# Campaign of DM Cthulu Ftaghn



## cthuluftaghn (May 31, 2002)

Hail,

I am proud to announce the publication of my new website.  It is dedicated to my Dungeons & Dragons 3E campaign through the Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil, by Monte Cook.

You can visit my site here. 

The "Characters" page gives full introductions for each of the PC's in the campaign... be they alive or dead.

The "World" page gives detailed descriptions and pictures of every NPC, monster, and location that the PC's have encountered so far.

The "Tales" page is where you can find the up-to-date journal of our adventures.

Be sure to check out the rest of the site as well, including a comprehensive list of links to dozens of d20 publishing companies, custom-made interactive maps for use with the adventure, and more!

I'll start posting the material from my campaign journal below, in small sections.


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## cthuluftaghn (May 31, 2002)

*Character 1: Willow*

Here is the first character description out of 7 that are taking part in my campaign.  I will post one per day, and then I will start posting the actual adventure journal.  I hope you enjoy it!

WILLOW : Female Drd (4) – After many peaceful months of rest and relaxation, Willow awoke in the pre-dawn hours and slipped silently out of her bed. She stoked the fire to take the morning chill out of the house, and then headed outdoors for some quiet time alone.

Willow carried last week’s bed linens down to the stream and began scrubbing them against the washing stones at a leisurely pace, enjoying the solitude and the sparkling Spring sunrise, watching the light twinkle in the dew. Upon finishing her chore, Willow piled the damp sheets back into her basket and went for a brief walk in the forest in front of her home. She figured she still had some time before her family started to stir from their beds.

Gazing at the trees as she walked, the druid reflected on her past adventures and wondered if maybe it was time to just settle down and enjoy this new life she had made for herself. Her daydream was interrupted by the cackle and caw of a raven overhead. “Better get back home,” she thought to herself. Willow quickened her pace and headed back to the stream. As she approached, it was apparent that her laundry had been tampered with. “Silly squirrels,” she called out playfully toward the trees. “No caba nuts for you today!” she chuckled.

Willow grabbed her linen basket and headed to her back yard where she could hang the sheets in the rising morning sun. She tossed the first cloth over the line and froze. It wasn’t a squirrel that had tampered with her laundry. A single word, scrawled in crude charcoal letters across her newborn’s receiving blanket, stared at her as it hung limply from her clothesline. “Hommlet.” Beneath the lettering was the blood-red imprint of an eagle’s claw.

Willow grabbed the blanket off of the line and walked into her house, directly to her bedchamber. Without a word, she quickly and quietly reached under the bed where her sleeping husband still snored (and smiled from last night’s pleasures), and she shouldered a pack that had been left untouched for almost a year. She then moved across the room to look in on her slumbering child. A tear rolled down her cheek as she turned and walked away.

Her resolve strengthening by the moment, Willow marched out the door, pausing only to throw the receiving blanket into the fireplace. She headed out the garden gate and towards the distant road. As she reached the hilltop, she stopped only once to look back. With a final sigh of resignation, Willow plucked a fresh sprig of mistletoe from near the fence on the grassy knoll, and began the long journey to Hommlet.


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## Gann Tolar (May 31, 2002)

I play the character Gann Tolar in DM Cthulu's Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil campaign.  So far I'm proud to say I've survived one action-packed gaming session and I'm looking forward to the next.  For fans of story hours such as Wulf Ratbane's, check back on this thread frequently ... DM Cthulu has some great stuff in store for us!


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## Jodo Kast (Jun 1, 2002)

BUMP!


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 1, 2002)

*Character 2: Davok*

Davok : Male Bar(4) – Davok is a simple man with simple needs. Actually, he has one very basic simple need. Food. Not the brightest tinder in the fire, but strong as two oxes, he’s a valuable member of any hunting party. Davok was sitting in his hunting camp doing what he does best. Eating.

The night air was chilly this far north, but Davok’s great bulk kept him warm, even this far away from the campfire. Not much for conversation, the mighty barbarian often found himself sitting apart from the others. Left alone with his thoughts… few and far between as they may be… and his mutton, he was content.

This was a particularly eventful expedition for Davok and his fellow tribesmen, as was evidenced by the loaded wagon at the back of the camp. It was Spring, and time to repair the damages of the past Winter, and to start preparing for the Winter to come. Already, the mighty hunters had gathered more than enough hides to meet their needs. Not only that, they had cleared out a clan of bugbears that could have posed a serious threat to the tribe! That battle was a tremendous success thanks to the fighting prowess of the mighty Davok.

The barbarian warrior finished his late dinner (which is the meal that follows mid-dinner and early-dinner), and shuffled over to his bedroll for some much needed sleep. He had just settled down when a piercing shriek shattered the silence of the night. Davok sat bolt upright. That was the cry of an eagle!

Davok grabbed his weapon and charged through the woods. The other members of the hunting party were on their feet as well. The men headed in the direction from which the noise came until they entered a small clearing, glowing with a dim light from an unseen source. It was the tree at the back of the bare patch of forest that caught Davok’s eye. On the pale bark of the wide trunk, the silhouette of a spread-winged eagle had been painted in still-fresh blood.

The rest of the hunters were quite alarmed at this omen, but Davok was frantic. His attention was focused on the strange symbols scrawled beneath the crude painting. “Wiseman!” he called. “Where is the wiseman?!” He knew the symbols had great significance, but he couldn’t decipher their meaning.

“I am here, great warrior. Fear not!” said the wiseman as he entered the clearing. “What is all the worry for?”

“What are these markings, wiseman? What do they mean? I must know what these mean!” Davok pointed to the tree, his huge arms rippling with tension. “NOW, wiseman, what do they mean?”

“Be calm, large one. These are no symbols of great mystical importance. It is simply a word in the common tongue. It reads, ‘Hommlet’. It means nothing. I believe it’s nothing more than an insignificant village to the south. Some rather interesting points about it, though, as I recall. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning if it will make you feel better. Now stop troubling yourself and go back to… where did Davok go?”

Davok heard nothing beyond the word “Hommlet.” He was already half a mile away, heading toward the distant village by the time his fellow tribesmen realized he was gone.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 2, 2002)

*Character 3: Tas*

Tas: Rog(4) – Tas was having a bad day. He was now fleeing from the third person, in less than two hours, who wanted to cut his throat. This time, he wasn’t running from a pompous nobleman who was more worried about dirtying his shoes than catching the thief (always an easy escape). Tas was currently being pursued by a skilled Paladin of Pelor who was very upset about losing a prize gemmed dagger, blessed by his god.

As he darted amongst pedestrian traffic… tipping over carts, barrels and crates, and causing a general uproar along the way… the halfing was thinking that this was NOT the way to make a living. This life of petty thievery was somehow not meeting up to Tas’s standards of fortune and glory. His depressed mood was punctuated as he landed in a pile of manure while hurdling a mule being led to the market.

A few twists, jumps and backtracks later, Tas was free from his pursuer. He was never worried, he always got away, but this routine was getting old. This was nothing like the life of high adventure he had with the Order of the Eagle. Sure, they were a bunch of self-righteous goody goodies, but at least he had a purpose when he traveled with them. Tas sighed with discontent as he climbed up the drainpipe that led to his dingy hidden loft in the city’s river borough.

Tas entered his home through the open window. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used the door. The latch and hinges were probably rusted beyond use. The halfling casually tossed his pouches down on his bedroll, and grabbed a hunk of stale bread left over from breakfast. He took a large bite, and settled in to examine the day’s booty.

First, he’d count the cash. Tas wondered, with a dark chuckle, if the poor merchant even knew it was missing yet. “Stupid fat slob”, the halfling thought to himself as he shook the bag. “Half the marketplace yelling ‘stop thief!’ and he hadn’t the slightest idea that he was my mark. And he was the loudest among them!” The coins rolled over each other in the sack with a light jingle, not the deep jangle of gold. The skilled rogue knew that there was a significant difference between a light jingle and a deep jangle. Tas tore the bag open excitedly. “Platinum!” he squawked, and dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor. “More than enough to finally pay off my crossbow!” Maybe this wasn’t such a bad day after all!

The second “treasure” of the day wasn’t quite as impressive. After following her for more than an hour, Tas had thought for sure that he saw his mark place a rare jade statuette into her pouch. It was the very same pouch that he now held in his lap. As it turned out, the item was nothing more than a child’s toy, carved out of green soapstone. Disappointed, Tas added the figurine to the ledge above his bedroll. The makeshift shelf was already littered with dozens of similar “rare statuettes” that held a street value equal to that of a half-eaten chunk of bitter cheese.

“Now, for the big catch!” Tas said out loud to the empty loft. He reached into his inner pocket to retrieve the blessed dagger that had caused him so much trouble, and such stinky shoes. As the thief moved his prize into view, he recoiled and dropped it. “That’s not my dagger!” he yelled, angry at this turn of fate. The object that lay before him was most assuredly not a holy weapon of Pelor.

Tas reached down and picked up the eagle talon he had dropped. The razor sharp claw was capped by a small piece of cork, onto which the word “Hommlet” was deeply scratched. The dark-hearted rogue actually felt a slight glimmer of excitement course through his veins. He finally had an excuse, and the means, to get out of this flea-hole and seek out some real fortune and glory! It was then that he noticed something wasn’t quite right. The talon hadn’t been shed as a part of a healthy eagle’s regular molting cycle. This claw was still attached to the bloody severed stump of the mighty bird’s toe, from which it was violently torn.


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## Jodo Kast (Jun 3, 2002)

What do we want?  GANN TOLAR!  When do we want him?  NOW!


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 3, 2002)

*Character 4: Endora*

A wise GM once told me, if you post just one tidbit each day, you'll have them frothing at the mouths wanting more.  So... in the interest of quality frothage.... here, in place of the Gann Tolar character lead-in, is Endora!  

Endora : Female Pal(4) - The month of Coldeven was synonymous with hard manual labor for the young paladins and acolytes at the Temple of Heironeous. At the first sign of springtime, the elder clerics started fussing about the condition of the temple grounds and gardens. For Endora, that meant endless hours of weeding and tilling. “How does THIS bring glory to the name of Heironeous!?” she lamented as she scraped dirt from under her fingernails.

Things had been quiet and peaceful at the temple for quite some time now. While the importance of constant vigilance and reverence was stressed daily by the elder clerics, the attitude simply wasn’t being felt by the underlings. Being holed up within the temple walls for months at a time took all the excitement away from being a holy warrior. Endora yearned to be out in the world smiting evil with her mighty longsword in the name of Heironeous! Her dreams crashed down into reality as she swatted a mosquito with the flat of her garden shovel. “I smite thee, evil bug”, she said half-heartedly. In Endora’s imagination, the insect rose up as a monstrous six-legged undead blood-sucking terror for her to defeat in glorious battle! On Endora’s forearm, it stayed squashed and dead.

The familiar kerrRRANG of the dinner bell woke the young paladin from her daydream. Finally, she could clean off this filth and get dressed up in her shining armor for dinner and vespers. The cold steel against her breast went a long way in making Endora feel better about her station here at the temple. As she picked up her tools and headed for the garden shed, another familiar noise assailed her eardrums and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. An eagle, and a large one by the sound of it, had cried out from the northern end of the garden.

Endora dropped her tools in the dirt and sprinted across the stepping-stones. At last, a call to service! This could finally be her big chance to prove her worthiness in the service of her god. With that thought in mind, Endora added a bit more spring to her step as she rushed into the small grove of trees planted by the clerics of days gone by.

Endora searched feverishly from branch to branch for the object that she knew she must find. A small leather bag, containing a highly polished eagle-eye gemstone, was the calling card of her earthly mentor. He was a kind and generous nobleman known only as The Eagle. The paladin had never met The Eagle face to face. In fact, none of her adventuring companions had. However, his heart was kind and his mission was clear… smite evil at its source! Endora found it an honor to fight under his command, for the glory of Heironeous. It had been nearly a year since she had parted company with the Order of the Eagle to study and train at the temple. For Endora, the Eagle’s summons was long overdue!

The woman’s hair brushed against something as she ducked under a low branch. “There it is!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper… not wanting the others to notice that she wasn’t obediently answering the dinner call. Endora reached up and untied the tiny leather fastener from the branch and opened the pouch. She pulled out the rolled up parchment inside and saw the word “Hommlet” written in black ink. That’s all she needed to see. Endora bolted for her bedchamber to prepare for travel on the open road.

When Endora got to her room, she tossed the pouch down on her pallet and started packing. Hommlet was several days away, and she dreaded the thought of being the last one of the Order to arrive. She would leave tonight! The young paladin could barely contain her excitement as she fastened the final clasp of her shimmering breastplate.

After strapping her sword belt around her slender waist with pride, Endora picked the pouch up from her bed. She had a growing collection of eagle-eye gems stored in her keepsake box underneath a floorboard in her room. Bending to one knee, Endora reached down and slid the box out from its hiding place and opened the lid. Once again untying the leather fastener, she overturned the pouch into the box to add her newest gem to her collection. The contents landed among the small pile of stones with a wet splat.

Endora jolted upright, quickly and in shock. With minor trepidation, she bent down for a closer look at what had fallen out of the bag. Reaching into the box, she gingerly removed what she determined to be a very real, still-bloody eye that had been cut from the head of a giant eagle.

Endora was out the door and on her way to Hommlet in a flash, not even thinking to hide her valuable personal possessions back under the floorboard.


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## Jodo Kast (Jun 3, 2002)

Aaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhh!


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## Malessa (Jun 4, 2002)

*Character 5: Gann Tolar*

NOTE:  I was accidentally logged in on my wife's account when I posted this.  It's really me... Cthulu... honest!

Alright... it's after midnight, so technically it's a new day.  All the regular members of the Order of the Eagle have been listed.  So, I guess it's time to step outside the Order.  This version of the Gann Tolar write-up varies only slightly from what is posted on my website.  What follows has been edited for the novel that will be written for our campaign...

Gann Tolar: Male Clr(2)/Ftr(1)/Rog(1) – Gann Tolar was crouched low among the bushes… again. Gann seemed to be spending a lot of time crouched in bushes lately. Usually they had prickers on them, or else they were infested with biting ants. This particular clump of bushes, however, was of a pleasant leafy variety of evergreen dwarf shrubs. No ants. Gann was thinking that if he had to be crouched among bushes, this was definitely a prime choice of shrubbery.

The uncharacteristically lighthearted musing was quickly erased from the vengeful cleric’s thoughts as he caught sight of his quarry. Now, only one thought dominated Gann’s mind. “This demon-spawn shall surely die by my hand.” He had been following the traveling party of the man in the ochre colored robes for weeks now, observing him as he made a series shady deals in an effort to collect an impressive stockpile of evil artifacts. “This catalyst of demonic power will not live to see the light of the coming day.”

Gann Tolar watched as the man worked, silently and alone, to finish loading the small wooden wagon. Dozens of bundles, each carefully wrapped in a sheet of canvas, were placed inside.  When he was finished, the pile was nearly spilling over the considerable height of the side rails. The man produced a large burlap cloth from a crate which was sitting on the side of the road, and with it he covered up his cumbersome load.

Gann smiled to himself as he watched the evil man grow weary in his labors. The man’s former companions, two human lackeys and a gnoll warrior, were cut down in the night by the stealthy cleric of St. Cuthbert. Now, the man was working feverishly to finish his task and get moving away from this place of death. Gann alone knew that it was a journey the man would never make. Once this demon-loving wizard of the abyss was slain, Gann would take the wagon back to the church for the high clerics to examine. For now, the killing blow could wait until the hard labor was done.

The sound of hoof beats, unexpectedly close, set Gann on alert. The evil man looked fearful, and he hiked up his robes as he scrambled into the driver’s seat and grabbed the reins. He was about to pull away, when two riders in black appeared out of the darkness to block his path. The night suddenly seemed much darker, and Gann Tolar strained his eyes to see what was happening.

One of the riders, a woman, spoke. “You should already be far from here, Ralinthe. Where are the others?” She sounded angry, and she spoke with astounding authority for one of her small stature.

“Dead,” the man answered with a quiver in his voice. “Killed by an unseen hand in the night.”

“Auurgh!” bellowed the woman. “You have been observed! You worthless fool! The Dark Master has no use for the services of a bungler such as you. Your failure has cost us dearly. Dunrat, destroy this evidence. Another wagon will have to be sent. We cannot risk exposure.” The woman turned her horse and galloped off into the night.

The second figure, presumably the one called Dunrat, dismounted and slowly approached the wagon of the man in the ochre robes. “You don’t have to do this, Master," whined the man. "I can be of service elsewhere. I am forever loyal to you, you know that!”

“I know nothing other than the fact that you are an incompetent fool, Ralinthe. You will serve our Dark Master in a more appropriate capacity in death.” Gann watched as Dunrat pulled a wand from his robe and leveled it at the wagon.

“NO, Master. Noooo. Take me with you to Hommlet. I will serve you well. I swear it! Please, Master. Please take me…..” Ralinthe’s desperate pleading ended abruptly as a ball of flame erupted from the tip of the wand and engulfed the wagon.  The blast instantly incinerating the cargo, the driver, and the mule. Gann buried his head in his hands as he watched the object of his toils crumble to ash.

Dunrat mounted his steed and stayed to watch until the last of the flames burned themselves out. In the light of the dying fire, Gann thought he detected a look of sadness in the man’s dark eyes. “Yes, my brother,” the man in black said out loud. “You were quite incompetent.” As he reined in his horse and slowly trotted away, Gann heard him mutter under his breath, “…and you had a big mouth.”

Gann Tolar waited for several moments before he emerged from his hiding place. He stretched and twisted, working out his cramps as he shuffled his way out to the road. Disgusted, he sifted through the cinders of what used to be the wagon, hoping to find anything salvageable to take with him as evidence of the demonic evil he had uncovered. He knew it was hopeless. Nothing remained.

“So,” Gann thought to himself as he glanced down the road. “Demon spawn-boy has a master.” He kicked at the ground where he judged a good-sized pile of what used to be Ralinthe to be laying, and he stirred up a small cloud of ash. “I have no tolerance for evil.  You deserved a fate much worse, Ralinthe. May this Dark Master of yours wreak his vengeance on you for your failure. However, I thank you kindly for your big mouth.” Gann headed up the road and to the east. Towards Hommlet.


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## Jodo Kast (Jun 4, 2002)

At last, a hero hell-bent on smiting evil!  All hail Gann Tolar, conquering hero!  For those who have not guessed already, I am Gann Tolar.  I simply switched my username when I began posting my Star Wars - Tales from the Outer Rim story hour.  Gann is something of a departure for me.  I usually play cerebral characters, but with Gann I'm looking for the attitude of Batman, but the single-minded simplicity of the Tick.  Gann is not stupid, he just has tunnel vision, and it's a very long, dark tunnel indeed, not the good kind of tunnel that helps you get where you are going under mountains or other natural obstacles, but the bad kind of tunnel, with villains at the other side, a tunnel Gann must navigate bravely so that at the end he may plant his steel-toed boot firmly in the a$$-end of evil!  Sorry, I got a little carried away there ....

Gann has recently discovered one other goal.  Seems he's rather attracted to the barwench Maridosen.  Of course, he fully expects to discover that she is a fiendish half-dragon, behind the entire plot to turn Hommlet into a hellmouth from which evil may flow freely into the world.  Did I mention he's slightly paranoid?


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 4, 2002)

Thank you kindly for carefully editing your post with "$$".  I don't want filthy words like "pudu" appearing on my thread.  Doh!  I went and said it!


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 5, 2002)

*Character 6: Tyris*

Tyris : Female Genasi Sor(4) -  Enough was enough!  Tyris was fed up with her sorry excuse for a life.  She was tired of the boredom, the restrictions, and the general derision that was poured upon her in vast quantity by the members of her father's house.  Most of all, she was sick and tired of the infernal heat! 

 Of course, heat was to be expected on the elemental plane of fire.  It came with the territory.  However, the human blood flowing through Tyris' veins yearned to feel a cool, sweet breeze blowing across a grassy field.  She just wanted to SEE a grassy field with her own eyes, not an artist's sketch in some book.  Tyris was a genasi, the half-human daughter of a greater djinn.  Her mother had died horribly in childbirth, and to her father she was nothing more than an object of shame.  The revelation that he had spawned a bastard half-breed child nearly cost Aymax his position as chancellor of the Protectorate Counsel of the Inner Planes. 

 Tyris didn't care about the Protectorate Counsel, or what they thought of her.  She didn't care about her father, his so-called honor, or his stupid rules.  "After tonight," she thought, "It won't matter anymore."  Tyris was leaving.  She didn't know how to get past the sentries, or where she would go (she had never been beyond the walls of Aymax's estate), but Tyris knew that she would never be happy unless she escaped her palace prison. 

 Quietly and carefully, Tyris tiptoed down the long marble corridor that led from her secluded dormitory wing to the stairs that descended into the lower courtyard.  To reach the stairs, she would have to sneak directly past the open door of the Counsel chamber.  Tyris wasn't too concerned.  She'd been slipping out to the courtyard unseen for years.  In all that time, she'd only been caught once.  The memory of that incident caused Tyris to absentmindedly scratch at the scars left behind from the thorough lashing she had received.  Determined, the young sorceress shook the thought from her mind and focused on stealth.  The door lie just ahead, and Counsel was in session. 

 Tyris didn't know what this meeting was about, not that it should concern her, but she knew that it was of vital importance to Aymax.  Her father had summoned the other Counsel members just hours ago and demanded their immediate presence, under penalty of banishment to the water plane for failing to appear.  Tyris was counting on the subject matter at hand to keep the djinns distracted while she slipped by. 

 As she approached, Tyris could hear her father's voice booming across the chamber.  "...CANNOT BE PERMITTED." he raged.  "If he succeeds..." 

 Tyris had never heard Aymax so upset.  The thought of what would happen if he discovered her while in such a state frightened her.  The tirade continued.  "...utter DISASTER for the mortals, and could jeopardize the stability of the planar structure!" 

 "Well, that doesn't sound good," Tyris thought to herself.  "Maybe I should find out what's going on."  She crept closer to the door to listen more carefully.   

