's barking orders at his crew to tie off and ready for inspection as the suspicious elves and dwarves of the Port Inspection Authority board and start examining the vessel's cargo.  Clambake doesn't bother to wait; he heads immediately into the city, seeking lodging, and soon he's got a meal of fish stew and vegetables in front of him, as well as a flask of rum.

Some tastes, even acquired under the influence of a curse, never go away.  "Arr," he says to himself quietly in satisfaction as his belly grows full and warm.  Some mannerisms, even acquired under the influence of a curse, stay with one for life.

A flight of stairs later and he throws his pack down in his room and doffs his coat and hat.  He's dry of the spray of the sea now, and he spends a few minutes passing his fingers through the tangles of his beard.  _Definitely needs some work,_ he thinks briefly to himself, then falls to his knees to offer his devotions to his God Na'Rat, the Chaos-Bringer, for whom he has come to this far-flung isle.

After his obsequies are done, Clambake flings himself heavily into the bed and soon sinks deep into a snoring sleep.  And dreams of old friends, companions long gone, events in the past...

_He dreams of the hat whose mark has never fully left him; he dreams of Horbin the Holy, with whom he sailed for two years after the terrible last battle that drove them from Dorla.  He dreams of Krunkshank, who went far to the west, perhaps even to Dorhaus, accompanying Anvar the Paraelementalist so long ago.  He dreams of Droidi, the small two-headed half-dragon, arguing with himself, head snarling at head.  

He dreams of recent times, spent on Pesh in meditation and study.  He remembers the bile that rose in his throat when he saw that the accursed Cluma had overthrown the local obelisk to his deity; he recalls the mission his masters at the temple had sent him on.  He dreams of the Egg of Na'Rat.

They whirl like a tornado, his dreams; they go back to times long past, to the Sea Wraith.  He recalls again the fight against the roper that left him drained and weak, and how he struggled madly as his companions pulled the hat from his brow and hurled it into the fire.  He remembers, in his night visions, the horrible thirst and hunger that came over him immediately afterwards- eating and eating, gulping down water, trying to restore himself.  And then....

The lich.

Deep in the caves on the party's land on Dorla, Clambake recalls the deadly battle.  The ghastly mouth that sprouted from the door, warning them- _Go back or you will be destroyed!_ it cried, but the party did not heed it.  

And destroyed they were, or very near.

Descending a jagged, difficult wall, the party found themselves facing their most difficult foe ever.

When the undead mage rose up to battle them, Krunkshank blasted at it with a pair of _fireballs_, but the lich- announcing itself as Alexis- only cackled evilly, casting a spell to increase its speed and then displacing itself.  Till, Horbin's shield man, cried out in fear even as Droidi prepared to flee and the halfling barbarian that had only recently joined with the group fled, using a _potion of spider climb_ to escape out the jagged wall and out into the day.

Krunkshank kept fighting while Captain Clambake tried to unlock the door that sealed behind the group, desperately seeking escape.  Flames and _searing lights_ burst from the elementalist at the lich, but its response was terrifyingly effective: a spray of scintillating prismatic colors that devestated the group, leaving Krunkshank petrified and Droidi and Onald dead!

Horbin moved in with the holy mace he'd been given by his church on Dorhaus so long ago, Till trying to aid him; but his blows seemed almost useless, missing badly.  And Alexis laid the cleric low with a touch, paralyzing him for all time and _slowing_ the rest of the group.

But now Till showed his true colors, fighting valiantly- perhaps foolishly- grabbing up his master's holy mace and trying his best.  The lich laughed, a hollow sound that chilled the blood, as Clambake finally opened the door atop the wall.  Turning, he saw-

Only Till remained to battle the lich.  Who only laughed at him, taunting the boy, discounting him as a threat.

Alexis was wounded, though, burnt from Krunkshank's _fireballs, searing lights _and _flaming spheres._  So Clambake, rather than letting his companions all die- the companions who had saved him from the hat- did the only thing he could think of- he hurled a vial of holy water at the lich.  It shattered on impact, dousing Alexis' face with the liquid.  And the lich looked up at Clambake with murder in his eyes and saw something- a resolve that would not quit- and suffered a terrible blow from the holy mace!

With a hiss, Alexis cried out, _"We shall meet again!"_ and vanished.

It took Till and Clambake hours to haul the paralyzed Horbin back to Poppin, and a promise to leave Dorla forever to get Tangus the Brilliant- Mayor Tangus, of course- to remove the paralysis that would have let the cleric starve.  And Horbin raised the dead, broke the petrification of Krunkshank, and the group left.  Except, perhaps, for Droidi, who may have stayed in his hidden caves with the bugbears..._

Clambake wakes up.  Morning has come, and he has an Egg to locate.

***


Well, there ya go- the final update of the original story hour in my game!  But the tale's not truly over til the TPK comes... for more of the adventures of Horbin, five years later, see "Agents of Chaos" and then "To War Against Felenga," and watch for the tale of the Egg of Na'Rat, coming soon- probably in its own thread!

Thanks, everyone who kept prodding at me to finish it!


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## Technik4 (Jul 20, 2003)

*Drumroll!*

Wooohoooooo! What a great ride Jester, thanks for wrapping it up. Although, I gotta ask, is this the last of Cpt. Clambake?

Technik


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## the Jester (Jul 20, 2003)

*Re: Drumroll!*



			
				Technik4 said:
			
		

> *Wooohoooooo! What a great ride Jester, thanks for wrapping it up. Although, I gotta ask, is this the last of Cpt. Clambake?
> 
> Technik *




Heck no!  He'll be featuring prominently in the upcoming storyline (prolly in a new thread) "Egg of Na'Rat!"

And you never know what'll happen in the future.

By the way, I'm probably gonna start an 'Early Years' story hour thread sometime soon too...


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## Welverin (Jul 21, 2003)

*Arr!*

Yeah! Here I was worried the good Captain would lose his piratical accent after losing his captains hat.


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## Mathew_Freeman (Jul 22, 2003)

Please make sure to link to any new threads in your old threads! That way, we can all follow you around. Thanks very much for all the fun.

"ARRRRR!"


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## the Jester (Jul 24, 2003)

I started the thread that follows directly from Clambake's post here, for everyone who's interested.


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