"I shall go Aymax, it is the only way.  Only I know the workings of the mortals well enough to have any hope of stopping this."  Tyris recognized the voice of Aeglos.  He was the only djinn who had ever displayed kindness towards her, probably because of his own ties to the Material Plane.  While growing up, Tyris would sit enthralled as Aeglos regaled her with tales of wondrous adventures in a land known as the Flanaess.  Intrigued by what she was hearing, she leaned closer. 

 "Very well, Aeglos," her father conceded.  "You have always served us well. I know you shall not fail us now.  You will leave immediately.  The gate shall be opened." 

 A gate! Tyris couldn't believe her good fortune.  She was about to witness the opening of a portal to another plane.  If only there was some way to reach it, she could be free from this place forever.  She watched intently as her father began the spell that would bend space and time to his will. Her mind was spinning in a thousand directions at once.  Suddenly, with a flash, a spinning vortex of light and wind opened in the room before her. Without hesitation, Aeglos stepped into the portal and was gone.  Tyris gasped out loud as she realized that she was standing in the middle of the open doorway, mouth agape. 

 "TYRIS!!!  What are YOU DOING?!?!"   

In that moment, Tyris could see that Aymax was so furious that she wasn't sure she would survive the beating that she would receive if he got his hands on her.  Not knowing what else to do, she ran... towards the portal! She ducked and dodged past the groping arms of the Counsel members, and then there was nothing but a short stretch of marble floor between Tyris and her freedom.  Her excitement was short-lived.  The gate was beginning to close. 

 Tyris sprinted.  Just a few feet away from the planar gate, her raging father loomed in front of her.  In a final act of spur-of-the-moment desperation, Tyris hit the floor in a full belly slide across the highly polished stone.  She slid right between the enormous legs of the angry djinn, and into the portal a moment before it closed. 

 And she fell. 

 Tyris was in the open air hundreds of feet above the very solid, and fast approaching ground below.  Her first thought was of the beauty of it all. She saw a town on a hilltop nestled amongst trees of the deepest green she had ever seen. There was a stream running through it, right there near the houses!  She had never seen so much water in one place, and couldn't imagine having a stream right outside her back door.  How wonderful! 

 Her next thought was of the cold.  The air rushed past her as she fell, and it quickly chilled her to the bone.  Tyris had never felt cold before, and while this new sensation was thrilling to her, it was starting to be quite uncomfortable.  Her discomfort brought about the realization of her predicament.   Then came the fear.  She was going to die. 

As the trees rushed up to meet her, Tyris was terrified.  This was certainly not what she bargained for.  This was not the kind of freedom she had expected. Then, inexplicably, she could hear her father's voice echoing loudly in her skull. "With this act, I am free of you.  My obligation to you is done."  Tyris' terror shifted momentarily to confusion, then quickly back to terror.  As her arms touched the treetops, her father spoke one final word.  "Pveatherfall." 

 Tyris' consciousness exploded in a cloud of whiteness. 

NOTES:  Aymax is intentionally a djinn living on the elemental plane of fire, not an efreeti.  He moved into the palatial estate of the former Chancellor of the Protectorate Counsel of the Inner Planes when he started his reign.  Tyris is a fire genasi, not an air genasi as would be implied by her being the daughter of a djinn.  Aymax would rather face the derision of claiming an illegitimate child as his own than the humiliation of publicly admitting the infidelity of his human lover.  This explains the attitude Aymax has towards Tyris.  Although the racial difference between the two is obvious, no one would dare question the greater djinn's claim of paternity.


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## Malessa (Jun 6, 2002)

*Character 7: Danric*

Note:  Danric, the final PC in this adventure, is a "filler character" that will be run by the DM in the event of an unexpected party vacancy.  He will not be a regular PC in this campaign, but he will show up from time to time.

Danric: Male Rog(2)/Mnk(2) – Danric was on the street, which is nothing out of the ordinary. He spends most of his time there… observing, listening, and feeling the heartbeat of the city. He is a member of the City Watch Elite. Danric is used by the Elite to obtain evidence and information in the interest of the safety of the High Nobility. He is trained in how to work undercover. He moves about freely in places where he is most unwelcome. He hears conversations he was not meant to hear. He acquires items that he is not meant to possess. More recently, Danric has had to learn how to fight his way out of the trouble he frequently gets himself into. He has been trained to kill without a weapon and without a trace.

On this particular day, however, none of that mattered. Danric was on the street for a different reason. He was playing a game of sticks with a gang of the local street children, and his team was losing. Danric was up for his turn to swing. He held his stick out and eyed the tosser with his eagle-sharp eyes, awaiting the throw. The stone came at him, and Danric swung with all his might. With a hearty “crack”, the stone flew through the air, high and almost out of sight.

The cheers of his teammates were short-lived as the “crack” was suddenly followed by a “crash”… then the yelling started… and the running came soon after. Chester the glassworks vendor was in a rage! The children scattered and Danric did one of the things he does best. He disappeared.

After things calmed down a bit, Danric came out of hiding and started heading back toward the Watch station. As he passed through an alleyway near where the game of sticks had taken place, he crossed paths with two of the youngsters that were on the opposing, and thus winning, team. They smiled when they saw him and approached him for a high-five and some good-natured jesting.

As their hands were about to slap together, Danric caught a slight change in the boy’s expression, as his gaze seemed to shift slightly to something behind him. Danric’s reflexes and sharp ears kicked into action and he twisted to the side and brought his arm across his chest in an arcing motion… just in time to slap a speeding arrow out of the air.

The boys ran off in a panic, and Danric crouched into a defensive position. Cautiously, he peered out from a doorway looking for his attacker. No one was in sight, and no follow-up attack came, so he turned his attention to the arrow. As soon as he picked it up, his posture changed from alert to one of urgency. He dropped the arrow and ran back to his bunkroom to fetch some belongings and to prepare for an unplanned journey.

With the alleyway now empty and the danger apparently gone, one of the young boys let his curiosity overcome his fear. He crept out of his hiding spot behind some stacked crates, and approached the fallen arrow with much caution. He picked it up in his hands and noticed something strange. The extra-thick shaft seemed to have markings burned into it. As the boy turned it towards himself, he could see that the markings appeared to form a word. “Hommlet”. As he twisted the arrow shaft in his hands, the boy’s wrist brushed against the feathers. He dropped the arrow in alarm. After staring in disgust at the stain on his wrist, he crouched down to take a more careful look at the arrow…. from a distance this time! The fletching was not what one would expect to see on a plain hunting arrow. These were the fine feathers of a mighty eagle. And they were soaked in blood.

The lad stood up and stared down the alleyway in the direction he had seen Danric run. He wondered what, exactly, his friend had gotten himself involved in. With a pang of regret, he wondered if he, and the other children of the streets, would ever see him again.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 6, 2002)

*Before the adventure begins..*

Now that I have posted the lead-ins for all of the PC's, I thought I'd take advantage of the opportunity to plug some of the other features of DM Cthulu Ftaghn's Campaign Website.

The MESSAGE BOARD is where you can leave comments, or read up on the party's "behind the scenes" adventures between gaming sessions.  I've also begun a new series of d20 players' tips which will include useful tidbits of information ranging from combat tactics, to improving actual game play.  It will be updated daily.

The CHARACTERS page features the character lead-ins that I have already posted on this thread.  When the time comes to introduce new PC's, or bury the dead, this page will be updated.

The HOUSE RULES page explains any policy that might be confusing, or that varies from the core rules.

The WORLD page gives detailed descriptions and pictures of any NPC, monster, or location that the PC's have come across so far.  There is also a calendar of in-game events.

The OUT OF GAME page includes brief descriptions of the real-life players in my campaign, along with some information about the module and D&D in general.

The TALES page will contain the up-to-date campaign journal of our adventures in chapter book format.  Journal updates will also be posted on this thread.

The INTERACTIVE MAPS page is a special feature that is exclusive to my website.  Using Paint Shop Pro, I have created a series of interactive maps for use with this adventure.  The map can be displayed on-screen with all areas covered.  As the PC's enter each new area, the DM simply reveals the newly explored section of the map.  This will work no matter how the players roam.  These maps are also Photo Shop compatible.

Finally, the LINKS page features.... well.... links.  I've included several of my favorite D&D sites, several Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil sites, and a comprehensive list of d20 publishers.  As time permits, I am visiting each of the d20 publishing sites and leaving my review on my links page.

That's about it... for now!  Please come by and visit, and tell me what you think.

With tomorrow's post, THE ADVENTURE BEGINS.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 7, 2002)

*Prologue and Introduction*

~PROLOGUE~

Since receiving the Eagle’s summons, you have traveled day and night, with little rest, to reach the small town of Hommlet. The disturbing presence of blood on your mentor’s normal call sign has you more than a little bit worried for his safety. Hunger and fatigue are mere nuisances, and you brush them aside as you would an annoying insect as you stagger ever onward towards your goal. You don’t know what awaits you in Hommlet, but fear and excitement keep you moving forward. 

Part of you hopes that, upon your arrival, at least one of your adventuring companions will be there to explain the situation and put your mind at ease. Better yet, you secretly yearn to be the first of the group to finally meet the Eagle in person, and hear his wisdom first-hand. You and your friends have served your kind master for as long as you can remember, but none of you have ever seen his face, or heard his voice. 

It has been nearly a year since the lot of you have joined forces to serve your unseen benefactor, the mysterious nobleman known only as the Eagle. In the past, it has always been he who has protected you. He has watched over you like a loving father… or guardian angel… providing guidance, reassurance, and on more than one occasion, a well-placed Incendiary Cloud from an unseen vantage point! You have a strange notion that this time, however, things are different. You know, deep inside, that this time you are not being called to defend your mentor’s morals and ideals. You have been called upon to save his life. 

Your first task upon reaching Hommlet will be to find your companions. It is customary for your master to give you the full details of your summons only after you have joined together. You trust that the others will arrive safely and in good time. You have heard that Hommlet is a rather small town. They shouldn’t be too difficult to locate. Perhaps there is an inn there that will welcome you…

Introduction: 

Session 1: May 25, 2002 

The members of the Order of the Eagle had all arrived in Hommlet over the past several days, and they were anxiously awaiting word from their master and mentor. He was a mysterious nobleman known as The Eagle, and they had all received a disturbing bloody rendition of his familiar summons a week ago. The night before, they had joined forces with Gann Tolar, a cleric of St. Cuthbert. He had been tracking the activities of an evil wizard, when he lost the trail just outside of Hommlet two days earlier. Impressed by the Order’s devotion to their fight against evil, he willingly offered his services to the party. 

As the newcomer was describing his encounter several days ago with a dark man known only as Dunrat, the party was alerted to a disturbance outside. They rushed outdoors to find that a woman, whose hair was red as flame and skin hot to the touch, had apparently appeared out of nowhere and fallen from the sky. She lay unconscious a short distance from the inn, surrounded by tens of thousands of soft white feathers. 

The locals were disturbed by this strange occurrence, and talk of demonic influences and the need for a swift death was starting to circulate amongst the crowd. Endora, a paladin of Heironeous, sensed no evil in the injured woman and suggested that the party take responsibility for her. Before the militia was summoned, they carried the woman to their room upstairs, administered healing, and went to sleep for the night…


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 8, 2002)

*Chapter 1: Missing Persons*

Chapter One - Missing Persons 

27 Coldeven, Dawn: 

The first light of dawn shined down through the cracks in the shutters at the Inn of the Welcome Wench. Endora awoke to the sound of a shrieking eagle. The shutters rattled, and a shadow appeared from between the slats. Excited, she roused the rest of the party. Finally, their messenger had arrived. The mighty golden eagle, Pyria, had been their source of communication with their unseen benefactor for many years. He would deliver written messages back and forth between the adventurers and their master, as well as provide them with aerial protection from time to time. 

Endora threw open the shutters, and screamed. The noble bird was hanging by its neck in the open window. Pyria had been eviscerated. His entrails hung from his belly still dripping with fresh blood. One of his claws had been torn off, and his eyes had been gouged out. A slender scroll case was driven through his skull, passing through both eye sockets. 

The fiery redhead woke groggily and surveyed the scene before her. Confused, disgusted and frightened, she demanded to know what was going on. Endora cut the rope around Pyria’s neck, and she and the group turned their attention to the strange woman. Lengthy introductions were made (including everything from hair color and fashion sense, to favorite breakfast foods), and the woman known as Tyris decided to join with the party. She figured that had nothing to lose, and they had shown her kindness by taking her in, after all. 

With their minds occupied by Tyris’ intriguing story of coming to this world, and by the death of their feathered long-time companion, the group had nearly forgotten about the scroll case! Gann finally spoke up about getting on with smiting evil, and the scroll case was opened: 

“My children,
The time has come at long last for us to meet, though I fear it is under the direst of circumstances. A great evil is attempting to return to this land, and I have traced its roots here, to Hommlet. We must act quickly, for I feel that my actions are being observed by those who serve this darkness. When you receive this missive, make haste and meet me immediately at the…..” 

The note was torn off at the bottom and smeared with blood. A strange symbol was drawn on the parchment, also in blood. It was a crude triangle, divided into three sections by what looked to be an upside-down letter “Y”. Tyris and Gann shared the concern of the members of the Order of the Eagle. This was not a good sign! 

Willow, the druid, decided that the first order of business was to give Pyria a proper funeral. When she arrived in Hommlet, she had noticed that there was a well-tended grove across the street from the Inn. She suggested that they seek out the druid of the grove and request the rites of burial. She felt that their quest would be cursed while the spirit of their companion was at unrest. Endora wrapped the dead eagle in a bed sheet, and the party headed downstairs. 

Entering the common room, the party was surprised at how busy the Inn of the Welcome Wench was at this time of morning. Almost every table was occupied by hungry patrons eagerly devouring their breakfasts. The group headed for the door with Endora carrying the remains of Pyria. As they were about to depart, they were stopped by the young barmaid. She demanded to know just where they thought they were going with property of the inn on their person. 

Willow and Endora explained that they were off to the druid grove to bury the remains of a great eagle, and lifted the corner of the sheet so she could see. “We don’t do that kind of thing here,” the moody barmaid shouted. “Witchcraft and sacrifices are not welcome in our rooms. Especially on our linens! You’ll have to pay for that, and then you must leave!” 

“Witchcraft!” Willow bellowed, and slammed her fist down on the counter top. “I would NEVER harm one of nature’s creatures. How dare you accuse me of such a thing!” 

A conservative looking middle-aged woman appeared from the kitchen and asked to know what was going on. She looked perturbed. The barmaid pointed to the adventurers and accused them of destroying the property of the inn, and said that she was just about to have them thrown out. Endora explained their side of the story to the woman, and her face softened. 

“Oh my,” she said. “I hope you’re not under the impression that dead birds appearing in the window is a regular occurrence here. We try to avoid such inconveniences to our patrons. Of course, the price of the linen will be removed from your expense report to compensate you for your unpleasant experience with us.” 

The woman took the barmaid aside and appeared to give her a stern lecture about the treatment of customers, and understanding the strange ways of foreigners. The barmaid stalked off into the kitchen, and the slamming of pots and pans could be heard. The older woman approached the party once more. “You’ll have to excuse Maridosen,” she said. “She’s young and has SUCH a strong spirit. I really don’t know what we’re going to do with her.” 

Unimpressed with her first encounter with humans outside her new circle of friends, Tyris decided that she’d keep an eye on this Maridosen. She didn’t like her at all! Most of the party decided it was time to move on to the grove, but Gann chose to stay at the inn. While he respected the Order’s wishes to give their companion a proper burial, he felt that his presence would be awkward and unnecessary at the ceremony. 

In the absence of the rest of the group, Gann spoke with several of the patrons in the common room. He learned a little bit about the history of Hommlet, including its connection to the famed Temple of Elemental Evil incident from fifteen years earlier. It seemed a good percentage of the travelers through the small town were adventurers who were seeking adventure and fame near the temple proper. Most ended up leaving town disappointed. There has been no real adventure to be found near Hommlet since the forces of the temple had been vanquished more than a decade earlier. Still, the tourism of wealthy adventuring parties was good for the local commerce! 

Gann also overheard an interesting conversation between a couple of local men. It seemed that they had spent a good amount of gold at the potion shop on the other side of town, and their order was several days past due. They had tried to reach the potion maker, but they were turned away by his daughter who said he wasn’t home and to come back later. This had happened three days in a row. 

Meanwhile; Tas, Endora, Willow, Davok and Tyris headed across the street to the druid grove. On their way out the door, they took note of a man sitting on the front steps, leisurely smoking a pipe. Those that had been at the inn for a couple of days recognized the fellow as being a frequent visitor to the common room. He was sharply dressed in the attire of a successful fighter or mercenary, and had rough-looking angular features. The man stopped smoking long enough to give the party a polite nod. They ignored him and moved on. 

Passing a wagon train in the street, which they also ignored, the party crossed into the grove of trees. The grove was kept up very nicely, with several gardens of new Spring flowers. A young boy was scrambling from flower bed to flower bed with a bucket of water. He looked exhausted. An old, long-bearded man was standing in the middle of a clearing doing nothing. Willow noted that, while the grove had obviously been well-maintained through the years, it seemed to be showing signs of recent neglect. 

Willow approached the man and introduced herself. The man looked at her without interest and turned away. Then, looking like something important had just occurred to him, he turned back and smiled widely at the young druid. “Oh, yes. Hello,” he said. “My name is Jaroo. Welcome to my grove of trees. It’s a druid grove you know… because, well, I’m a druid you see! And this is my grove.” 

“Ummm…. yeah,” Willow replied. She briefly introduced her companions and explained that they had come here seeking the rites of burial for their eagle friend. He had been killed, and his body desecrated. They wanted to put him to rest in a sacred place where his remains would be safe, and his spirit would be free. Jaroo listened intently, and said nothing. Several awkward moments went by before it dawned on him that maybe he should reply. 

“Ok,” he said with finality. 

Willow and Endora were starting to question the sanity of the old druid, and they prompted him to show them a proper spot where they could perform the burial. Jaroo thought for a moment before replying, “Why right here, of course. Here is a good spot for burial rites. Yes, a burial rites ceremony. Perfect thing for a dead eagle, isn’t it? Good idea. Let me fetch my burial ceremony things…” His voice trailed off while he disappeared into a small wooden hut constructed from the intertwined limbs of living saplings. 

Tas and Davok chuckled as the women watched in disbelief. They started to discuss looking elsewhere to bury Pyria when Jaroo suddenly emerged from the hut with armloads of equipment. “Here we are,” he announced excitedly. “Got my burial ceremony things. Here’s a shovel, figured that would come in very handy for a burial, you think? And I got some books, and spices and other burial-type things here. Whatever you need. So… here you go, carry on.” Jaroo folded his hands and bowed his head, looking as reverent as possible. 

Davok grabbed the shovel, and with just a couple mighty heave-ho’s, he had dug a hole more than deep enough to bury the remains of Pyria. Jaroo looked excited. “Such a GOOD idea. A burial ceremony. Yes, why didn’t I think of that.” He once again folded his hands and bowed his head in reverence. 

The companions surrounded the grave as Willow prayed to the spirits of the wild to guide their friend safely to the afterlife. It was a very solemn moment, and everyone present… even Jaroo… was touched by her words. After her prayer, Willow asked Davok to place the remains in the grave. “Ok,” he replied. The mighty barbarian picked up the sheet containing their departed friend… and unceremoniously dumped him into the hole. 

“Davok!” Willow screamed, and smacked him across the back of the head. 

“Ummm, sorry,” he replied. He looked embarrassed, but chuckled slightly. “Thump,” he said quietly to himself, and chuckled again. 

With that, the grave was filled and the party was prepared to leave the grove. Just then, the sound of an apparent ruckus emanated from the direction of the Inn of the Welcome Wench. Willow thanked Jaroo and, receiving no response, the party headed back towards the inn. They made a mental note to keep an eye on the strange druid in the future. None of them had a good feeling about him. 

As the group cleared the grove, they saw the source of the disturbance. A young girl of nine or ten years was screaming loudly and clutching at the tunic of a sharply dressed man in official looking armor. Several of the party members recognized Elmo as the captain of the militia, who greeted them when they first arrived in Hommlet. His warm welcome, coupled with a stern warning about the consequences of starting trouble in his town, made a lasting impression on everyone who heard it. The spectacle was being observed by a small crowd of onlookers, including Gann and the man with the pipe. 

Tas, Willow, Tyris and Davok joined Gann on the steps as he asked the smoking man if he knew what was going on. In a throaty whisper, the mercenary replied that he didn’t know who the girl was. He knew that the armored man was the local captain of the watch, and apparently the girl was frantic over the disappearance of her father a few days ago. He said that when the captain tried to reassure her that everything was fine, she threw a tantrum right here in the street. 

Tas and Gann approached Elmo and asked him if they could be of assistance, while Endora, Willow and Tyris tried to calm the girl. Between sobs, she told them that her father had gone off on one of his adventures to the moathouse and never returned. He was supposed to be back three days ago, and he never left her alone to watch the shop for this long. She said that customers kept coming to her wanting their potions from Daddy, and she didn’t know what to say to them. She was frightened and sure something was wrong, and she couldn’t make anybody listen to her. The women were very understanding, and the girl finally stopped wailing and settled into a routine of rapid, shaky deep breaths. 

Meanwhile, Tas and Gann were pulled off to the side by Elmo. He told them that Spugnoir, the local potion maker, tended to go off on silly “adventures” every few weeks to “protect us from the forces of evil that would undoubtedly return one day.” Elmo explained that Spugnoir had once been a brave adventurer, and he just couldn’t let the past die. Elmo proudly announced the he, himself, had been at the fall of the temple fifteen years ago and assured the men that the evil there had been permanently defeated, and the moathouse was destroyed. “Nothing more than an occasional cluster of hobgoblins holing up in the temple grounds... not worth getting all excited about it. They don’t bother us, we don’t bother them. Really, I want the people of this town to feel safe, so I don’t like it when Spugnoir goes on an on about the ‘return of evil forces’. I’d like to keep this quiet.” 

Gann asked Elmo about Spugnoir’s latest adventure out to the moathouse. “To tell you the truth, Spugnoir’s never been gone this long. There’s nothing out there, so he always comes back within a day or two and announces that he’s assured our continued safety. This time, he has me a bit worried.” 

“Oh, my god. He’s dead!” Tas announced loudly, inspiring a new round of convulsive wailing from the girl, whose name was Renne according to Elmo. The women glared at Tas viciously and went back to trying to ease the girl’s grief. At that time, the mercenary with the pipe stepped in to intervene. 

With his throaty, accented whisper he stated, “My name is Chatrilon Unosh. Those who travel in my company often refer to me as ‘Chat’, though I don’t really care for the name myself. I am a roaming adventurer who decided to try my luck in the famed town of Hommlet. I’ve just come from this moathouse, of which the girl speaks, and I can assure you that there is nothing there, save a few rats. You’d be wasting your time looking for her father there.” 

Elmo stated that this increased his worry further, as Spugnoir wasn’t known to ever travel beyond the area of the moathouse. “Yup, he’s dead alright!” bellowed Tas. Much wailing and gnashing of teeth ensued, accompanied by the venomous glares of Endora, Willow and Tyris. 

Chatrilon said that he had gone by the Temple of Elemental Evil on his way into town about a week and a half ago. “The place is overrun by hobgoblins,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind traveling out there with you to take a few hobgoblin heads and look for this potion maker. If that is your decision, then my sword is with you.” Renne ran over to the men and started pounding on Elmo’s chest again. 

“He’s NOT at the temple, he went to the moathouse like he always does. You have to go find him there. You HAVE to,” she screamed. 

“The girl’s obviously upset and irrational,” Chatrilon said. “Isn’t there somebody that should be taking care of her while her father is still… unavailable? Like I said, I’ve been to the moathouse within the past three days, and it is empty. This man would not have run into anything dangerous there. I’ll be finishing my breakfast inside if you decide to go to the temple.” Chat left the conversation and went inside. 

“Why yes,” Elmo replied. “Haunor is Spugnoir’s assistant. I’ll have someone take the girl to him while this… situation… is brought under control.” 

The party gathered around Renne and assured her that they would find her father, and that everything would be just fine. A couple of the townsfolk came by to take Renne to Haunor, and Elmo ordered the rest of the crowd to disperse before taking his leave. 

“I’m hungry,” announced Davok. They had forgotten, with all of the excitement of last evening and this morning, none of them had eaten. For the mighty Davok, and his even mightier appetite, this just would not do! The party adjourned to the common room of the Inn of the Welcome Wench to discuss their plans for finding Spugnoir over a hot breakfast. As they made their way to the only empty table, Gann took note of Chatrilon, who was eating his own breakfast at the counter. 

After ordering, Endora expressed her distrust of the mercenary. She didn’t like his arrogant attitude, and she thought he was trying to hide something that may have been going on at the moathouse. Tyris and Willow agreed. Endora backed her opinion by stating that she detected a foul aura surrounding the man. She sensed evil in him. Davok and Gann ate in silence, and nobody had noticed that Tas was no longer seated at the table. 

The stealthy halfling had crept, unnoticed, across the bustling tavern area and ducked under the counter by Chatrilon’s side. With fingers as light as a summer breeze, Tas popped open the belt pouch at Chatrilon’s hip, and took off in a hurry with the scroll that fell to the floor. The mercenary never turned his attention away from his morning meal. 

Tas scurried back into his seat at the table and joined back in the conversation. “Yep,” he said. “I vote that we most definitely should not ask that Chat fellow to join us. In fact, I say we should leave very quickly, as soon as I finish… hey, where’s my breakfast?” Davok leaned to the side and covered his mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle the large belch that came as a result of his hearty double meal. 

After breakfast, the companions headed across the bridge to the Old Trading Post. Most of them had already been there once this week to re-stock after the long journey to Hommlet. Joman Dart met them at the counter, and the gruff old halfling scurried around his shop gathering the items requested by the party. He never stopped making wisecracks about the “adventuresome tourists” who kept his coffers full stocking up for their fruitless quests around Hommlet and the defunct Temple of Elemental Evil. 

After replenishing their ammunition and rations, the Order of the Eagle, along with their new friends Gann and Tyris, marched back across the bridge and out of town. In their quest to discover the whereabouts of the missing potion maker, they hoped to find some clue as to the whereabouts of their mentor, The Eagle.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 9, 2002)

*Chapter 2: Walk in the Woods*

Chapter Two - Walk in the Woods 

27 Coldeven, Noon: 

The companions walked out past the newly built fortress that marked the southern edge of Hommlet, and into the wilderness beyond. Joman had informed them that the trip to the moathouse would take several hours, but they could expect to reach their destination before dark if they kept up a decent pace. The group marched in silence, their individual thoughts shrouded in darkness. The members of the Order of the Eagle feared for the life of their master and life-long friend. Gann Tolar was concerned about the apparent influence of evil spreading rapidly across the land. Tyris felt lost and afraid in this strange new world that seemed so alien to her. Only Davok seemed content as he munched on another piece of dried fruit bread that he had purchased at the old trading post. 

After about three hours of steady marching, the road spilled out into a wide clearing as it crested a low rise. Willow called a halt as she noticed that a large number of small forest creatures were scrambling out from the underbrush, approximately thirty feet behind the party and to the left. Weapons were raised, and Gann started to move slowly towards the tree line to investigate. The forest went deathly silent for a split second before a man-sized insect creature crashed out of the bushes several meters in front of Gann.

“Ankheg!” yelled the cleric as he raised his mace in a salute of honor toward his foe. Before he or the creature could move, Tas and Endora had each fired an arrow deep into its flank. It reared its head in pain and rage and turned to charge the party…. just in time to catch Gann’s mighty weapon crashing through its skull. It’s head exploded in a shower of sticky goo, which splattered across Gann’s chest. It quivered for a moment, and fell to the ground with a heavy, wet thud.

The party had no time to celebrate their first victory together in battle. They watched helplessly as Gann clutched at his throat, choking and gasping for fresh air. “Acid,” he croaked, as the ankheg’s corrosive fluids ate away at his chest piece. Noxious plumes of yellow smoke rose from his chest, and straight into his face, as he struggled to remove his tunic and armor. As he flailed blindly about, a second figure came charging out of the woods straight towards the vulnerable cleric.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaah!” bellowed the lone human figure as he plowed his way through the undergrowth. With a wild look on his face and a dagger held aloft, in position for a deadly strike, the man charged straight towards Gann Tolar. Acting on instinct, Willow fired a single bullet from her sling at this newly arrived threat. The speeding stone struck the man square on the kneecap.

“Owieeee!” he yelled, clutching his wounded knee. “Wutcha do that for. Ooooh… ow!” The man hopped around in circles in a most comical fashion for a moment or two, until his eyes caught site of the dead insect beast before him. Suddenly forgetting about his injury, the odd fellow gripped his dagger once again in both hands and plunged it to the hilt into the ankheg’s back. With a triumphant look on his face, he removed his weapon, wiped it off in the dirt and slid it back into its sheath. “I got ‘im, I did,” he exclaimed. “I got ‘im yes indeed. Me name’s Del the trapper, a trapper I am. Got me squirrels and foxes and badgers I do. If a pelt ya need, a trapper I am. Got me squirrels and foxes and badgers. Now I got me one o’ these big bugs too… weeooo!”

“Pardon me,” said Gann in a grim monotone, finally able to breathe. “This is our kill. It was I who slew this creature.”

“No it wasn’t,” said Del. “I killed it meself with me mighty dagger, I did. Ya saw me too, ya did. I killed it with me dagger, just like I killed me squirrels and foxes and badgers.” The old fool bent over the beast and started prying off a piece if its shell. The rest of the party approached and started to gather around behind Gann, who was growing red in the face.

He picked up his mace and approached the old man with fire in his eyes. “Excuse me, sir,” the cleric began in a venomous tone. “This is our kill, and you have no right to claim it as your own. Now if you’ll kindly step aside…”

“I killed the big bug with me dagger,” Del retorted with glee. “I got me squirrels and foxes and badgers, and now I got me this big bug, I do. Weeooo.”

“If you don’t stand aside, you’ll have my mace in your face!” shouted Gann indignantly.

Del stared at Gann for a moment, and then diverted his attention to Tyris. “Not very friendly, is he lass? But you, pretty thing you are, you are. You could use a pelt from Ol’ Del, could ya? Got squirrels and foxes…”

“…and badgers, I KNOW,” Tyris finished for him.

“This guy’s an idiot,” said Tas. The halfling’s sharp eyes had already appraised Ol’ Del’s meager possessions and, seeing nothing of value or interest, he quickly lost interest in the conversation. “I say we ditch him and keep going.”

“Maybe he can help us,” suggested Endora. “Ummm Del ? We’re looking for someone who is missing somewhere around the moathouse. Maybe you’ve seen him. Do you know a man from Hommlet by the name of Spugnoir?”

“Spoooooooooonwaaaaaaaar,” cooed Del happily. “Of course I knows Spooooonwaaaar, I do. He buys me pelts from me, he does. Me squirrels and foxes AND me badgers he buys. ‘Tis to make me go away, says he, he says. Yes, I do, I know Spoooonwaaaaar.”

“Well, have you seen him?” asked Willow , Tyris and Gann simultaneously.

“A week ago, I did. He boughted me pelts. He went to the moathouse, but I don’t go there. Nope, nope, nope. I’m a trapper, I am. Only things walkin’ around the moathouse are already dead, yes they are. Not gonna kill ‘em again, not me. Just got me squirrels….,” seeing the look in Gann’s eye, Ol’ Del finished quickly, “… and badgers too.”

Gann grabbed the old man and glared at him. “Did you say the dead were walking around!?” Del looked back at him with a mixture of fear and confusion, but for once didn’t say a word. Gann tried a new tactic. “Tell me what you know, and I’ll let you keep the ankheg.”

Ol’ Del thought about this for a minute, took a deep breath and considered how to respond. With all the seriousness he could muster, he looked Gann square in they eye, leaned close and said, “I…. don’t know…. what an awwwwnkheg is!”

Disgusted, Gann pushed Del away and gathered his things. The party agreed that they were wasting valuable daylight with this crazy old coot, and they prepared to move on. As they continued down the road, they heard Ol’ Del holler after them, “Good bye, then. Remember Ol’ Del if ya need any pelts, ya do. If ya need a squirrel or a fox or a badger. And mind yerself around the dragon. Buh bye, now!”

The group paused for a moment. Gann shook his head slowly, and they kept walking. According to their information, they still had three or four more hours to go before they reached the moathouse. They couldn’t afford any more interruptions if they wanted to arrive before night took them. They resumed their silent march, until Tas piped up an hour later. “Did he say dragon?”


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## Jodo Kast (Jun 10, 2002)

Yes, Tas, he said DRAGON!  This session was just too cool.  I'm hoping we get to play again soon.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 10, 2002)

*Chapter 3: The Moathouse, Part One*

Next session is June 29th!!!

Chapter 3 - The Moathouse 

27 Coldeven, Dusk: 

The forest became increasingly dark as the party approached the vicinity of the moathouse. The trees seemed larger, and more ominous. The undergrowth, though apparently long dead, was incredibly dense and virtually impassible. Nothing moved, not even the wind. In the dying light of the setting sun, eerie shadows put the friends on edge. 

Just as Willow was about to express a desire to set up a guarded campsite on the road, the moathouse finally came into view. The road had curved to a point where the structure could be seen just a few hundred yards ahead, and at the bottom of a steep hill. The small fortress lay in ruins. From their vantage point, the party could see that there had once been an upper level, which had collapsed in on itself at some point in the distant past. Willow pointed down the hill and said, “Look, there’s a courtyard just inside the walls. That looks like a safe place to stop for the night.” Endora voiced her assent, and the rest of the group nodded in agreement.

The terrain between the building’s entrance and where the party now stood was littered with more of the dense shrubs and briars that they had seen along the way. It seemed that the only reasonable way to reach their destination would be to stay on the road, which would lead them more than a mile to the south before doubling back around the other side of hill, and back towards the moathouse. It would be quite dark by the time they reached the courtyard.

Gann and Davok led the way, and before long the party had made it to the front of the moathouse. “Look, the draw bridge is down,” noted Willow . “Let’s get inside and set up camp, quickly. It’s been a long day, and we all need the rest and a hot meal.” The party marched single file across the narrow stretch of dirt between the murky water of the moat, and the dense forest.

Without warning, a bulbous green mass lurched out of the moat and lunged at Tas. An enormous, sticky pink tongue shot out of the thing’s mouth and attempted to pull the halfling in. “Ack!” he shouted, and managed to bat it away. “A giant frog?!?”

Weapons were drawn, and the group closed in on the creature. Neither Tas’s dagger, nor Endora’s arrows could pierce the thing’s tough, slimy skin. It lumbered out of the water, and focused its attention again on the bite-sized rogue. The tongue shot out once more, and this time it managed to get a grip on Tas! He was yanked violently off of his feet and straight into the wide, amphibious mouth of the frog. Tas made a grab for the creature’s nostrils, and he hung on for dear life to avoid being swallowed whole.

Davok moved in with his axe and took a mighty swing, but his blade was turned aside and it slid across the slippery hide. The barbarian frowned with frustration. That blow should have cut this thing cleanly in two!

Gann shook his head and shrugged. “THIS is how you kill a frog,” he said with confidence and authority. The cleric took a single step forward, and buried his war mace between the thing’s eyes. With a sickening crunch, the monster’s skull caved in, and the thing dropped like an enormous wet sponge. Gann walked away with a satisfied grunt as Tas kicked and squirmed his way out of his slimy predicament.

Not wanting to face any more threats out in the open, the party headed swiftly for the rickety drawbridge on the southwest corner of the building. The rotted wooden planks sagged across the moat, and the whole structure looked like it might not even be able to hold the weight of a halfling. Gann started working on finding another way across, when Willow suddenly spoke up. “Look,” she said. “It looks like the bridge has been repaired! I thought this place was abandoned.”

“It’s true,” Gann verified Willow ’s observation. “See here. Three new boards have been laid out to reinforce the bridge. Someone has been here recently. We should be careful. Evil may be about!” The cleric had an eager look in his eye as he thumped the head of his mace into his palm several times. Tas strolled past Gann into the moathouse courtyard. Gann turned and followed, with the rest of the party close behind.

The courtyard was spacious, and opened into the night sky. There were small piles of rubble from the collapsed upper level here and there, but the stony earth was mostly clear of debris. Tas caught sight of something glinting in the moonlight, and moved swiftly to investigate. A strange curved dagger lay near the northeast corner of the courtyard, at the base of a wide set of granite steps. Tas was so focused on the dagger, that he failed to see the bigger picture.

“Blood,” exclaimed Gann, approaching the spot where Tas was kneeling. The halfling pocketed the blade and stepped back to see what Gann was talking about. A deep brown stain soiled the stones on the ground, and it led up the steps and into the darkness beyond. “It’s fairly fresh, too. See, it’s dry, but it hasn’t yet begun to flake away. It can’t be more than a couple of days old, at most.”

Nervously, the friends began to unpack their belongings, and set up a campsite. Tyris removed her backpack and, much to everyone’s surprise, a tiny red dragon popped out and began to hover near her head. “Meet Fihm,” Tyris announced proudly. “He’s a pseudodragon. I never go anywhere without him, but I guess he’s been too scared to show himself before now… y’know, with the whole unplanned journey to an alien plane of existence, and all.”

“Shhhh!” hissed Willow . Does anyone else hear that?

“I do,” replied Endora. “It’s a rhythmic sound. Like a whoosh… whoosh…. whoosh. What is that?”

“We’re surrounded by a moat,” Tyris reasoned. “It’s probably the water lapping up against the building, or something. Fihm, why don’t you go check it out?” The pseudodragon fluttered off, and Tyris established an empathic link with her familiar. “Let me know if you find anything, and come straight back if there is any danger!” 

Davok sat on the rocky ground and tore into his rations as the rest of the companions laid out their bedrolls. Willow gathered some loose rocks and formed a circle for a campfire, and Endora salvaged some dry wood from the ruins of the second level. Within minutes, a small fire was lit, and then Gann decided to make plans for establishing a watch. Before he could speak, however, Tyris called for a hush.

“Fihm’s found something!” she exclaimed. “What is it, Fihm. What do you see?” 

“Daddy,” came the reply. Only Tyris could hear it, in her mind.

She relayed the message to her friends. “He says he’s found daddy. He must mean Spugnoir! He found little Renne’s daddy! He’s here, we should go look for him...”

“Not so fast,” Gann said. “Remember what that crazy Ol’ Del said out on the road… something about a dragon? The little lizard just might be talking about HIS daddy! Tyris, can you find out anything else?”

“I’ll try,” she promised. “Fihm, where is daddy? Can you see him now?”

”Here,” Fihm declared.

“Is daddy alive, Fihm? Is he Ok?” 

“Awake” was the reply.

“Fihm, this is important. Who is daddy? Is it YOUR daddy you see? Is daddy like you?” 

“Oops, not MY daddy.” 

Tyris sighed with relief. “It’s Ok. It’s not his daddy he sees, so it must be Spugnoir.”

Gann wasn’t convinced. “How smart is that little thing? Maybe he just figured out that the dragon wasn’t really his daddy? How can we be sure? We need to know more about this ‘daddy’ character. Could be evil!”

Tyris groaned. She was anxious to find out what Fihm had found. She was excited about the idea of rescuing Spugnoir quickly and getting away from this place. Resignedly, she asked again. “Fihm, tell me more about daddy. Is he like me? Or is daddy big?” 

“…..” 

“Fihm? Are you Ok, Fihm?” 

….”Tee hee hee,” the little dragon’s giggle echoed inside her head.

“Why that little brat!” Tyris announced. “He thinks this is some kind of game. He’s just laughing at me. I think that’s about all we’re going to get from him.”

Meanwhile, Tas was staring transfixed into the blackness at the top of the stairs. Slowly and silently, he tiptoed forward. After making his way up the first couple of steps, he could see that the dark hole was once covered by and immense pair of double doors. The door on the left was hanging at a lopsided angle from its top hinge. The other was missing completely. Creeping onward, careful not to make a sound, Tas made it to the top of the stairs while his companions watched from below. With a single, stealthy motion, the rogue slipped inside the immense chamber and pressed his back against the wall.

The silent darkness exploded.

A blast of lightning pierced the black night and shattered the remaining door. Fragments of burned wood showered down upon the stunned adventurers below. Tas, sensing the impending danger, tumbled out of the way at the last second, and narrowly avoided being charred by the explosion. In that instant, during the brief flash of light, the rogue caught sight of something that made his blood run cold. He was alone… in the dark… with a dragon! The halfling sprinted to the back of the chamber, where an arrow slit allowed a thin beam of moonlight to penetrate the inky blackness of the dragon’s lair. He drew his crossbow and crouched, biding his time.

Outside, the rest of the party was already springing into action. Gann was the first to react, and he charged up the stairs towards his foe, his mace held high. With both doors now gone, the night sky provided just enough light to see the outline of a large, reptilian head inside the room. With an elated war cry, the armored cleric swung with all of his might and smashed his weapon into the evil face of the beast. It bounced off the dragon’s scales with a painful vibration, which caused Gann to momentarily stagger. “Uh Oh,” he said, realizing he’d done more harm to himself than his enemy. With a quick snap of his powerful jaws, the dragon opened up a deep gash across Gann’s chest, from his left shoulder to his right hip. “We’re in trouble,” he moaned.

More terrified than she’d ever been in her life, Tyris ran to the bottom of the stairs, muttering arcane words of power and waving her hands in the air. A ball of dancing lights flew from her fingers at the speed of thought and surrounded the dragon’s face. The beast raised an eyebrow in amusement and sharpened his claws on the stone floor. Suddenly, the monster’s eyes snapped shut tight as a stinging wad of sticky paste hit him square in the face. Willow smiled at her handiwork as the blinded monster screamed in rage.

Endora rushed into the room and to the rear of the beast, and she sliced a chunk of flesh from its flank. The dragon bellowed in pain and leaped into the air. With two great thrusts of his powerful wings, he disappeared into the pitch blackness above. Davok, Willow and Tyris joined the others in the open doorway, eyes peeled and weapons ready. Tas remained in the corner, clutching his crossbow.

The room went silent for a moment, and then Gann Tolar, cleric of St. Cuthbert, muttered a short prayer to his deity. The chamber was bathed in a warm light that centered on Gann. In the light, the party could see that the rubble and wreckage had been cleared out, and it was piled high on top of support beams that had been laid across the ceiling. What appeared to be nothing more than an impenetrable pile of timbers from the outside turned out to be a cleverly disguised grand hall within! That wasn’t all that Gann’s light spell revealed. The bloated, half eaten corpse of a man, who had been dressed in ochre colored robes, lay crumpled on the floor. The unfortunate fellow’s dead hand still clutched a war mace over what remained of his chest. Tas scrambled out from his corner for a moment to retrieve the weapon, then retreated once again to the wall.

“There he is!” yelled Endora. She dropped her sword to the floor with a clatter, and in one swift motion she drew her bow and fired an arrow at the dragon. Tucked in his perch, surrounded by broken timbers, the young blue didn’t even flinch as the projectile disappeared harmlessly into a dark crevice.

The sound of the bowstring was all that the creature needed to pinpoint his next target, and another volley of lightning was unleashed on the group. The friends scattered, but Davok wasn’t fast enough. The blast took him full in the chest and hurled him spinning backwards through the air. He landed in a smoldering heap in the corner. Amazingly, the tough half-orc rose to his feat and dusted himself off. With a vicious snarl, he leveled his longbow at his target and fired. The deadly arrow pierced the dragon’s already injured eye, and the resulting shriek of pain filled everyone in the hall with a mixture of fear and elation. The monster had been hurt, and if it could be hurt, it could be killed!

Tyris launched a spinning sphere of flame towards the dragon’s perch as the others pumped arrows into the hole. With every impact, the creature screamed and writhed in agony. When Tyris’ spell erupted in the thing’s face, it could take no more. The dragon dug in with his claws and launched himself through the air towards the open door. As he passed overhead, the force of his movement bowled Gann over and he slid across the floor. Flying blindly and in a state of irrational rage, the huge beast missed his mark and smashed into wall, just west of the doorway. As he spun out of control, his great tail struck Tyris and she was thrown backwards down the stairs.

The moment the mammoth living projectile slid to a stop in the doorway, it was surrounded by members of the Order of the Eagle, hacking and slashing for all they were worth. Once again, Gann stepped up to look the dragon in its bloodied eye before delivering a stunning blow with his mace. The momentum of the weapon caused the dragon’s head to jerk to the side and smack into the wall, loosening the mortar. The young blue growled menacingly, and it spoke! “That’s the second time you’ve struck me in the face with your stick, little holy man. You shall not have a chance at a third attempt!”

Gann, surprised by this announcement in perfect, in fact elegant, common, responded with the first thing that came to mind. “Uhhhh…..” The dragon swiped at Gann with a razor sharp claw, and was about to bite the cleric in two, when it suddenly bellowed in shock and pain as another flaming sphere rolled up its back and exploded. If he could see, he would have noticed Tyris back on her feet in the middle of the courtyard, smiling at him triumphantly.

Knowing he was in mortal danger, and lacking the strength to fly, the dragon scrambled for the moathouse entrance. As he turned to flee, the companions tore into his flank with a vicious flurry of attacks. Tas, who had been watching quietly from his corner, finally fired his crossbow. The bolt disappeared into the monster’s throat with a bloody splat. The top of the stairs were left covered in blood and dragon flesh. Weak and horribly wounded, the monster stumbled down the stairs and he clawed his way to the drawbridge. Before he could slip away into the night, Tyris launched a final flaming sphere at his hind side. When the flash dissipated, the young sorceress from another world savored her first true victory as she watched the charred corpse topple lifelessly into the moat.

Far too weary to celebrate, the companions shuffled weakly back to their campsite to minister to each other’s wounds. Gann and Endora provided healing, while Willow coaxed the life back into their campfire. They sat in relative silence, reflecting on what had just happened. “We killed a dragon,” Davok pointed out.

“Mmm hmmm,” Willow answered, nodding.

“Yup,” Gann added, ending the conversation.


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## Jodo Kast (Jun 10, 2002)

Yup.  We killed a dragon.  You know, it strikes me that the most amazing thing about this first session is that despite the abundant clues, we (or at least Gann) did not actually expect to face a dragon.  Sure, that crazy trapper warned us about the dragon.  Heck, the pseudodragon's scouting report all but gave it away.  And yet I was genuinely surprised when that lightning bolt nearly did in our peck.  From here on out, Gann is going to start taking seriously any and all dropped hints, clues, omens, auguries, muttered warnings, etc.  Brian, you gonna post story hour updates with the "between sessions" stuff from your website message boards?  Could be pretty cool.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 10, 2002)

Yes, I do intend to post "between sessions" updates.  I was hoping to get more participation from the rest of the group first, though.  If you could give Tyris a prod, I'll work on Willow and Davok.

With Tas and Endora moving within the next two weeks, and having visitors for the summer, they're out of commission for a while.  We'll be introducing two brand new PC's between now and June 29th!!


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 11, 2002)

*New Website Feature*

Come visit my website and check out the latest feature!

I've added a section for After Dinner Encounters.  They are actually written as stand-alone, single encounter mini-adventures to be played one-on-one with my eight year old son before bedtime, several times a week.

However, for the sake of my website, I'll be editing each one as it's posted, so you can easily insert any one of my After Dinner Encounters into your campaign.  I will do my best to include all enemy stats, treasure, suggested XP awards, and important terrain details with every encounter I post.  All scenarios will be straight from my imagination, and all maps will be custom drawn in Paint Shop Pro.  If you notice that anything is strikingly similar to any encounter you've seen before, I assure you that it will be unintentional, but feel free to let me know!  If I use anybody else's material, I'll give credit where credit is due.

Right now (6/10/02, late night), there is only one EL 2 encounter posted.  I hope to add 3-4 new encounters each week, and the difficulty will grow as Zach's character gets stronger.

p.s.  Does anybody besides Jodo Kast read these posts, or do y'all just go straight to my website?


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## tleilaxu (Jun 11, 2002)

i am following it


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 11, 2002)

*Chapter 3: The Moathouse, Part Two*

Thank you tleilaxu  

28 Coldeven, Shortly After Midnight :

Another rat scampered across the courtyard as Davok watched with a bored expression on his big, ugly face. He and Willow had first watch, and it had been an uneventful three hours. Despite his wounds, the mighty barbarian insisted on staying awake until midwatch, while allowing his young druid friend to catch some shuteye. When the time came, he wandered over to Gann’s pallet and gently shook his foot. Instinctively, the cleric grabbed his mace and sat bolt-upright, ready to swing in an instant. Seeing the tired half-orc, he held his swing and smiled. “Ready to be relieved,” he asked?

“Nothin’ but some rats,” the half-orc declared. “I… stand… relieved….” and he was asleep. Gann stretched his weary muscles and took a swig from his waterskin before walking over to where Tas lay sleeping. He had a minor squabble with the halfing, before bedding down, over ownership of the mace he had found in the grand hall, along with a few other items they removed from a second corpse they discovered in the corner where Davok had fallen. Tas finally had to admit that the weapon was much too large for him to carry around with him. He reluctantly agreed to allow Willow to carry it in her magical bag of holding, along with any other loot they brought out of the moathouse. They would divvy up once they got back to the inn. Gann had won the argument, but he still wasn’t sure he could trust the halfling.

With that thought in mind, he gave Tas a swift kick in the thigh. “Wake up, rogue,” he whispered harshly. “Our turn on watch.” Tas opened his eyes and stared daggers at the cleric. Grumpily, he got up from his bed and trudged over to the steps to guard the open doorway into the great hall.

All was quiet for the first hour, or so. Even the well-disciplined disciple of St. Cuthbert struggled to stay awake. However, near the top of the second hour, Tas’s sensitive ears picked something up. It was coming from within the darkness of the great hall, and it sounded like gruff voices speaking in hushed tones. He couldn’t make out the words, though, and he signaled Gann to come listen.

The cleric scowled and trudged over to the stairs, but his face turned serious when he, too, heard the voices. “Orcish,” he declared. “Wake the others.”

As Gann listened, he heard what sounded like an argument between a pair of sentries, wondering what to do about the party of well-armed adventurers they had discovered sleeping in the courtyard. “What should we do… I don’t wanna get in trouble…. YOU wake ‘em up and tell ‘em…. I’m not gonna do it… wait ‘til mornin’…. what if they’re up to sumthin’…. not my fault if YOU didn’t tell, ‘em… tell ‘em in the mornin’… good idea…. ‘course it is,” and so forth.

By the time the whispering faded into the distance, the party was awake, albeit reluctantly, and armed. “There are two orc guards in there talking about us,” whispered Gann. “Seemed like they were debating about waiting until morning before telling their masters, whoever they may be, about our presence here. If we take them out now, they’ll never get that chance.”

“We’re already tire, hurt, and nearly out of spells,” Willow pointed out. “Maybe we should just pack up and leave, now.”

“And leave our evil enemy behind us to refortify their position? I don’t think so. On my mark, we attack,” Gann announced, forgetting to be quiet. Without waiting for a response, the vengeful cleric struck his flint to a torch, and charged into the great hall swinging his mace and bellowing a war cry. Not knowing what else to do, the rest of the group looked at each other for a moment before charging in after him. The entered the chamber waving their blades wildly before them, doing their best to look menacing.

The great hall was empty. No orcs. The chamber held nothing but six sleepy adventurers, waving their weapons in the air and shouting in the torchlight. Gann looked deflated. “Where did the evil go,” he wondered out loud? As if in response, a door opened up in the northeast corner of the room and an arrow flew past his ear and skittered harmlessly down the stairs. The door slammed shut, and a muffled voice could be heard cursing in common … “Drek! There’s a whole lot of ‘em out there!”

Gann grinned and ran to the door. Davok and the others followed close behind. They formed deadly half-circle around the opening and prepared their attack. Gann, once again, took charge and started explaining his plan. “Davok, you…”

“Graaaah!” cried Davok as he ripped open the door and charged inside. His orcish eyesight had no problem penetrating the darkness, and he immediately spotted his enemy. It wasn’t an orc, but a strange combination of a human and what appeared to be a hyena. No matter. Davok had been swinging his axe at enemies all afternoon and hadn’t killed anything with it yet. That just wouldn’t do. With one hefty swing, the barbarian cleaved the stunned sentry from shoulder to groin. It fell dead to Davok’s left… and his right.

Gann lunged into the room with his torch just in time to see a second creature drop his bow and raise his hands in the air. “I give up,” it grunted in crude common. “Dis is just a job. Not worth dying fer. I told him to just wait until morning, dumb dead lug.” Gann dragged the man-beast by the furry nape of its neck and pulled him into the great hall.

The party encircled their prisoner, and Gann began the interrogation. “What evil forces are you working for? What are you doing here,” he demanded?

“We were just supposed to watch that one downstairs. It was just a job, no big deal. But then the dragon came, and all bets were off.”

“Watch who, downstairs? If this is just a job, then who is paying you? Are you and your evil friends in the robes in league with the dragon?”

“Listen, I don’t know nuthin’ more than I told you already,” growled the beast. “Gnolls ain’t stupid, like most might think. We go where the money is, but we ain’t s’posed to get eaten or chopped in half for it. We was just supposed to watch the one downstairs until it was time to leave, and that’s all I know.” The gnoll was starting to get angry, and it was apparent that he just wanted to leave.

Willow reached into her pack and pulled something long and slithering out and brought it into the torchlight. “Perhaps my snake can help you to remember something else,” she said. The others stared at her, as she stood there holding a six foot long python in her hands. Tas made a mental note to watch for reptiles before snooping any of his companion’s packs.

Gann gave the gnoll a vicious shake and pierced him with a threatening stare. “Look, I don’t know nuthin’ else. Me and my partner wuz just comin’ upstairs to leave when we found you.”

“Well then,” remarked Gann, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “I guess I’ll just let you go, then. No harm done here, right?”

“Fine by me,” the gnoll agreed as he tried to push his way out of the circle of heroes. He crumpled to the ground as Gann thumped him across the back of the head with his mace.

“Now,” growled Gann, forcing the dazed sentry to his feet, “you’re going to tell us who else is ‘downstairs’ with you, and how many of them there are.”

Tas watched the whole ordeal with a bored expression. His finger played lightly across the trigger of his crossbow, and he grew restless.

“Grrrrr,” grumbled the gnoll. “Just some other gnolls workin’ in other parts down there with them people in robes. Got no idea… ack… grrrrpppppphhh …” The creature clutched at his throat, and blood spurted out from between his fingers as he fell to his knees. Finally, he toppled to the floor and died with a bubbly groan.

“What happened!” shouted Tyris. The group was on alert again. “Fihm, are you with us? Did you see anything?”

Fihm didn’t respond right away. Willow approached the fallen gnoll and took a closer look. “There’s a crossbow bolt sticking through his neck,” she observed.

“Ok,” shouted Gann. “Which one of us has a crossbow?!” The cleric’s rage was centered on Tas, who stood to the side with an innocent look on his face.

“I always have my crossbow out and ready,” he stated simply. “That’s nothing new.”

Furious, Gann stepped forward and flipped the corpse over with his foot, and everyone gasped. In addition to the bolt in his neck, an arrow was buried to the fletching in the gnoll’s chest. The party spread out and started searching the rafters for an unseen enemy as Tyris tried again to locate her familiar. “Fihm! Where are you? Is there somebody else here with us?”

“Zzzzzzhmm? Shhh… sleepy,” was the reply. “That little snot is sleeping now,” Tyris complained.

Tas stood in the middle of the hall looking confused. While the rest of the party continued their search of the great hall, he quietly bent down and removed a gold chain from the dead gnoll’s hand. He noticed the sentry was carrying it when he was first brought out into the light. Nobody else discovered anything out of the ordinary. Davok did, however, find the staircase that led beneath the moathouse. After a brief debate over whether they should return to town now, or explore downstairs, the party decided that “the one” the gnoll referred to just might be Spugnoir.

Gann, carrying the torch, took the lead. The stairs spilled out into a damp, dank room made of stone. Slime and algae covered the floor where moisture from the moat had soaked through the walls. The party immediately noticed a thick door on the western wall with a heavy padlock holding it shut from the outside. Reasoning that it looked like a prison cell, Gann strolled over and tried to force it open. The door gave a loud creak, but it didn’t open.

A sleepy voice from the other side of the door could be heard, complaining. “What y’all want now? Cain’t ya jes let me sleep, fer cryin’ out loud?” With hopeful looks on their faces, the party ushered Tas towards the door to try his hand at the lock. The halfling rogue pulled a wooden box out of one of his pouches, and he produced a slender tool that looked like a miniature kitchen fork. He inserted it into the lock, and with a “pop”, it fell open. Tas grinned smugly and stepped away as Endora tore the door open.

A stout man dressed in dirty, bloody rags leaped up from a cot in the corner of the filthy room. He looked ready to fight, until Willow spoke soothingly to him. “Are you Spugnoir?” she asked. The man slumped back down on the cot.

“Well, it’s about dang time them townsfolk sent me a rescue party. Been holed up in here fer days jes a’ waitin’. What took y’all so long? How’s my little girl?” Obviously, this was the missing potion maker.

“Well, sir,” Willow explained. “We’re not exactly a rescue party. You see, your daughter had a hard time convincing the militia that there was anything wrong. So, we just figured we’d see if we could help.”

“Don’t that jes soun’ like Elmo! Blowin’ me off agin’. I bin tellin’ him fer years that the evil’d come back to this here place. I’d march right back thar and give him what fer right now, if’n my head didn’t hurt quite so bad.” Spugnoir held his hand up to his forehead where a nasty cut could be seen in the torchlight. Gann reached out and, after a brief prayer, Spugnoir smiled. “Well, that feels much better. Thank y’all. Thank y’all a bunch! Tell ya what. I ain’t seen my girl in days, and she must be dang near havin’ a cow by now. Why don’t y’all jes help me get home, and I’ll tell y’all all about this place after a good night sleep. Draw yer a map an’ everythin’. In fact, if’n y’all come to my shop, I’ll knock a goodly price off my potions for ya fer bein’ so downright kind to me. How’s that sound?”

The group agreed that the potion maker’s bargain sounded like a good one, and none of them had any qualms about leaving the moathouse for now, to reconsider their approach. They escorted Spugnoir up the stairs and out across the drawbridge. They walked at a leisurely pace with weapons drawn, of course, and they questioned Spugnoir about what he had seen. They found out that he had gone down to the moathouse looking for a rare mushroom for his potion lab, and he was surprised to see activity. He prattled on about his story for most of the long trek back to Hommlet…

“There was all these folks in them weird yeller robes, and a bunch o’ those gnoll thugs carrying stuff in and out. They had diggin’ stuff, like it was fer some sort of mining excavation, er somthin’. I followed ‘em inside, and what a surprise when I saw the big hall were clear. Used to be, it was all jes piles o’ wood. I was watchin’ from the courtyard, and that’s when the dragon came. None o’ them fellers saw THAT one comin’, lemme tell ya. Heh Heh. They tried to fight it, but it bit their boss man’s head off, right quick. Threw them in quite a hissy for sure. I’d a run off there and then, but the big blue lizard saw me. Woulda got me too, if some gal in black didn’t run up and try to pop ‘im one from behind. He got her all ate up, too, but gave me a chance to skip down the stairs where I’d be safe. Well, safe as a man can be all holed up by a dragon in a den o’ gnoll thugs and yeller robed crazies. They got some girly girl in charge now, since their boss man got ‘imself ate up by the dragon. They beat me up good, tossed me in that room, an’ that’s where y’all found me. Glad ya did, too. I was getting’ mighty hungry.”

The exhausted party arrived back in Hommlet well after sunrise. They escorted Spugnoir all the way back to his shop. Along the way, Gann notice that they passed a large church dedicated to his patron deity, St. Cuthbert. When they reached the potion maker’s home, the ladies were delighted to see Renne come rushing out for a tearfully joyous reunion. The companions promised to go visit Spugnoir the next morning to collect their maps, and peruse his potion supply. They said their good-byes, and headed back across town.

The past twenty four hours had been quite eventful. Now, it was time to forget about their problems for a while and catch up on some much needed sleep. The Inn of the Welcome Wench was a very welcome sight, indeed! Their relief at arriving “home” was overshadowed by the knowledge of the evil they had discovered. Deep inside, each one of them knew that, even if they slept all the way through Growfest, when they awoke The Eagle would still be missing, and the dark forces gathering at the moathouse would continue to strengthen.

Somewhere on another plane, a shrouded form watched sadly as the party retired to their room on the second floor of the Inn of the Welcome Wench. With a sigh, the figure reached down, and blessed each and every one of them with a deep, and dreamless sleep.

Thus ends session one. Best quote of the evening: 
Malessa (playing Willow): "Can I use my Sense Motive skill on the dragon?" (in the heat of combat) 
Brian (DM Cthulu): "Sure. You sense that he's pissed."


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## tleilaxu (Jun 11, 2002)

!


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 11, 2002)

*Until next time...*

Thank you.

That's all the new material I have written.  Our next game session is Saturday, June 29th.  I am working on an interlude to post here, and on my website, which will detail the events that took place between sessions in the town of Hommlet.

In the meantime, you can check out my After Dinner Encounters thread that I started last night.

ALSO... I'm starting to replace the artwork on the WORLD page with custom pencil sketches by my wife, Malessa.  The items with custom artwork are surrounded by a blue border.  Check them out!!

See y'all soon!

Cthulu


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 19, 2002)

*Chapter 4: Interlude*

28 Coldeven, Mid-afternoon:

Willow was the first of the companions to stir in the upper room at the Inn of the Welcome Wench.  She stretched her muscles as she came out of her druid trance and looked around.  All of her friends were still sleeping.  Judging by the angle of the light coming through the cracks in the shutters, Willow guessed it to be the middle of the afternoon. 

She crept silently over to the window and pushed the shutters open, just enough to catch a peek outside.  Even her delicate motion was enough to rouse the ever-alert Gann Tolar from his slumber.  He grabbed his mace and sat upright, immediately ready to do battle.  Seeing nothing to smite, he frowned and relaxed a bit.

Willow looked down at the street below.  With all the events of the past couple of weeks, she had forgotten that tomorrow marked the beginning of Growfest.  Hommlet was a veritable beehive of activity.  Local merchants and traveling vendors were setting up booths along the roadside.  Women with flowers in their hair were hanging colorful banners across the storefronts.  Children were running and laughing in the streets.  The atmosphere was one of joy and excitement, and Willow managed to smile in the afternoon sun.  Her smile faded as she looked down and saw the blood stain on the windowsill.  Reality came crashing down upon her, and it stung like a slap in the face.

Willow muttered a brief request to Ehlonna to give her strength to face the day, and she turned away from the window.  Gann was on his knees, lost in his prayers to St. Cuthbert of the Cudgel.  As the young druid sat in silence, out of respect for the cleric and his deity, Tas and Endora groaned and slowly rose from their cots.  The paladin noticed that Gann was praying, and she motioned for Tas and Willow to step outside so they could speak freely without disturbing him.  "Why can't we talk in here?" Tas asked loudly.  "Wouldn't it be safer?"

Gann stopped muttering for a moment, and his features scrunched into an angry grimace.  Without opening his eyes, he took a deep breath and went back to his devotions.  Davok and Tyris were also disturbed by the halfling's shrill voice, and they began to stir in their beds.  "OUCH!" Tas bellowed as Endora grabbed him by the ear and dragged him into the hallway.  Willow followed closely, and gently shut the door behind them.

"We slept longer than we should have," Endora lamented.  "The danger here is much greater than we had anticipated.  A dragon!  A cult of crazies!  What has our mentor gotten himself into?  What has he gotten US into, for that matter?"

"I don't know," Tas grumbled, rubbing his ear.  "But I do know that I never signed on to get eaten by frogs, cooked by lightning, and pulled around like a child by pompous paladins!"

The women ignored him.  "Maybe you two should head out and try to scrounge up some information, and see if you can swing a deal for some healing potions.  I think we'll need them!  Here..."  Willow reached into her bag of holding and pulled out a large handful of gold.  "Here is sixty gold pieces.  It's not much, but it's all we've got for now.  Maybe that Spugnoir fellow will offer us a line of credit instead of the discount he offered.  See what you can do!"

Tas stared at the gold as it moved out of Willow's pouch and into Endora's, never passing through his possession.  He scowled and marched downstairs.  Endora rolled her eyes, nodded farewell to Willow and followed the rogue.  "We'll see you downstairs for dinner!" she called out as she disappeared into the noisy common room.

Willow went back inside to find that Gann, Davok and Tyris were all on their feet and preparing to head out into the streets.  Gann stepped forward and said, "Lady, I saw a church this morning that is dedicated to my most righteous patron, St. Cuthbert.  I'm sure you noticed it as well.  It is the largest temple in town... as it should be.  It is my intent to converse with the clerics there and attempt to learn more about this rancid evil that infests the moathouse and forest surrounding this town.  Perhaps they could also be of assistance in identifying some of the items that we removed from the stinking corpses of our slain enemies of righteousness."

Willow looked to Tyris and Davok, who shrugged.  From her bag of holding she retrieved the amulets, the magical mace, and the strange jade mask that they had found in the moathouse.  She handed them to Gann and said, "Take these.  Just don't sell anything before you let us know what they are.  We all have a stake in this!"  Gann promised that he would return before dinner with nothing less than what he departed with, and he took his leave.

"Well," stated Tyris, "I guess that leaves just us.  Why don't we stick together and try to find out what the rest of this stuff is worth.  We can meet the others back in the common room and discuss our findings over a hot meal this evening."  Willow nodded her assent, and the three remaining heroes headed downstairs.

Willow and Tyris headed straight for the door, but Davok detoured towards the bar.  "What are you doing?" asked Willow.  "I thought we were going to meet back here for supper after exploring the town a bit?"

"Travel snack," replied Davok.

****

Gann Tolar exited the Inn of the Welcome Wench and headed up the road to the north, amongst all of the festivities.  As he walked, he noticed that people were stopping to look at him as he passed by.  Children would point and cheer, and then launch into imagined swordplay against each other.  Women would whisper with each other and smile coyly in his direction.  They seemed to be sizing him up.  Working men would simply glance his way with an approving nod.  Unused to this kind of attention, and uncomfortable with it, Gann quickened his pace and headed straight for the bridge that led to Temple Street

The cleric's mood improved as he rounded the corner, and he saw the towering steeple of the Church of St. Cuthbert looming ahead of him.  He smiled and marched right up to the hand-carved mahogany double doors.  Gann admired the exquisite craftsmanship of his fellow devotees to the divine god of retribution as he touched the wood.  The door on the left was slightly ajar, and he gently pushed it open.

A variety of sensations assailed Gann's senses.  The aroma of rare, spiced incense filled his nostrils, and he breathed it in deeply.  The light dancing back and forth across the cathedral's ceiling as it shined through the stained glass windows and was reflected by the chandeliers dazzled him.  The cavernous, cool marble structure chilled and warmed him all at the same time.  Gann Tolar stood speechless, and he basked in the glory of his god for several moments before a woman's voice awoke him from his reverie.  She was singing.

Gann couldn't make out the words, but inspired by the melody he crept forward.  A regal looking woman in the long white robes of a high cleric moved gracefully back and forth across the altar.  She was carefully arranging large bowls of flower blossoms in preparation for the special Growfest services.  She seemed lost in some pleasant daydream, and she didn't notice Gann approaching until he was almost upon her.  All at once, the singing stopped and the woman stood up straight and tall.  She smoothed out her wrinkled robes with swift, hard strokes and a slight blush appeared on her suddenly stern-looking face.

"What do you want," she asked in an angry tone.  "This is highly unusual... for someone to just walk in off the street and sneak up behind me.  I have clerics beneath me that can handle your affairs for you in the morning.  I'm a very busy woman with much to do, and I usually don't see visitors.  You may feel free to leave a tithe on your way out, and please shut the door behind yourself."

Gann, not used to being berated, cleared his throat and carefully considered his words.  "Madam, I did not mean to intrude.  I pay most of my tribute to St. Cuthbert in the form of delivering righteous retribution down upon the heads of unrepentant evildoers. But perhaps if someone might help me identify these items I have recovered in my undying quest for justice, it might help me find one who poses a serious threat to this town, a sorcerous villain by the name of Dunrat. My companions and I would then sell the items, so that I might fill the coffers of this good and noble church. Is there one here who might assist me in these matters?"

The woman glared at Gann severely for a few moments as if trying to decide whether or not to have him thrown out into the street.  She looked him up and down, and her expression softened a bit when she noticed the highly polished symbol of St. Cuthbert sewn into his tunic.  With an exasperated sigh, she waved her hands as if in resignation and reached out to see what he had.  "Yes, yes. Well, stop wasting my time by just standing there and let me see what you've got, for crying out loud."

Gann practically jumped to attention, and he struggled to pull the magical mace from his pack.  He handed it to the high cleric, and he tried not to appear too anxious as she carefully studied it.  "Hmmmm.... a fine weapon," she announced. "Magic. The Church could put this weapon to good use in our fight against injustice, you know. However, if you do not choose to offer it into our service, I imagine you could fill your own pockets by finding a wealthy merchant to take it off your hands. No doubt he can turn a profit selling it to evildoers. I've neither the time nor the means to determine its exact qualities right here and now. Take it back and do as you will with it."

Gann felt ashamed, in spite of himself.  This woman had the unnerving ability to make you feel guilty for merely existing.  With a bit less vigor, he pulled the jade mask from his pack and handed it over for inspection.

"What is this, a child's plaything?" The woman felt its weight. "Goodness, an expensive plaything by my wager." She studied the mask for a brief moment and frowned. The woman looked up to peer into Gann's eyes with an inquisitive glare. "Take it away from me. I don't like the look of it."  She practically tossed the mask back at Gann, and he fumbled with it for a moment before gaining control.  He stuffed it back into his pack, next to he mace.  "Is that all," she asked?

"Just one more thing madam.  These were retrieved from the bodies of several of our slain enemies at the moathouse.  The design of them is peculiar.  I thought you might be able to offer an explanation."  Gann reached into his pouch and removed the amulets that he had taken from Willow at the inn.  He handed them to the woman.  Her react was swift an unexpected.

"Where did you get these!?!? Is this some kind of cruel joke?"  The cleric's face turned red and her lips quivered in rage.  "Did Elmo put you up to this!? You can tell him that his little game has gone too far this time. When will he EVER let the past die?! Canoness Y'dey is NOT one to be trifled with in such a sacrilegious manner. Get out of my sight, infidel... and take your evil trinkets with you."

The Canoness threw the amulets into Gann's face before turning away and storming through an open door to the rear of the altar area.  Poor Gann was left in stunned silence.  He reached down and gingerly picked up the fallen amulets, and returned them to his pouch.  He turned to depart, sulking and feeling wrongfully chastised.  "All I did was smite a little evil and loot the corpses. St. Cuthbert is the Lord of Retribution," he muttered to himself. "Once again I find that retribution is a two-headed beast. One head is nice.  It smites down evil with heavy, blunt objects ... but the other head has a bitter, sharp tongue. Oh, beware the other head of retribution.  It bites!"

Gann gave the enchanted mace a couple of practice swings, trying to get a feel for the weight of the weapon.  “Magic, eh,” he mused silently.  “Perhaps magical enough to supplant even my own tried and true Truncheon of Truth, I wonder?”  Rather than leave defeated, Gann decided to find a lower-tiered priest that might be able to help him discern the exact nature and potency of the enchantment.  He thought it best, however, to keep the amulets and the mask out of site, for now.  “Perhaps Elmo would be better suited to help solve that mystery!”

As he shuffled towards the door, head hanging low, the scorned cleric heard a chuckle emanating from a passage near the vestibule.  "I see you've met the Canoness,” a voice proclaimed.  “Seems you made quite an impression! My name is Calmer, and I am her assistant. I rather wish I had seen you come in the door. We could have avoided.... well, whatever it is that just happened! Is there something I can do for you?"

Gann tried to explain the situation briefly to Calmer.  However, he soon discovered that the elder priest was a very friendly and talkative fellow.  The concept of brevity seemed to elude the man.  Throughout Gann’s narration, Calmer asked for no less than every detail.  In return, the priest offered his own expository opinion of each and every point.  Nearly an hour later, a very frustrated Gann Tolar finally managed to steer the conversation back towards the subject of the magical mace.

Calmer’s eyes lit up with renewed interest.  "Hmmm... a magic weapon you say? Well, I just might have something that could help solve this mystery. You seem like a decent enough fellow, and an honest devotee to He of the Cudgel. Just this once, I think I can do you this favor. After your experience with Canoness Y'dey, I don't want you to have an unfavorable impression of our church."

Calmer led Gann around the outside of the church and to his private outer office. After several minutes of rummaging about, he finally produced a thin box from one of the lower drawers of his desk. He opened it to reveal a small stack of scrolls. "Not this one.... no... no.... hmmmmmm.... aha!" The priest triumphantly held up a small piece of vellum parchment, rolled tightly and bound in blue ribbon.

Calmer unraveled the scroll and asked to see the mace. He held the weapon in his hands, and he began to read the words from the scroll, which was lying on the desk. As he pronounced each syllable, the lettering vanished from the paper with a small flash. When the priest was done, the mace lit up with a dim reddish glow as if it had become extremely hot. Calmer, however, showed no sign of being in any kind of pain.

"It's magical, to be sure," he stated plainly. "This weapon will balance itself perfectly for whomever wields it. It will also cut through the air as if in a vacuum, adding potency to every swing for lack of resistance. If it weren't a sin to do so, I'd envy you. Use it well."  Calmer handed the mace back to Gann, who nodded in silent thanks.  He didn’t want to fire up another lengthy conversation with the jovial fellow.

Gann studied the weapon as he held it in both hands.  “Hmmmm. A worthy weapon indeed, but ‘tis no mightier than my own.  If it is not broken,” he said to Calmer, “then why fix it?” As much as Gann would have liked to turn the mace over to the church, so that it might be used to do the good work of St. Cuthbert, it was not his decision to make alone.  The weapon was the property of his collective group of traveling companions.  As such, it would not be just to give it away.  It was therefore unthinkable for the cleric to do so.

After thanking Calmer for his time and assistance, Gann left the church. It was approaching the dinner hour, at which time he had promised to meet his companions back at the Inn of the Welcome Wench. In fact, although the streets are still packed with people, he noticed that many of them had stopped working on festival preparation in favor of munching on some mutton, a piece of cheese, or a hunk of bread. Figuring he still had a little bit of time, Gann started asking around for Elmo.

It doesn't take long to find the captain of the militia at all. With the tremendous influx of tourists, street vendors and entertainers pouring into town for the festival, Elmo had stationed himself on the road near the fort to keep an eye on things.  Gann marched through the streets, trying to ignore the nods, smiles and waves of the townsfolk as he passed.

Finally, Gann caught site of Elmo, standing by the roadside at the southern edge of town.  Seeing the cleric approaching, the captain’s eyes lit up. "Aaaah, my friend! It is good to see you alive and well. I wanted to thank you immediately as soon as I heard about what you and your companions had done, but I chose not to wake you. The rescue of Spugnoir is the talk of the town. No doubt, Redithidoor will compose a horrid ballad to celebrate your heroism."

Gann was actually starting to become annoyed with all of the attention that he was receiving, so he got right to the point.  He gave Elmo a quick update and described his encounter at the church, including the stinging comments of Canoness Y’dey.  The captain listened intently, and his expression turned sour at the mention of the high cleric’s name.  Hearing about the friendly conversation and happy outcome of Gann’s meeting with Calmer seemed to bring the smile back to Elmo’s face.

Upon completing his explanation of the afternoon’s events, Gann pulled the controversial amulets from his pouch and handed them to Elmo. The captain’s smile faded away once again, and he adopted a sad and somber countenance. After several moments of silence, and deep uneven breaths, Elmo spoke...

"By the gods..." he mumbled. "Let me start by apologizing for the unpleasant situation you found yourself in with the Canoness. You didn't deserve her wrath. Though, to be fair, neither do I. She and I don't get along, you see. We adventured together in days gone by. While our quest to vanquish the evil at the temple ended in victory..." Elmo struggled to go on, "On a personal level, things went... poorly. The Canoness and I have not spoken since, and that was more than a decade ago. I choose not to elaborate right now."

Elmo handed the amulets back to Gann, keeping his face averted as if the site of them repulsed him. "As for those," he said in low tones, "it seems our victory was not complete." He paused, and stared blankly at the crowds pouring into Hommlet.  An uncomfortable minute passed in silence, and Gann was starting to wonder if he should say something.

Suddenly, with the strength returning to his voice, Elmo began to speak rapidly and with authority. "With the population of our small town nearly doubling over the course of this festival, we must remain vigilant. I will quietly alert the militia that we will be on a status of high alert. We don't want mass panic. You have returned from the moathouse bearing the symbol of the Elder Elemental Eye. It seems that Spugnoir wasn't a fool after all.”  Upon the completion of his proclamation, Elmo seemed to weaken visibly.  He turned pale, and his stature appeared deflated.  He turned away from Gann and headed up the road.  More to himself than anyone in particular, Elmo mumbled… “The evil has returned."

Off in the distance, someone lit off a burst of fireworks. Mothers and children laughed. Young lovers danced to the music of a wandering minstrel. Elmo walked off into the lengthening shadows, sobbing.

***

"Sensitive fellow, isn't he?" Gann pondered the situation carefully. "So there is evil in the moathouse. We knew that much. I think it's time I pay another visit to my old friend, evil.  I vow that this time, I will smite evil in all of the ways that it is possible to ... um ... yes, SMITE EVIL!"

Gann left Elmo to his dark musings and he headed off to the Inn of the Welcome Wench.  If he was lucky, he would have a chance to speak with Maridosen before rallying the Order of the Eagle. In his mind, even a cold bar lass might warm up to a hero before he marched off into the maw of oblivion… before doing battle with some “elder elemental evil”.

The common room was packed elbow to elbow for the holiday dinner rush. Gann didn't see any possibility of getting an open table, unless his friends had arrived before him and had already secured seating. He started to push his way through the crowd, when he was suddenly grabbed by the arm.

"C'mon. Your table's been waiting all afternoon. I'd have given it up to a group of payin' customers hours ago if the old lady would've let me. Can't tell ya how much silver you've cost me in tips keepin' an empty table for you."

Maridosen, the pretty young barmaid with an apparent attitude problem, dragged Gann across the common area to a table in the corner. There was a wide ribbon strung across the benches with a sign hanging from it. It read, "Reserved for Spugnoir's Saviors." Maridosen tore the ribbon down and practically shoved the cleric onto a bench. "What do you want to eat? Hurry, now. It's busy and I'm losing even more money talkin' to you."

Flustered, Gann rapidly sputtered out an order for some mutton and mead.  Angry at himself for not being a faster thinker, he started planning what he would say when Maridosen returned.  As he sat, various patrons walked by and patted him on the back, saying things like "thank you", or "nice job"... or slurring something congratulatory in the mystery language of happy drunks. 

The cleric frowned. “Being appreciated is nice,” he thought, “in a certain way. But smiting evil is its own reward.”  Gann’s annoyance was refreshed as something new occurred to him.  “This new high profile might make it difficult to catch evil unaware!”  He started to sulk, but the sight of Maridosen returning with a hearty meal brought a smile to his face. 

"Thank you, girl,” he said with over-inflated confidence.  “Justice is a harsh mistress, demanding endless vigilance and devotion. A fine meal like this is just the fuel for the ever-burning furnace of divine retribution within ...”  The frown on the bar maid’s face caused Gann to switch gears quickly.  “Umm, you're not especially interested in justice and smiting evil and what-not are you? Not that there's anything wrong with that ... if not for comely, innocent lasses like yourself, this world just wouldn't be worth saving from the evil that ever threatens to engulf it."

The muscled warrior-priest attempted a charming smile and a flash of the ol' blue eyes.  Unfortunately, it came across as being very awkward and rather silly looking. Gann was unversed in the ways of romance, having dedicated himself completely to the calling of squashing demon-spawn and evildoers.  He had paid scarce little attention to the more pleasant aspects of life.

Maridosen glared at him and started to walk away, as if to ignore his comments.  Then, she turned back and addressed him curtly.  "Listen here, Mr. Divine Retribution. All your fancy words don't change a few simple facts. First of all, every hunk of flesh with a sword that comes through here thinks he can get under my dress. The last guy that actually tried it had to have a finger sewn back on. Only reason I wasn't tossed outta here for that one is, old Vesta felt the brute had it comin' to him. Besides, your type always gets all full of yerselves, and you end up in situations that are far beyond your abilities. I'd recommend moving on, Vigilance Man. You'll only get yourself killed nosing around here."  Maridosen turned her head away and tossed her hair back over her shoulder in a gesture of finality, and she stormed off into the kitchen.

Having been shunned for the second time in one day, Gann lamented out loud to the crowed room.  "Alas, villainous love goddess," he announced with flair.  "You toy with the hearts of men. I simply cannot move on. Destiny has her hand on my back, and she is pushing!  I will root out the evil that lurks beneath the surface of this town and smite it, or I shall be uprooted and smited myself."

Several customers turned briefly to stare at Gann as he made his short speech.  After a moment of awkward silence, normal conversation resumed and the cleric slouched in his seat, disheartened.  Sensing a presence looming over his shoulder, Gann suddenly reached for his Truncheon of Truth.  He mentally berated himself for allowing the moment of weakness and turned to face this new threat.

“So,” said Willow with a broad smile on her face.  Tyris was standing next to her.  “How was your day?”


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## Jodo Kast (Jun 19, 2002)

Well done, DM!  I'm thinking I've been playing Gann Tolar to one-dimensionally.  Perhaps in addition to just smiting evil, I should also look into bashing mildly naughty people as well.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 21, 2002)

No new story update, but I have to show off my wife's artwork.  I posted it on my After Dinner Encounters thread, too... for maximum exposure.  Do I have a cool wife, or what!?!?


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## berova (Jun 21, 2002)

Cool!


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 21, 2002)

Thanks.  I'll pass along the remark to her.  She says she did it as a treat for me.... but we all know she's pining for compliments


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## Krellic (Jun 21, 2002)

Nice pic, - I just hope it's not too good a likeness...


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 21, 2002)

I think it makes me look rather handsome!

Birmingham, eh?  That's where the Birmingham NEC is, I'd assume... Maiden England, filmed circa 1988.  Mighty fine video!

Next game is one week from tomorrow:  June 29th.. updates will come soon after.


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## Jodo Kast (Jun 22, 2002)

Wonderful, he's sprouted _another_ pair of head-tentacles since our last gaming session.  Looks like we'll all have to make another sanity check before we start play.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 24, 2002)

Uh oh... I have a bad feeling about Gann Tolar's future.  I sense something terrible is about to happen.

(For those of you that haven't caught on, Jodo Kast plays the character of Gann in this campaign)


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 30, 2002)

*Session 2 complete*

We just finished our second session in this campaign.  I'll be working on the Story Hour writeups over the next several days.

Initial impression:  Good session, but too many players at the table.  We had 7 PC's, which led to too much confusion in the game, and in real life.

Loot:  A lot!  It'll take quite some time to get it all appraised, identified and divvied.  A list of the loot can be seen here. 

XP:  Experience for treasure has not been added up yet, but the level 5 characters got 1338 each, and the level 4 characters got 1465 each.  The exception being Gann Tolar, who earned 1565... an extra 100 for outstanding role-play.

Kills:  Eleven, including 9 NPC's and 2 gnolls.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jun 30, 2002)

*Session II: Prelude 1*

Tonan was busy packing, and that made him unhappy.  Packing meant that he was indoors, and he hated being indoors.  Being indoors meant that he was in the city, and Tonan despised the city.  Being in the city meant.... the ranger decided to end his train of thought, as he was getting himself upset.

"Val, are you ready to get out of here yet," he yelled across the house?  Valeria and Tonan weren't married, but they may as well have been.  They had been together since childhood, and they'd shared countless adventures, living quarters often, and every now and then a bed.  "This place makes me feel closed in, you know that!"  Tonan slumped down on a bench in the common area and buried his head in his hands, massaging his temples.

Finally, Valeria emerged from the back room with her travel sack tossed casually over her left shoulder.  "All right, all right," she said.  "Let's get moving already.  If you'd quit just sitting around all morning, we might have a chance of making it to Karlun's by midnight."

Tonan and Valeria were leaving for Hommlet.  Every year at Growfest, they joined their friends, Karlun and Mandy Fies, to enjoy the festival events, and to catch up on old times.  The miller and his wife had been good friends of the adventuring pair for many years.

With his friend at his side, Tonan thankfully left the city gates and struck out on the open road.  After a mile or two, the ranger stopped and whistled toward a clump of trees.  A slender gray wolf came trotting out of the grove and fell into step beside Tonan, who jovially ruffled the fur behind his ears.  "Heya, Thor," he said by way of greeting.  "How've ya been, buddy?"  Tonan had rescued Thor from a pelt hunter's trap when he was just a pup.  The wolf's natural parents had been beyond help (as was the unfortunate pelt hunter after Tonan had found him!), so the animal-loving adventurer adopted the animal as his own.  Four years later, the bond between the two was unbreakable.

Tonan, Valeria and Thor walked together in relative silence throughout the morning and most of the afternoon.  They enjoyed the fresh air, the comfort of good company, and the scenery along the way.  The trio stopped briefly for a late lunch (a rabbit snagged easily by Thor), and then they continued South in the direction of Hommlet.  It was at about that time when the thunderheads started to roll in.  "Uh oh," exclaimed Val.  "I think we better find some shelter.  It doesn't look like we're going to make it to Hommlet tonight."

Tonan grumbled in agreement, and after a few more miles he set off into the woods to secure some form of shelter from the approaching storm.  Just a few meters from the road, the skilled ranger quickly lashed the tops of four saplings together, and covered the make-shift structure with pine branches.  The front of the natural hut was protected from the elements by a clump of thick shrubbery, and was completely waterproof.  The companions piled inside for the night just as the first drops of rain began to fall from the sky.

Tonan pulled some venison jerky from his pack and passed it around.  He was sorely disappointed that he wouldn't get to see his friends tonight, but at least he got to spend another night in his true home... the wilderness!

The steady downpour lulled the group to sleep, and they enjoyed fitful rest until shortly after midnight.  Valeria was the first to awaken.  Her keen senses alerted her to the trouble even before Thor began to stir.  Tonan started to complain loudly over being roughly shaken from his slumber, but Val clamped a hand firmly over his mouth.  "Fighting," she whispered shrilly.  "On the road."

The ranger crawled out from the shelter and ducked down behind the dripping bushes.  The rain had stopped, but a heavy fog remained, and it partially obscured his view of the road.  Even with his reduced range of site, Tonan could still make out a large group of bandits surrounding a damaged wagon.  There were at least 15-20 of the strange robed figures.  "Outnumbered," he cursed under his breath.  "Robed bandits?" he thought to himself.

He turned and shook his head at Valeria, signaling for her to stay put.  The odds were too great and, as much as he hated to admit it, there was nothing they could do.  Assured that Val wouldn't give away their position, Tonan peered once more through the fog.

The bandits had waylaid what appeared to be a merchant wagon, presumably on its way to Hommlet for the festival.  The front wheel on the driver's side was cracked, and the vehicle was slumped over at an angle.  The two occupants of the wagon sat motionless, helpless and terrified.  Tonan gripped his twin blades in sweating hands, just itching to inflict harsh justice upon these most unusual brigands.

As the ranger watched in stunned silence, the "bandits" began to form a ring around the wagon.  They marched in a steady circle around their captives with their faces and hands hidden within the folds of their long, dark yellow robes.  Tonan's blood went cold as the figures began a low chant that filled the night air with an unnatural chill.  The evil emanating from these men was almost tangible.  The pair on the wagon didn't even scream as one of the cultists moved in and swiftly slashed both of their throats with a wicked curved blade.  As their blood spilled into the rocky earth, the brigand cultists writhed and moaned in horrifying ecstasy. 

The moaning didn't end until the last drop of blood had dripped from the necks of the victims.  Then, the cultists stood up as if nothing had happened and they got to work.  Two of the larger men walked over to the front of the wagon and hefted the bodies from where they had collapsed.  They dumped the corpses into a ditch on the other side of the road from where Tonan was hidden, and then they returned to the wagon to help the others.

Four more cultists had already propped the wagon up on a large stone and were working on repairing the broken wheel.  Tonan watched with a grim expression on his face, while constantly shushing poor Valeria, who was growing desperate to know what was going on.  Almost thirty minutes had elapsed before the strange robed bandits had the wagon repaired, and they had moved it off-road to head west into the Kron Hills.

Tonan relaxed a bit as the party began to move away into the night; a night which suddenly felt much darker.  Sound carries a long way in the fog, and the sharp-eared ranger was able to discern a parting comment from one of the cultists...

"It is still another full day's journey to the stronghold.  We must make haste.  The masters will be growing impatient by now, but I believe they will be pleased with what we have done."

Tonan turned back to the shelter, where Valeria and Thor both sat glaring at him (as much as a wolf could glare).  Val's face softened a bit when she saw the look in her friend's eyes.  "I'm not tired anymore," the ranger stated plainly.  "How about we try to make it to the Fies' by morning.  Whaddya think?"

Valeria nodded her assent and helped Tonan to gather their things.   Within minutes, the pine branches were scattered far from the camp, and the saplings were once again standing upright in their natural position.  There was no sign whatsoever that anyone had been hiding in the bushes.  The murderous cult would never know that their dark deeds on the road that night had been witnessed by anyone.


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## Enkhidu (Jul 1, 2002)

> “Where did the evil go,” he wondered out loud?





I love it.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 2, 2002)

Gann would be pleased to know that there are folks out there quoting him.  It's good for his fragile evil-smiting ego.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 3, 2002)

*Session II: Prelude 2*

Valeria leaned over the washbasin, staring at her hands.  Her furrowed brow was gleaming with sweat from the strain of her intense concentration.  "Go back," she growled through clenched teeth, "Go back!"  She winced in pain, and as she watched, the claws that were protruding from her fingers retracted back into the bone.  "Please... go back!"  Val closed her eyes, and she could hear her joints popping into place as her features became less catlike, and more human with every passing moment.  The full moon was still a few days away, but the spasms had already begun.  As the first light of the morning sun shined through the window, all signs of her affliction faded, and she was a woman once more.

"Val, are you ready to get out of here yet?" she heard Tonan's voice from the other room.  "This place makes me feel closed in, you know that!"

"Poor Tonan," she thought to herself as she regained her composure.  "This place makes him feel closed in?!  Hummph.  This place had better close me in, or I might just end up eating him alive one of these nights.  He doesn't know how good he's got it!"  Luckily, Valeria had anticipated a "difficult" morning and she had packed the night before.  She and Tonan were headed to Hommlet to visit their good friends, Mandy and Karlun Fies.  With one final glance in the mirror, Valeria shouldered her backpack and walked out into the common area of their small house.  Tonan was sitting on a bench with his head in his hands.  It looked like he had fallen back asleep.  She didn't hesitate to scold him.  After all, he'd been nagging her to hurry up for nearly an hour, unaware of her inner turmoil.

"All right, all right," said Valeria.  "Let's get moving already.  If you'd quit just sitting around all morning, we might have a chance of making it to Karlun's by midnight."  Tonan looked up and scowled, though there was no real anger on his face.  He grabbed his own gear and followed Val out the door.

Val and Tonan walked for several hours in silence.  Somewhere along the way, they had been joined by Tonan's wolf companion, Thor.  Valeria was so used to Thor's company that she hadn't really noticed when he had shown up.  She had other things on her mind... like how to tell her dearest life-long friend that she was a weretiger!  She had feared for years that her family's curse might someday creep into her life, but there was no way for her to know for sure if, and when it might happen.  All of that changed just three months ago...

Valeria shook the memory of the horror of that night out of her mind.  She couldn't dwell on the problems of her family's past, but she would deal with the challenges of her own future.  Obstacles that she was determined to overcome!  The most immediate challenge she faced arrived in the form of a large, dark cloud.  "Uh oh," she said, breaking the long silence of their journey.  "I think we better find some shelter.  It doesn't look like we're going to make it to Hommlet tonight."  The idea of sleeping out in the rain didn't bother Valeria.  She was a seasoned adventurer, and no stranger to facing the elements.  On this particular evening, however, the idea of being out in the open at night was rather upsetting.  

As long as the moon was not yet at its fullest, Valeria could hold back the change within her through intense concentration.  If she fell asleep, however, the curse would take over and she would no longer be in control of her actions.  This presented a very real and immediate danger to both herself, and to Tonan.  Mandy Fies knew of Valeria's "condition", and discreet arrangements had been made.  The wide open road wasn't quite as forgiving.  Val sighed as she anticipated the long, sleepless night ahead of her.

Tonan was a skilled ranger, and he constructed a very sturdy shelter for the traveling trio in no time.  The friends huddled together and shared a light dinner of venison jerky before pulling out their bedrolls.  Tonan suggested that, if they turned in early, perhaps the storm would blow over and they could resume their journey well before sunrise.  With the constant patter of the falling rain over their heads, the ranger was asleep within a matter of minutes.  Valeria was left alone with her curse.

The first few hours were the worst due to one simple factor... the anticipation!  Fortunately, the dense cloud cover lessened the effect of the moon's influence over Valeria during that time.  However, as Tonan had predicted, the storm didn't last all night.  Val shivered as the sound of the rain faded, and the icy fingers of the lycanthropic curse began to grip her mind.  She closed her eyes and tried to force it away.  She could feel her muscles ripping and her bones aching, but she would not let it consume her... she MUST not let it happen.

Valeria's senses were on overdrive. She felt as if she could see the few scattered remaining raindrops as they left the clouds from whence they fell.  The scents of the damp Spring night assaulted her nostrils with an almost painful intensity.  And the supposedly silent wilderness came alive with the sounds of.... battle?  Val sat up inside the makeshift hut and cocked her head to the side.  The noise of steel on wood, mingled with fearful cries, was unmistakable.  The curse forgotten for the moment, she shook Tonan roughly.  "Fighting," she managed to force out through half-feline vocal chords.  "On the road." 

Tonan grabbed his weapons and he crawled out of the hut.  He was gone for what seemed like an eternity as Valeria struggled against the change within her... a battle that threatened to tear her apart.  In the midst of her agony, a horrifying sound filled her ears and echoed in her mind.  A moaning.  A sickening, ghastly groan that hung in the air like stagnant death.  It was coming from the direction of the road.

Valeria had the presence of mind to fear for Tonan's safety, but only for a moment before the agony overwhelmed her.  Her body shook with spasms of pain as her tendons twisted and her bones stretched.  All the while, the horrid moaning continued to dominate her awareness.

And then it stopped.

Valeria sucked in great gulps of fresh air as she sensed her body returning to normal.  The groaning had ceased, and the night was silent once more.  Weakened from her ordeal, the young woman could do little more than kneel in the cool, damp grass, and focus on the present.  In time, Tonan returned to find Val in a grim state.  "I'm not tired anymore," the ranger stated plainly. "How about we try to make it to the Fies' by morning. Whaddya think?"

Valeria sensed that her friend had experienced some trauma of his own.  Comforted, and saddened by the fact that she did not suffer alone, Val helped Tonan to pack their things.  A short time later, the pair was back on the open road walking towards Hommlet, with Thor following a short distance behind.  Neither one said a word until the darkness parted, and the rising sun brought light back into their world.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 4, 2002)

*Session II: Chapter 5*

Chapter 5 - Back at the Inn 

Session 2: June 29, 2002 

28 Coldeven, Dinner Time: 

Gann relaxed his grip on his mace and settled back into his seat.  Somewhat embarrassed that his companions may have witnessed yet another one of his outbursts, he swiftly composed himself and got right to the point.  "I have learned much this day from those who would gladly support our cause of dishing out divine retribution upon the wretched evil we have encountered. How have you fared in your quest?"

Tyris and Willow slid onto the bench next to the cleric.  They were then joined, on the other side of the table, by two newcomers.  One was a tall and slender woodsman, and the other was a copper-haired woman with piercing eyes.  Gann raised an eyebrow in suspicion and subconsciously allowed his hand to fall back upon the hilt of his sacred Truncheon of Truth.  "Well, for one," began Willow, "We've found ourselves two new allies.  This is Valeria, and her companion Tonan.  Both hail from Verbobonc.  They will be joining us, at least for a while."

Gann nodded politely in the direction of the newcomers, and he addressed them directly.  "And by what virtue should I consider the two of you my allies?" He glanced sideways at the couple and asked bluntly, "Not evil, are you?" Turning to Willow, he continued,  "It seems you have traded three trusted friends for these two strangers."  A vision of Tas popped into Gann's mind, and he reworded his statement.  "Make that two trusted friends and a halfing," he said, looking pensive.  "Perhaps not such a bad bargain after all."

The woman smiled and did not seem phased by Gann's excess of personality. "You must be Gann Tolar," she noted.  "Your companions have spoken much of your bravery, and we are happy to meet you.  I believe you are just the righteous sort we are in need of."  Gann seemed genuinely pleased by the compliment, and he relaxed a bit as the woman continued.  "As Willow has stated, my name is Valeria, and this is my good friend Tonan.  We had come to Hommlet to celebrate the festival of Growfest with old friends, but I'm afraid our journey has taken a sour turn."

A large tray, loaded with steaming potatoes and mugs of ale, was suddenly shoved across the table, forcing Gann and Valeria to lean back to avoid getting smacked on the chin.  "Here ya go," said Maridosen, with a sour expression on her face.  "On the house, from the old lady," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared back into the crowd.

Tyris leaned forward and scowled at the young woman.  "That girl," she explained to Val and Tonan, "is high on my 'list'.  She's given us more trouble over the past two days than the evil in the Moathouse.  She'll get what's coming to her soon enough.  Just watch!"

"Poor lass," observed Gann. "Seems she's upset that I'm going off to get my fool self killed smiting evil."

“Anyway,” piped in Tonan, anxious to relate his tale, “We arrived at our friends’ home to find them inexplicably absent.  That was a most distressing, considering the frightening events of our journey.  I witnessed a murder last night, on the road from Verbobonc.”

Gann looked unimpressed.  Murder was a foul deed, to be sure.  It was a deed that deserved swift justice from a devotee to the god of retribution.  But, compared to the evil he was up against right now, it was a small matter for Gann.  The cleric was losing interest, and he began to push his potatoes around his plate with his fork.  Willow gestured for Tonan to continue.

“I’ve been witness do many deaths,” said the ranger, “But none like this.  The intense evil of this act will haunt my dreams for years to come.”

Gann’s head perked up at the mention of evil.

“A merchant wagon with two innocent travelers was ambushed on the road, in the dark.  The wagon was surrounded by a bunch of occult crazies.  Every one of them was dressed in a dark yellow robe, and it was like they made some kind of ritual out of the killing of their prisoners.”

Tyris and Willow were satisfied that Tonan’s story had Gann’s full attention at this point.

“I felt so helpless… there were so many of them, and it was just Valeria and myself hiding in the bushes along with my friend, Thor.  I couldn’t do anything but watch.  It was horrible, what they did to those two.  The crazies moaned and writhed and sang some kind of morbid death song, driving the poor wagon riders nearly insane with fear before slitting their throats.”  Tonan’s voice was trembling at this point, and Valeria put her hand on his broad shoulder to calm him.

Gann stared wide-eyed at the ranger, and then turned to Willow, who was nodding at him knowingly.  “You see,” she stated with an undisguised measure of pride in herself.  “We did good, right?  It was right for us to bring these two here?”

The cleric of St. Cuthbert stood up at his seat as if preparing to make an important announcement, and then he reconsidered and sat back down.  “You have done well, my friends,” he responded, measuring his words carefully.  “But I yet have questions.  First and foremost, where are the others?  Why have Davok, Tas and Endora not returned for dinner as we had agreed?  That is a dishonorable thing to do… to break a pact.”

“Their reasons are honorable, I assure you,” Valeria interjected.  “When she heard of the evil we had witnessed, this ‘Endora’ that you speak of became enraged.  Tonan overheard one of the cultists mention a stronghold in the Kron Hills, and your paladin friend insisted that it be investigated and destroyed at once!  She started to march away on the spot, but Willow here slowed her down just long enough to form some kind of plan.”

“Plan?” grumbled Gann.  It was apparent that he resented not being included in the formation of any plan that involved smiting evil.

“You see,” explained Willow.  “Tyris and I were talking to a wizard craftsman down by the southern bridge, along with Endora and the others.  He was in town for the festival, hoping to make some gold to fill his coffers and support his trade.  Thester, I believe was his name.  Anyway, he quoted us a very fair price for many of the items we recovered from the Moathouse.  His inventory was pitifully small, and we almost passed him by at first… but he saw what we were carrying and insisted on speaking with us.  Anyway, he told us that last night, on the road to Hommlet, his wagon was ambushed by strange robed men!  He was following a short distance behind on his donkey, and he could only watch in horror as his apprentices were murdered, and his livelihood was stolen!”

“And that’s where we came in,” Tonan piped up.

Gann looked confused.

“Tonan and I happened to be walking up the same road,” Val explained, “and we overheard the merchant relaying his story to your friends, here.  We stopped to listen, and the two of us became part of the conversation.”

“So what does all this have to do with the plan?” Gann asked, growing frustrated.

Tyris chimed in, rolling her eyes as if she were stating the obvious.  “We couldn’t just let Endora run off into the hills by herself to take on a stronghold of insane cultists.  So, we sold the magic bow we found to Thester, and we gave the profits to Endora for her journey.  After a bit more discussion, Davok and Tas agreed to accompany her.  The three of them together, while they may not be able to bring the stronghold to its knees, will surely make an effective scouting team to bring back tactical information!”

“We would probably have gone with them, if for no other reason than to satisfy my guilt at not assisting the wizard’s apprentices,” added Tonan.  “But, like I said before, our friends here in town are missing.”

“Yes,” said Valeria.  “We stopped by the flour mill early this morning… our friends are the millers, of course… and their house was closed up tight.  We spoke with Themock, who helps Karlun run the mill… that’s our friend, Karlun… and he said that he hadn’t seen Karlun or Mandy in a couple of days.

“So, we figured we’d spend the day in town and see if we could find them… or at least learn news of them,” finished Tonan.

“So?” asked Willow.  “What do you think, Gann?  Is it possible that the missing millers… this Karlun and Mandy… could be connected with this oddball cult?  I think we should check it out!  Oh… and that Thester guy down by the south bridge… he said that, since he had very little to sell after his tragedy, that he’d be thankful to buy whatever we had.  I told him that we’d have to talk it over with you first.  I just sold the bow to give Endora, Tas and Davok some traveling money.  I figured that was fair enough, and Tyris agreed with me.”

Gann nodded his assent.  “Yes, Willow.  I believe we have found ourselves a pair of allies to help us fight the good fight.  While the danger at the Moathouse is weighing on my mind, the possibility that the evil may have spread into this peaceful town… into their flour mill, by the Cudgel!  Well that needs immediate attention.”  Gann tossed his hard roll down in disgust.  "I shall not partake of bread baked from evil wheat!"  The cleric stood up once again and extended his hand to his new friends.  “I am pleased to have you join us,” he said, and he meant it. 

“I have learned from a fellow cleric at the church of my patron, St. Cuthbert, that the mace we brought back from the Moathouse has magical properties, though its value does not outweigh that of my own Truncheon of Truth.  I would think that we should visit this Thester fellow and allow him the opportunity to sell it to someone who would wield it honorably in the never ending war against all that is corrupt.  It is well that such a noble purpose would also bring us some measure of profit, that we might use to better equip ourselves to face our own conflict.”

The companions, now numbering five, rose from their table and headed for the door.  As they pushed their way through the crowded common room, the bard who had been performing poorly throughout the evening jumped down and ran up to them.  In a blatant effort to draw attention to himself, to compensate for his overwhelming lack of any other real talent, the half elf stood on a chair and made an announcement to the patrons.  “Give a cheer!  Raise your drinks, one and all for my good friends!  Let us hear it for Spugnoir’s Saviours!”

Gann shoved past and led the party out of the inn, leaving the joyfully drunk commoners behind.  Within seconds of the group’s departure, the crowd had already forgotten what they were cheering about.  They went on with their revelry, blissfully unaware that the cult of the Elder Elemental Eye had once again returned to Hommlet.

***

Moments later, the door opened once more and a lone figure departed from the inn and moved silently into the growing darkness.  The figure followed the heroes, and remained just far enough behind to avoid detection.  He heard the haughty cleric speak...

"So, my new woodland friend," he said to the tall ranger.  "Who's Thor?" ....


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jul 5, 2002)

After much reading, I've just caught up to the end of this thread. 

Great stuff, the PC's and NPC's all have really vibrant characters - I wouldn't want to name a favourite because it would shadow the rest, so I won't  . 

I played through a little of the Temple a while ago, and all the old names are like going back through the adventure (never a bad thing). I remember that dragon all too well (nearly blew my strength 8 bard into pieces - but he survived and wrote a song about it).

... looking forward to seeing how you guys react to what me and my friends went through... 

[Spider resists spilling vital plot clues everywhere]

Also, it gives some great angles on the stories when the players add their thoughts in other postings... keep it going.


and lastly... superb character entrance for Tyris... it made me laugh out loud.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 5, 2002)

Those are high compliments from a talented writer such as yourself.  I love your Story Hour as well.  Thank you!


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## Enkhidu (Jul 5, 2002)

I only have one problem with this story hour...

I don't have nearly enough wilpower to stop reading it and get back to work.

Gann Tolar's bewlidered singlemindedness is just tooooooo entertaining, and the plot seems to be thickening - I'm just hoping that my group never goes through the RttToEE, because I really want to read your account, spoilers and all.


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## Malessa (Jul 6, 2002)

I have to give my husband credit, he is a wonderful writer.  

In case anyone doesn't already know, I play Willow in his campain.  I've been encouraging him to hurry and write more, because being new to the game, it helps refresh my memory of what was said and took place.  Plus, I enjoy reading the way he puts our adventure in a much better light.  Other than, "can I do this", "is it time for a smoke break yet?", "I didn't miss my turn did I, I had to use restroom?"....etc..

In his next campaign, which is around the corner, I plan on taking notes, w/help from group, so he isn't calling everyone an hour after they leave, "who said that". "who did that cool thing"?  So maybe he can organize his thoughts better, therefore, write faster, which makes it ready and readable sooner, with more quotes and what nots...

PS. I'll try to come up with a sketch of Gann soon, I know you'all must be dying to see what he must look like........I'm thinking, Bruce Cambell look, from "Army of Darkness" movie, tee hee....What do you think?........Willow


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jul 6, 2002)

> PS. I'll try to come up with a sketch of Gann soon, I know you'all must be dying to see what he must look like........I'm thinking, Bruce Cambell look, from "Army of Darkness" movie, tee hee....What do you think?........Willow




Yup. That hits the spot.

*Surrounded by evil and low on gas*.... maybe.

Love the weretiger stuff by the way, always fun to have a furry time bomb in the party.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 7, 2002)

*Session II: Chapter 6*

Chapter 6 - The Millhouse

28 Coldeven, Early Evening

After splitting the profits from the sale of the mace to the wizard merchant, Thester, the group left the area of Southbridge and marched across town to the millhouse.  Valeria and Tonan were hoping that they would find that their friends, Karlun and Mandy Fies, had returned home safely. However, with all that they had seen over the past two days, the others were less confident that the millers' fate was a pleasant one.

Tonan was back in familiar territory after the group passed over Eastbridge.  They were very close to the home of his friends, and he had been this way many times before.  The ranger quickened his pace, and he strode purposefully to the front of the party with his wolf companion, Thor, at his side.  He appreciated the help of these kind strangers, but Tonan preferred to fight his own battles.  He wasn't used to following anyone's lead.

As the ranger drew closer to the millhouse, his steps slowed and gradually wound down to a halt.  He stood in Karlun’s front yard and frowned as his new friends gathered around him.  “It looks like nobody’s been here in a while,” he observed.  The comfortable family home was stark and lifeless.  The lantern on the stoop was cold and dark, and the candles on the windowsills remained unlit.  Tonan tried to peer inside through the front window, and he stepped away shaking his head.  “There’s nobody home.  I don’t get it… our visit has been planned for weeks.  We were expected.  Something’s not right.”

Tyris stepped forward and tried the latch.  “It’s unlocked!” she declared, and stepped back down into the yard.  Tonan noted the look in Valeria’s eyes.  She was truly worried for their friends, that much was obvious.  However, in the fading light of the setting sun, he could tell that there was a much deeper fear welling up inside of her.  She was highly distressed.  The ranger had seen this expression on Val’s face more than once in the past few months, and he made a mental note to ask her about it in private sometime.

“I’m going to check it out,” Tonan announced.

“Hold on,” said Gann, pushing his way past the ranger who glared at him viciously.  The cleric pointed at the door and announced importantly, “Look here. The door latch and stoop have some kind of white… umm... white… uh... well, more or less whitish… err… goop on them.” 

“I have an uneasy feeling here, like this is some kind of trap,” Willow suggested.  “I think we should probably take a look around back, first.”

“There’s nothing back there but the river,” Tonan stated, and he entered the house, apparently disregarding the concerns of both Gann and Willow.  “Besides, these people run a flour mill.  There’s nothing unusual about a little bit of flour paste on a doorknob.”  The druid shrugged back at the once again deflated cleric and stepped in behind Tonan, followed closely by Gann, and then Tyris.  Valeria remained outside on the front steps, staring out uneasily into the evening gloom.

“It’s so quiet,” Willow whispered.  She wasn’t sure why she felt the need for stealth and silence.  There was certainly nothing threatening about an empty country home.  Regardless, the young druid remained on alert.

The large front room was tidy, but had a comfortable “lived-in” feel to it.  Soft, well worn cushions formed a semi-circle around a low table in the middle of the room.  Shelves with various trinkets and keepsakes lined the walls.  A dining area, which was prepared for two, was set up in the corner.  Tonan frowned again as he took note that the guest chairs had not been brought out.  Growing more concerned, he moved back towards the kitchen.

“Ugh!” gasped Tonan as he pushed the kitchen door open on its squeaky hinges.  The smell of decaying refuse hit him full in the face, and he nearly gagged before he composed himself and moved forward.  Ants and roaches skittered freely about in the small cooking area, feasting on the rotting food that was left lying out on the counter and cutting stone.  “Oh no,” sighed Tonan, as his worst fears came to light.

“Oh,” said Willow as she peered inside to see what the source of the smell was.  “It looks like they just disappeared in the middle of preparing breakfast.”  A block of moldy, roach infested cheese sat on the cutting stone with the knife still stuck into it, mid-slice.  What appeared to have been a fresh baked loaf of bread was on the counter.  It was now rock-hard and covered with a pale blue, fuzzy fungus.  The severely scorched remains of what once may have been bacon and eggs sat on top of the stove.  The coals underneath had burned themselves out many days ago.

“There is no sign of a struggle that I can see,” Tonan pointed out.  “It’s like they just left?  I don’t understand… I just don’t get it?”

Just then, Valeria called out from the front of the house in a harsh whisper.  “There’s somebody out here,” she said shrilly.  I can hear whistling from the side of the house.”  Thor growled.

“I told you we should have checked around back,” Willow scolded.  She stormed out of the house and went straight to the east side of the yard where the sound of a sad, slow tune could clearly be heard.  She moved with caution as she reached the edge of the front wall, and she peered around the corner.  There was nothing there.

The men gathered around her, and they moved as a group into the side yard.  They stood there looking at each other, baffled.  “It’s right here!” shouted Willow, the frustration on her face was plain for all to see.  “You hear it too, don’t you?  It’s like there should be someone standing here, right between me and you… whistling!”

Suddenly, an arrow shot across the front yard towards Tyris… from the opposite side of the house!  “Ambush!” the sorceress yelled as the projectile whizzed by her ear, close enough for her to feel the fletching tickle her neck.

Valeria turned around to face west as the “thwap” of a second bowstring could be heard.  She winced as the arrow tore through her blouse and opened a deep gash in her side.  She looked up at her attacker with fire in her eyes.  First blood had been drawn.  She snarled, “It’s on!”

The bowman that had wounded Valeria dropped his weapon and charged the group, drawing a large axe from behind as he ran.  Gann met the attack head on, and in a single whirling motion he drew his mighty Truncheon of Truth and brought it about in a wide arc.  The blow caught the villain square in the gut with the full force of the cleric’s righteous rage behind it.  The sound of the air rushing out of the unfortunate man’s lungs was mingled with the sickening crack of splintered ribs.

As the second bowman took cover behind the west side of the house, Willow noticed the doubled-over victim of Gann’s powerful swing was reaching for a dagger that was hidden in his boot.  She quickly filled her mouth with spittle as she called upon the power of the earth.  The druid took aim and spat the magically enhanced wad directly into the would-be assassin’s face.  The man cried out as the ball of spit filled his eyes and hardened instantly, stinging horribly and effectively blinding him.

On a signal from Tonan, the mighty Thor leapt upon the wounded man’s back and tore into him with savage fury.  The assassin barely had time to scream before his throat was torn out, thus ending his pain.

Tyris turned her attention towards the remaining attacker.  The sorceress raised her arms in the air, and she could feel the magical energies gathering within her mind and body.   “Obdormio” she shouted, and she thrust her hands out, towards her foe. 

The bowman staggered and he dropped his weapon, suddenly feeling very drowsy.  The cultist’s force of will was stronger than Tyris’ power, however, and he was able to shake off the magical effects of her sleep spell.  Using the corner of the house for support, the enemy rose once more and looked Tyris in the eye.  He raised his index finger and moved it back and forth in a tick-tock motion as a mother might do to a naughty child, and he smiled.

Valeria stepped forward as she mashed some iron dust and powdered brimstone into a sticky ball of tallow wax.  “Succendo,” she said as she swung her right arm around in a bowling motion.  The moment the wizard’s components hit the earth, they ignited into a flaming sphere which rolled with destructive fury directly towards the cocky assassin.  Val’s satisfaction at the success of her spell was short lived, as a wave of colorful, sparkling lights washed over her and her companions.  The female wizard went down on one knee, stunned by the arcane power of the lights.  “Color spray,” she managed to gasp as she watched Gann Tolar collapse onto the hard stone path.

Unaffected by the surprise magical attack, Willow turned to face this new threat.  A gnome, dressed in the garish trappings of an evil arcanist, stepped out from the shadows and started casting a new spell.  Willow began summoning the power of the air, working on a spell of her own.

Suddenly, from nowhere, a new combatant entered the fray.  Before any of the companions had time to react, a halfing ran across the yard from the direction of Eastbridge and quickly pumped two crossbow bolts into the cocky bowman.  With a look of pain and astonishment, the evil man collapsed into Valeria’s oncoming flaming sphere, and he burst into flame.  The newcomer swiftly smothered the fire and began searching the corpse.

Tonan, unsure of the unidentified killer’s motives, sent Thor to the corner of the house to keep an eye on him.  The wolf growled at the halfing menacingly, and the diminutive rogue backed off.  Satisfied that the situation was under control, the ranger grabbed his bow and turned back to face the gnomish magic user.  Tonan drew back to fire, but he was momentarily distracted as a swarm of bats burst forth from the night air and surrounded the evil mage.  The gnome’s spell casting was disrupted, and Tonan’s arrow flew wide.  Confused, the ranger looked over his shoulder just in time to see Willow ball up her fist and jerk her elbow back into her side in a victory motion. 

“Yesss,” Willow shouted gleefully as her summoned swarm of bats ravaged her enemy from above!

Tyris leapt over the inert body of Gann Tolar and pointed all ten fingers at the gnome as she bellowed, “Contendo!”  Two magic missiles fired from her fingertips and they struck the mage square in the chest, frying a couple of bats in the process.  The swarm scattered and the gnome fell to the ground, quite dead.

Tonan swiftly knocked another arrow and turned back towards the mysterious halfing, and he saw yet another figure coming across the bridge.  This time, it was a woman dressed in shining armor, and she was waving her arms in the air.  “It’s all right,” she was shouting.  “Don’t shoot!”

Gann groaned as he slowly regained consciousness, and he propped himself up on his knees.  “My head hurts,” he moaned.  “And I can’t see so good.”  He jerked his head back and forth, trying to shake off the effects of the color spray.

“Endora?” said Willow in surprise as she recognized the approaching woman.  “Is that you?  What are you doing here?”

“Call off the wolf,” the paladin said as she stepped into the circle of friends, out of breath.  “I think he’s about to eat Tas!”

Tyris, who hadn’t seen the halfing enter the fray, looked surprised.  “Tas is here too,” she asked?

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” moaned Gann.


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## Jodo Kast (Jul 7, 2002)

Willow, I'm all for the Bruce Campbell look for Gann.  I suggested either Campbell or Patrick Warburton (The Tick, Seinfeld, MIBII).  I didn't originally envision the character as being so comically single-minded.  He was going to be sort of a medieval Batman, a grim, versatile dark knight detective type.  But five minutes into the first session I found myself saying "smite evil" every time I opened my mouth and talking in a Bruce Campbell/The Tick voice, and everything just fell into place.

Great work Brian, makes for an interesting read even if I did play through it already.

"Surrounded by evil ... and I fail my Will save vs. color spray.  Doh!"  As fate would have it, the night only got worse for the valiant Gann Tolar.  I think I'm going to skip reading the next installment, it is sure to chronicle the most embarassing moment in an otherwise unblemished career of smiting evil and trading witty repartee with villains bent on world conquest (or at least control of small, relatively unimportant towns).


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## Malessa (Jul 7, 2002)

Hey Gann, if I remember correctly, we both seemed to have an interesting ride! Unfortunately at our (mostly you) expense, I look forward to having a good hearted chuckle at the next chapter. 
As for all you readers, this is where you should be on the edge of your seat, anticipating and thirsting for more.

PS. Started Gann's character sketch, should have it ready and posted by sometime tomorrow.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 8, 2002)

*Character Sketch for Gann*

Hi folks,

Malessa has finally finished the long-awaited character sketch for Gann Tolar.  It can be found here... just scroll to the bottom.

Don't forget to check out Malessa's custom character sketches for Endora, Tyris, Davok, and Willow.

She has also done several pieces of custom art for other aspects of the campaign which can be seen on my World Page.

Regards,
DM Cthulu Ftaghn


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## Jodo Kast (Jul 8, 2002)

Great work Willow, thanks for doing artwork for Gann!  Very cool, even in a "smite evil" pose.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 8, 2002)

Actually, it's more of a "this is my boomstick" pose.  ;-)


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## Malessa (Jul 9, 2002)

Glad you like the pic. Gann  I tried a few other poses, but that one seemed to fit.  Lemme know though, if you prefer another, I can redo.
Not much response from you readers out there *sniff sniff*, must be disappointed in my sketch.  Was you hoping for something more?


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jul 10, 2002)

> Not much response from you readers out there *sniff sniff*, must be disappointed in my sketch. Was you hoping for something more?




No, Its just I can't help but think Bruce Campbell when I see that stance. I guess thats the problem with nicking a pose from a cult actor...  

But hey. I now see Gann-Tolar as Bruce, so I guess it worked after all (and anything Bruce kinda guarantees readership from me). All you need now is Gann-Tolar to have a moment where he can just scream to the skies in a frenzy of over acting.

Anyway. I digress. We've got loads on Gann... what about the other characters? Willow? Tyris? Endora? Davok? (I know there are sketches... it just seems Gann is running away with the show).

Spider.


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## Malessa (Jul 10, 2002)

Doh.... forgot to login as me again... this is Cthulu:

I'm quite conscious of Gann's dominance in the storyline thus far, and I'm working to correct it.... not by downplaying Gann at all... I want him to remain a vibrant and colorful character throughout the campaign... but by trying to bring out some of the other character personalities a bit more.  Actually, that last chapter revolved largely around the thoughts and actions of Tonan... especially since Gann was out-cold for about 1/3 of the action.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 10, 2002)

*Session II: Chapter 7, Part I*

Chapter 7 is getting rather long, so I'll post Part I tonight, and I'll try to finish it off by tomorrow, if I can....

Chapter 7 - The Mill, Part I

28 Coldeven, Late Evening

“So,” Willow demanded, once things had settled down a bit.  “What, exactly, are you doing here?  And where is Davok?  Is he alright?”

“Davok is fine,” Endora assured her.  “We met up with a group of his clansmen on the road just outside Hommlet,” she explained.  “They were coming to town to find him.  It was so sad.  There was an old wise man that traveled with them.  He told us that shortly after Davok left to join us, their village fell under attack.  The scene he described was frighteningly similar to the experience that Tonan had last night.  All these yellow robed cult-freaks arrived in the village while the men were out on a hunting party.  Their numbers were overwhelming, and they began the ritualistic slaughter of the women and elders.  The children were taken off into the Kron Hills… how awful!”

Tonan pounded his fist into his hand and turned away at the news.  Gann, who was still recovering from the after-effects of the spell that felled him, had to sit down on the front stoop of the millhouse to digest this grisly new information.  The reaction of everyone was one of grim frustration and anger.  Everyone except for Tas, that is.  He was busy picking over the bodies of the fallen cultists, looking for anything that the group may have missed on their initial perusal.

Endora continued, “The daughter of one of the hunters hid in the woods and witnessed the whole thing.  By the time the men returned, it was too late to do anything but mourn the dead and missing.”  The paladin’s voice quivered with emotion.  “Many of the men remained in the village to try to put the pieces of their lives back together.  Still, a posse was quickly formed, and they left immediately to hunt down the cultists and retrieve the children.  Most of them were just trackers, though, and they lacked any real muscle in the group.  That’s why they came for Davok.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tas interjected.  “So the mighty half-human hero killing machine went with his tribesmen to storm the cult stronghold in the hills… bla, bla, bla… they can figure out the rest.”

Willow and Endora scowled fiercely at the halfling for his crude remarks, and even Thor growled at him.

Valeria walked over to Tonan and looped her arm through his.  “Is that what we’re up against here,” she asked sadly?  “Is that what happened to Mandy and Karlun?”

“Whatever may have happened to them,” the ranger replied, forcing his voice to remain steady, “We can’t be everywhere at once.  The situation to the west is being handled.  Right now, we must concentrate on the here and now, and on the fate of our friends.  I’m going to the mill to question Themock again.  I should have pressed him for more information this morning.”  With that, he pushed gently away from Val and stalked off towards the mill.  Nobody argued, and the party followed Tonan across the yard and to the front of the mill.

***

Within fifty feet of the mill, it was obvious to everyone that the massive grinding stone was in use.  A large, horizontal water wheel underneath the building was turned by the power of the river.  A simple iron pinion arrangement rotated the bull gear, which in turn drove the mighty stone within the mill.  Despite careful maintenance and bucket loads of grease, the building still shuddered while the mill was operating.

As the party was lined up along the front of the building, trying to determine whether or not it was safe to enter, Gann strode forward and barged through the door.  Tonan stepped in behind him amidst a swirling white cloud of flour dust.

Everything inside the mill appeared to be normal.  The burly foreman, Themock, was hard at work loading sacks of flour as it poured out of the chute on the eastern side of the grinding stone.  His two assistants were busy piling grain into the feeder.  Themock nodded to the men to acknowledge their presence, and he called upon one of his workers to take his position at the flour chute.  Tonan barely recognized Karlun’s chief assistant as the man whom he had spoken to earlier in the day.  The fellow was covered from head to toe in flour, and his large brown eyes shining out from his powdery white countenance gave him a rather comical appearance.

“They ain’t heeya,” Themock stated plainly, in a deeply accented drawl.  “Ain’t seen Mandy nor Karlun in in many a day, now.”

“What do you know of their disappearance,” Tonan asked bluntly, with just a hint of a threat in his voice?  “We are expected guests and good friends.  They should be here.”  The ranger left out any mention of the ambush at the millhouse on purpose.

“They ain’t disappeared, nossuh,” replied Themock, turning away from the uptight ranger.  “Said they’d be back befo’ the festival.  That put’s ‘em back heeya befo’ tomorruh mo’nin’, by my reckonin’.”

Valeria once again posted herself outside the door as the rest of the party entered the mill.  With six armed, and obviously upset adventurers in their midst, the workers halted production and stared fearfully at the group.  Seeing the look on his men’s faces, Themock turned back around to face his “guests”.  It was then that Gann noticed that something wasn’t quite right.  The foreman’s face was no longer covered in powdery flour dust.  His skin was coated in a pasty film, as if the flour had mingled with…

“…sweat!” roared Gann as he grabbed Themock by the scruff of the neck and nearly lifted him off the floor.  “You’re afraid,” he practically yelled in the man’s face!  “What are you hiding?  What do you know about the foul evil that is running amok around here?!”

Poor Themock could do little but sputter and quake in the face of the enraged cleric.  His eyes kept straying towards the corner of the mill as his mouth repeatedly failed to form the words that he was trying to say.  Gann didn’t notice the foreman’s gestures, nor did he see the other two mill workers slowly making their way towards the rear exit.

“Perhaps you need some smiting,” shouted Gann!  “You know something more than you’re telling, and my mighty Truncheon of Truth is ready to beat the… uh….. truth right out of you!”

Valeria was watching the spectacle from the door, and it was plain to her that Themock was trying very hard to say something, but he was too shaken up… both physically and emotionally… to spit it out.  “What’s in the corner,” she asked, following the terrified man’s gaze?

Just then, the room went dark.  An unnatural, nearly tangible, inky blackness consumed the heroes at the front of the mill.  In less than the span of a heartbeat, weapons were drawn and spells were readied.  There was a strangled scream, and Themock went limp in Gann’s arms.  It was another ambush!

Tas, the light-footed halfing, tumbled out of the range of the darkness spell and into the eastern corner of the mill where the foreman’s attention had been focused.  Looking down, the rogue realized that he was standing nearly on top of a cleverly concealed trap door, and he jumped back.

Seconds later, the door cracked open just as Endora stepped into the light.  A pale hand reached out from below and grabbed the paladin’s ankle.  There was a brief, sickening sound of sizzling flesh before the surprised woman screamed and kicked the trap door shut.

Hearing her friend’s cry of pain, Willow reacted by pulling a bone from a bat’s wing out of her pouch.  She had picked it up after the battle with the gnomish wizard had left several of the flying rodents dead on the miller’s lawn.  Drawing the power of the air into her body through the bone, the druid sprouted an insubstantial pair of magical wings, and she attempted to soar out of the darkness.  She broke out of the range of the spell a split second before realizing that she had misjudged the height of the ceiling.  There was nothing she could do but brace herself for the impact.  Willow slammed into a crossbeam and spun out of control.  She landed hard on top of the grinding stone as her wings dissolved, and the turning gears whisked the injured druid away from her companions.

Valeria was unable to see what was going on from outside the mill and, hearing the cries of the fallen and injured, she was growing concerned.  “I’m over here,” she yelled into the darkness. “Use my voice to find your way!”  

A much disoriented Tonan stumbled sideways into Thor and, thanks to Val’s direction, they both managed to make their way to the open door.  With a clear point of reference, the ranger was able to get his bearings and plan his next action in the chaotic mess that was unfurling around him.

Tyris was startled as Thor’s tail brushed against her back in the magically induced darkness, and she lunged forward.  Unexpectedly, she found herself standing side by side with Endora in front of the closed cellar door.  She instantly understood that this was where the danger lurked and, without thinking, she reached down and yanked on the latch.  She had only managed to pull the door slightly ajar before the ghastly white hands reached out once again and grabbed her by the wrists.  The genasi sorceress froze as every muscle in her body suddenly seized.  A prisoner in her own body, Tyris stared with terror into the evil eyes of the madman who groped at her from below.  The door slammed shut once again.

Gann Tolar managed to lay the rigid body of the unfortunate foreman against the wall, and then he pulled out his mace.  Muttering a blessing to He of the Cudgel, Gann raised his weapon and charged towards what he judged to be the sound of battle.  Unfortunately, the cleric had lost his sense of direction in the dense blackness, and he ended up slamming into the side of the rotating stone.  An insertion tube for one of the wheel’s grease traps snagged the back of Gann’s belt, and the sputtering cleric was dragged ignominiously off of his feet… and around he went.

Meanwhile, Tas had grown tired of the pale-skinned mage repeatedly popping out of his hole to inflict harm upon his party mates.  The halfing drew his deadly crossbow and leveled it at the door.  The next time it opened, even just an inch, whoever stood below was sure to catch a bolt in the eye!  

Angered by her injury, and seeing that Tas was prepared to provide cover fire, Endora grabbed the latch from Tyris and pulled up with all of her might.  The door shuddered with the force of her pull, but remained shut!  Suddenly, Tonan was at her side.  They looked at each other for a second and then, with grim determination, ranger and paladin combined their strength and gave the door a mighty tug.

The pair nearly toppled over backwards as the door flew open with no resistance whatsoever.  Tas was ready, though, and he instantly let fly two bolts from his enchanted bow.  They flew into the cellar with expert precision… and they bounced harmlessly off the stone wall to the right of the steep staircase.  

Thor came charging out of the darkness and prepared to leap into the pit.  Before he reached the edge, however, a sharp command issued forth from the cellar.  “Detineo,” it said, in the mysterious language of arcane magic.  The wolf halted mid-lunge and skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs.  He slid into Tyris who toppled over, dazed, but once again in control of her body.  Endora reached down and grabbed the fallen sorceress under the arms and dragged her away from the trap door.

A second voice, female this time, spoke yet another word of magic. “Contendo!” And a magic missile shot out of the darkness to pierce Thor’s thick hide.  Tonan’s companion moaned in pain, but the wounded animal remained frozen in place, unable to move.

At the same time, Willow had finally come to her senses and she jumped down from the slowly spinning mill stone, and into the light.  She turned to aid her companions, when she was unexpectedly assaulted by a flying cleric of St. Cuthbert.  Still suspended in the air by his belt, Gann emerged from the darkness with his arms flailing wildly.  In his struggle to free himself, he nearly clubbed poor Willow with the mighty Truncheon of Truth, and she was forced to duck out of the way.  The druid sat there on the wooden floor, entranced by the disturbing site. She watched as the cleric sailed behind the mill, and back into the inky blackness.

To be continued in Part II....


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## Malessa (Jul 13, 2002)

You ever have one of those adventures where no matter how hard you try, the roll of the dice just goes from bad to worse for you..........?

That pretty well sums up Gann and I's day, lol, our action packed campaign takes a turn to comedy and frustration.....But at least you fellow readers will get a good hearted chuckle from it.

Hopefully, our next session(tomorrow), will bring a better dice roll for us, or at the very least, don't get any of us in any more trouble.


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## Jodo Kast (Jul 15, 2002)

Okay, the evil mill-wheel episode was ugly.  But we played today and Gann was somewhat vindicated.  Thanks to a recent level-up he's gained access to _Bull's Strength_ and _Spiritual Weapon_ and used both to great effect today!  Tonan, Tyris, Valeria and Willow also kicked much behind, though DM Cthulu has clearly taken the kid gloves off and showed us just a hint of what his villains can do.  And believe me, Spider, EVERY session is an opportunity for Gann to scream to the skies in a frenzy of over-acting.  Now, if only they had chainsaws and boomsticks in Greyhawk ...


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 15, 2002)

**Sighs* ... a whole lot more writing*

Glad to see you made it home safely!  Driving 90 minutes each way to come play my game... I'm honored... truly!

The results of tonights session are posted on the campaign's message board here.

I still have 2 1/2 chapters of writing to finish from the LAST session... and you guys gave me a whole notebook full of new material from tonight.  Do DM's get compensation for carpel tunnel syndrome?


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## Jodo Kast (Jul 15, 2002)

Back to work, lazy DM!  And don't worry, you'll soon be repaying me for our drives to your place when you start driving down to my neck of the woods to join in on Star Wars: Tales from the Outer Rim.  Which reminds me, we should start e-mailing back and forth about your SW character again soon.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 18, 2002)

*Session II: Chapter 7, Part II*

Hearing the screams that were emanating from the darkness, Valeria judged that her attempts to provide a focal point for her companions with her voice were fruitless.   The wizard gathered up all of the courage she could muster, recalled an effective spell to keep in the back of her mind, and then she plunged into the pitch-black mill.  Val followed the noise of combat until she emerged behind Thor who was standing at the edge of the cellar stairs, magically frozen in place.  With no way of knowing what she was walking into, the young woman was just getting her bearings when a black-clad halfing came rolling towards her.

 Valeria jumped to the side to avoid being bowled over, and she nearly screamed out loud as she stared into the ghastly white, fast approaching, flour-covered face of Gann Tolar.  The unfortunate cleric was just emerging from the darkness for his third trip around the flourmill.  Val dodged out of the way as Willow came running over to help Gann.  Willow reached up and tried to pull him down as he flew past, but instead she managed to get herself hopelessly tangled in his dangling buckles and straps.  Valeria shook her head in astonishment as she watched the cleric sail around the room with his newly acquired druid passenger.

 Tas was deeply frustrated with his failed volley against his sneaky foe, and he was determined to cause some damage.  The light-footed rogue tucked his chin hard against his chest and dove forward into an acrobatic roll.  He tumbled past a very startled Valeria, straight down the steep stairway and into the cellar.  With surprising grace, Tas pulled out of his roll and deftly landed on both feet, right between the two evil mages.  In one fluid motion, he jammed his magical crossbow into the gut of the man in black and pumped a bolt into him at point blank range.  As the man staggered back against the wall, the halfing had just enough room to turn and fire at the female wizard behind him.  His shot was forced wide and high, however, as the woman sliced him across the back with a wickedly curved dagger.

 Tonan saw his chance to make a move, and he dropped his crossbow to the floor.  The ranger drew his sword and jumped into the basement.  He landed hard on the bottom step, and he was forced to hold on with his off hand to avoid falling off.  In an impressive display of strength and agility, which was further fueled by his anger, Tonan pushed off of the stairs and swung around in a wide arc.  His outstretched sword opened a wide gash across the chest of the already injured man in the black robe.  Tonan smiled in grim satisfaction and jumped down to the floor.

 The rest of the companions, who were still upstairs, had no idea what was going on below.  Tyris was still dazed by the spell that was cast upon her, and the sorceress was unable to focus.  She had made several failed attempts to stand, and finally resigned herself to remaining on the floor until the effects had passed.  Endora knelt down at her side, and the she laid hands upon Tyris.  The paladin closed her eyes and she called upon the holy power of Heironeous to aid her friend.  The genasi felt her strength return as the evil magic was forced from her body, and the two women helped each other to stand.  They paused briefly to watch Willow and Gann fly by yet again before heading towards the open trap door.

 The women; the three that had their feet firmly planted on the floor; stood at the edge of the stairs and surveyed the scene below.  Tonan was standing nearly on top of Tas.  Both of them were packed tightly into the narrow space between the wall and the steps along with two evil, and obviously combat savvy, magic users.  Despite the nasty wounds on the male, both still posed a serious threat.

 Valeria was determined to eliminate that threat, especially when her truest and dearest friend was the one in danger.  Seeing Tonan's heavy crossbow lying at her feet, she picked it up and clumsily took aim at the injured wizard, intending to finish him off.  She pulled the trigger and was delighted with the resulting squeal of pain from below.

 "Uh oh," groaned Endora, prompting Valeria to take a second look at her handiwork.  Tas was jumping up and down wildly, and cursing at the top of his lungs.  As he turned away from the ladder, Val could see the shaft of a crossbow bolt protruding from his derriere.

 "Oops," she said, stifling a chuckle.  Valeria quickly knelt down and placed the crossbow back on the floor where she had found it.

 The wounded halfling was furious, and he spun around looking for a victim to vent his anger against.  Looking up, he saw the man in the black robes grimacing down at him.  "You'll do," growled Tas, and he popped off another round from his deadly assassin's bow.  The bolt hit his target in the shoulder and it spun the man around.  With two crossbow bolts sticking out of him and a gaping chest wound from Tonan's sword, the dark wizard staggered across the damp basement.

 Tas cried out in pain again as he was bumped from behind, and the offending projectile was driven deeper into his... wound.  His vision was momentarily obscured as the female mage attempted to push her way past him, and into the open area of the basement.  The rogue looked up just in time to see Tonan's sword lash out, and it cut deeply into the woman's back.  She jerked around and twisted to the side at the unexpected attack, and Tas launched a bolt into her chest for good measure.  He smiled as she slumped to the floor, dying, but still breathing.

 Meanwhile, upstairs, Tyris, Endora and Valeria were waiting for their chance to join the fray.  The small space at the bottom of the steps was far too crowded to accommodate any more bodies.  As soon as the two robed magic users were out of the way, Endora drew her weapon and charged down the stairs with Valeria tight at her heals.  Tyris waited until Tonan had lunged out of the corner with both swords drawn and waving in the air, and she started her descent as well.  She stopped and looked back, however, when she heard the sound ofshouting coming from behind her.

 "Blast you, let go of me!  I can't BELIEVE I got myself into this mess trying to help you," bellowed Willow as she and Gann circled the mill once more.  The angry druid was kicking and squirming, trying to work herself free from the rotating mill, and from the struggling cleric.

 Tonan's charge gave Tyris the space she needed to drop into the cellar and assess the situation.  Things seemed to be well in control.  The female mage lay on the ground a few feet away, gasping for air.  The powerful man in black was also mortally wounded.  Tyris was impressed by the fury of the ranger's renewed attack, which brought the evil wizard to his knees with a series of deep cuts and slashes.  The genasi sorceress was about to relax and drop her guard, but what she saw next made her blood run cold.

 The black robed wizard was on the floor, bleeding from multiple wounds that had been inflicted by the party of heroes.  He barely had the strength to breathe, and he certainly seemed incapable of standing or otherwise posing any kind of significant threat.  Then the man turned his head to look at his fallen companion, the woman who had been cut down by Tas and Tonan, and he smiled wickedly.  With great effort, he forced himself to speak a single word through bloody lips. "Lamia", and he grabbed the woman by the wrist.

 Seconds before, the female mage had been unconscious and very close to death.  Now, she was jerking spasmodically in the evil man's grasp with her back arched nearly to the breaking point, and writhing in supreme agony. From her mouth issued forth the most blood curdling scream that had ever been heard by any of the heroes, and the hair stood straight up on the backs of every one of their necks.  They watched in horror as the woman's eyes sank back into her skull, and her lips and gums receded from her gaping mouth to expose her blood red teeth.  The skin on her face and arms shriveled like aged parchment.  It became taught and brittle, and finally cracked apart to reveal her yellowed bones and sinew beneath.  The terrifying scream became a strangled shriek before it was choked off completely, and the woman crumbled to ash.

 The dark mage shook the dust from his hand, and he rose to face the group. His wounds had healed into jagged white scars that stood out in stark contrast to his black robes.  When he began muttering the arcane words of another presumably dangerous incantation, Tyris was shaken from her horrified stupor and immediately launched a spell of her own. "Succendo," she cried, and she hurled a flaming sphere straight towards her foe.  The fully rejuvenated mage stepped nimbly aside and the sphere rolled past him to detonate harmlessly in the corner.

The companions sprung into action.  Tonan moved in on the mage with his twin swords whirling in a dance that was dazzling to behold.  Once he stepped within range, the half-elven ranger snapped his wrists outward and thrust both blades in towards his dangerous foe.  With his black robes flowing behind him, the wizard side-stepped the attack and escaped without a scratch.  The man's smug grin widened as his sharp eyes caught movement in the dark corner behind Tonan.

"Look out," yelled Tyris, just as a third attacker emerged from the shadows with a dagger aimed at Tonan's throat!  The ranger spun to his left, and with a single swipe of his longsword he managed to turn his attacker's blade aside.  He turned to face this new threat that appeared, at first glance, to be another female mage.  Tonan did a double take, however, when he realized that she had two short, spiraled horns protruding from her skull and a long, sinuous tail emerging from the rear of her tight, ochre colored dress.

Valeria was markedly alarmed that Tonan had turned his back on an adversary as powerful as the man in black, and she stepped forward to intervene.  The young wizard pulled a tiny candle from her pouch, and she pointed the unlit tip towards the floor between her friend and the evil mage.  "Voco prodigium," she chanted, and a tiny burst of flame shot forth from the candle and struck the ground right where she had been aiming.  The air seemed to shimmer for a split second, and suddenly an insect-like warrior stood in their midst.  

The armored creature instantly drew forth a double-tipped javelin from its back and raked it across the evil mage's stomach.  The dark man's eyes widened in surprise just before he doubled over from the searing pain of the deadly weapon tearing through his vital organs.

The evil man's scream of pain echoing across the basement had an odd effect as it mingled with a desperate cry of frustration from above.  Gann Tolar and Willow were both engaged in mortal combat with the mill wheel.  The druid had finally gotten her legs underneath her body, and she was now running in circles around the grinding stone while attempting to cut herself loose.  She was forced to duck repeatedly as Gann reigned blow after blow upon the grease trap with his holy Truncheon of Truth.  With every swing, the cleric bellowed in rage, and Willow shouted over and over for him to "Shut up and be careful with that thing!"

Back in the basement, Tas and Endora sought to eliminate their newest adversary swiftly and efficiently.  The halfing rogue fired a bolt into the plane-touched wizard's gut as the paladin charged in with her longsword.  Endora's vicious swing nearly severed her enemy's left arm, and an additional quick thrust of Tonan's deadly blade was enough to bring the woman to the ground.

All five heroes now turned to face the dreaded man in black.  The scarred and twisted figure pulled a bloody hand away from his horrid stomach wound and placed it upon the antlike formian warrior that had been summoned by Valeria.  "Imperium," he growled, and he pointed a gnarled finger towards Tonan.

The summoned creature whirled his javelin around with dizzying speed and opened a gash across Tonan's waist before the he had a chance to react.  The ranger clutched his side and stumbled out of harm's way just as Tyris unleashed another flaming sphere at the wounded mage.  Incredibly, the evil man once again was able to leap out of the way and avoid taking any damage from the powerful spell.

Endora stepped forward and attempted to dispel the dark mage's control over the formian warrior, but it was too late.  The duration of Valeria's summoning spell ended and the creature vanished, back to its own realm of existence.

Furious that the evil mage had used her own spell to harm her friend, Valeria charged in and wrapped her hands around the man's throat.  "Aduro," she wailed, and her hands became as flame.  The mage screamed as the smell of charred flesh filled the cavernous cellar.  The circle of friends gathered silently around Valeria as she continued to throttle the wretched man in her scorching grasp.  With a final cry of rage, the young woman pushed the man away and kicked him back into the wall.

Tas fired a single bolt through the heart of the black robed man and he slumped to the floor, dead at last.

The group let out a collective sigh of relief, and then they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.  Once again, spells were readied in an instant, swords were raised and the heroes turned as one to face the new danger.

There, at the bottom of the stairs, stood Gann Tolar, vengeful cleric of St. Cuthbert.  He was covered from hair to boot in thick, sweat-clumped wads of sticky flour.  His clerical garb dangled loosely from his left shoulder, exposing his chain tunic underneath.  Willow sat on the steps behind him with a tired expression on her face.

"I told you the flour in this town was evil," Gann said between clenched teeth.  "But fear not, my friends."  The righteous cleric strained to stand up straight and tall, and he raised his mighty Truncheon of Truth as if in salute to a fallen enemy.  "Myself and the noble druid have smote the wicked device of its creation!"


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## Jodo Kast (Jul 18, 2002)

Great update!  The scene with Tas getting shot in the rump was just hilarious!  And the scene where the man in black sapped the lifeforce from his dying companion to strengthen himself was appropriately spooky.  The parts about Gann and the mill wheel ... well, I'd prefer to forget that whole episode.  I think you've created a Don Quixote figure.  I picture Gann charging mills with a lance now, loudly proclaiming to all within earshot the evil of flour power.


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## Malessa (Jul 18, 2002)

Good story honey!!!  I really love how you've brought the spell casters to life.  Tas getting shot was great.....Course it's nice to know what exactly happened down stairs since all I got to see was GANN AND THE FLOUR MILL!!

 
Um....Gann, if your character reminds you of a cross between Bruce Cambel and Don Quixote, does this mean poor Willow is a Flour Puff Girl  trying to save your arse? EEEK.....Lets hope not!


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jul 18, 2002)

Yup. This continues to be one of the best characterised Story Hours out there... you can't help but begin to know and empathise with the characters, especially that guy Bruce... uh... I mean Gann. 

Loved the description of the evil mage spell... what was that? Death Knell?

Spider.


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## cthuluftaghn (Jul 20, 2002)

It was indeed _death knell._  Good call!  And thanks for the interest and the praise 

By the way... I posted a compliment on your thread just now, but didn't realize my wife was logged in.   The note from Malessa is, in fact, me (in disguise!)  

For those of you that never make it over to the art gallery... here are the custom drawings of our characters.  They were done by my wife.  Some in color... some just pencil sketches.  The only one missing is Tas:
Willow 
Tyris 
Gann 
Valeria 
Tonan 
Davok 
Endora

I also have quite a few pictures that she's done of some of the people, places, and critters that we've met along the way.  (In fact, I've actually done a couple myself!).  If anyone expresses interest, I'll post those links here as well.


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jul 30, 2002)

Ker-BUMP

Hope you guys have more of this to post. 
Don't leave all us readers hanging like this... story hour withdrawal is a truly terrible thing to behold. Don't let it happen!

Spider.


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## cthuluftaghn (Aug 9, 2002)

*Session II: Chapter 8 - Regrouping*

Sorry for the delay, Spider and company... I was on vacation.

28 Growfest, Night:

After helping Gann and Willow to get cleaned off, the party conducted a thorough search of the mill’s basement.  In the unlit northeast corner, five sleeping pallets were laid out in a neat row.  A stack of clean plates and a barrel of drinking water sat nearby, along with a crate of carefully preserved foodstuffs.  It was apparent that the cultists had been using the mill as a base of operation for several days, at least.  Oddly, however, there were no personal belongings to be found anywhere, except on the bodies.

“Look at this,” announced Gann as he pulled a rolled parchment from the pocket of the deceased man in black.  “It’s a letter.  Perhaps it will afford us some clue as to what foul forces we are up against.”  The cleric unrolled the letter and read it out loud to the group.

_“Master Dunrat,

Praise the Lord of Decay!

Proceed to the ruined moathouse outside of Hommlet and recover what artifacts you can from The Pit. Take with you only those whom can be trusted with this sacred duty. Walk in shadow, for while much of Hommlet have become complacent there are those who are ever wary for signs of trouble. Secure in secret a base of operation in Hommlet and keep prying eyes away from the moathouse.

When you have finished with the excavation you must seal The Pit and then return the artifacts to the Temple of All-Consumption. A wagon can be obtained from Tal Chammish in Rastor to haul whatever you find back to the crater.

Do not fail me.

Blessed Destruction!

Naquent”
_
“Dunrat! My greatest enemy lies dead at my feet!!” roared Gann, grinning from ear to ear, red-faced and quivering.  He suddenly slumped and said more softly… almost timidly, “And yet he was not cut down by mine own evil-smiting hand?”  The look on the cleric’s face was an impossible amalgam of jubilation, righteous rage, and bitter disappointment.  His friends couldn’t decide if he was about to laugh hysterically, or burst into tears.  Tas chuckled.

“And what do you seem to think is so funny about this?” Gann inquired of the rogue.  Tas bit his lip to stifle his laughter, and he stared meaningfully down at the corpse at the cleric’s feet.  Gann followed his gaze, and suddenly he understood.  The short, black shaft of an assassin’s crossbow bolt protruded from the dead man’s chest.  Gann almost stopped breathing.  “The… the halfling?” he managed to croak.  “The thief delivered the killing blow?  Tas killed Dunrat?!”  

The cleric wrenched the heavy war mace from his belt and squared off to face Tas.  The fiery look in his eyes was frightening to behold.  A throaty growl escaped from Gann’s lips that, to the startled band of heroes, sounded an awful lot like “murder.”  Even the cocky rogue was stunned into silence.  For a long, tense moment, everyone was certain that Gann was about to unleash the fury of his Truncheon of Truth upon the halfing.  Valeria broke the silence…

“The outlander… she’s alive!” Val announced loudly, eyeballing Gann with a worried expression.  The group moved with urgency to gather around the defeated cultist, and Tas took advantage of the opportunity to slither out of the angry cleric’s reach.

Tonan drew his sword and approached the strange woman.  She moaned softly and coughed up a bit of blood as he stood over her.  “It seems my blade did not cut deeply enough,” grumbled the ranger.  He touched the tip of his sword to the woman’s throat, and her eyelids trembled but did not open.  “Should I finish her off?”

“She’s a tiefling!” Gann announced in awe, and he approached to kneel beside the mortally wounded magic user.  He casually pushed Tonan’s sword away, eliciting a scowl from the muscular elf.  “She’s plane-touched… not of this world.  She may be able to provide us with a wealth of information if she does not die.  Does anyone have something with which to bind her?”

Valeria produced a pair of iron shackles from her pack and stepped forth.  This caused Tonan to raise an eyebrow, ever so slightly.  He blushed and turned away.  Val bent over and rolled the fallen wizard on to her side, and she roughly bound the woman’s wrists behind her back.  She moved with speed and precision, as if she’d done this before.  The troubled hero wrinkled her nose and kept her head slightly averted; as if she was loathe to touch the evil creature.  

Tyris and Willow moved towards the stairs. They hadn’t agreed to this course of action, and they were not sure that they approved.  “She and her crazy friends tried to kill us without hesitation,” complained Willow.  “I think Tonan should cut her throat and be done with it.”

Gann Tolar, who occasionally shows signs of being somewhat arrogant and single-minded, ignored the druid and laid his hands upon the dying tiefling.  Closing his eyes, the cleric called upon the healing powers of St. Cuthbert to bring the woman back from the brink of death.  Gann smiled slightly as he felt the divine presence of his deity move through his body, and into injured wizard.  The woman’s body glowed briefly with a warm, soft luminescence.  Her shallow, raspy breath settled into a strong and steady rhythm as the light faded, and she opened her eyes.

In an instant, the insane cultist was on her feet and lunging towards Gann in a display of agility that was quite unexpected from one who had her hands shackled behind her back.  The cleric grabbed the woman by her shoulders, spun her around, and pinned her against the wall.  The rest of the party drew their weapons and backed off a pace or two when the wizard started gnashing her teeth and snarling like a deranged beast.  Gann Tolar was in no mood to put up with this kind of behavior.  When the woman spit in his face, the angry cleric reached his breaking point and he slammed her head hard against the stone wall.  The woman ceased her thrashing and stared evilly into Gann’s eyes with a hellish grin.

“What is going on here?” Gann yelled at her face.  “Who are you people, and what evil have you thrust upon this peaceful town?”

The woman shut her mouth into a tight-lipped smile and released a throaty chuckle.  She flared her nostrils in defiance, and said nothing.

Gann pressed a hand firmly against the evil wizard’s throat and raised his heavy mace with his free arm.  “I’m warning you, women… tell us what is happening in this town, and at the Moathouse… or, by the Cudgel, I shall smite thee!”

The tiefling’s eyes widened slightly, and her complexion paled visibly.  She seemed to be in some kind of distress.  The woman’s eyes began to water as she fixed her devilish gaze once again on Gann.  The wizard grinned wickedly, and blood spilled from the corners of her mouth.  Turning her head to one side, the woman spat a chunk of bloody flesh onto the dirt floor.

Tyris gasped in horror, “It’s her tongue!  She bit off her own tongue!”

Gann recoiled as the wizard cackled loudly, her mouth and bloody chin glaring red in the dim lamplight of the cellar.  She slumped back against the wall, weak and sick from the pain of what she had done.  The cleric stared in disgust, noting that the look of twisted pleasure never left the insane cultist’s face.

The companions argued briefly over what to do with the woman, and it was finally decided that she should be turned over to the militia.  Gann wrapped his hand around the back of the bleeding woman’s neck, and shoved her roughly towards the stairs.  Although she continued to grin smugly, the evil wizard was too weak to put up any kind of resistance.  “Up you go,” ordered Gann.  “Give us any trouble, and you’ll be making a swift journey to whatever dark underworld spawned your evil soul.”

Tonan charged up the stairs in front of Gann and the wizard, and the rest of the party followed behind.  They were weary and badly shaken from their violent encounter, and every one of them was anxious to offload their prisoner and get back to the inn.  As they walked past the inert body of Themock, however, Gann noted that the foreman was laying face-down on the floor.  “I thought I propped him against the wall?” the cleric wondered aloud.

Tyris knelt beside the fallen man and gently placed her hand on his back.  “He’s breathing!” she exclaimed.  The sorceress rolled Themock onto his side and tilted his head back as Valeria lifted a healing potion to his lips.  The big man winced and sipped gingerly at the green liquid.  The potion dribbled down the mill worker’s chin, and it formed a sticky paste as it blended with the flour that covered his face.  Themock spat out a mouthful of the nasty mixture, and he sat up on his own strength.  He took the vial from Val and quaffed the rest of the potion with a single, giant gulp.

Gann barely gave the poor fellow time to swallow before assaulting him with questions.  “Why didn’t you warn us of the ambush?  Are you in league with the evil ones?  What have you done with the millers?”

The color returned swiftly to Themock’s face as the magical potion coursed through his body.  The foreman stood and backed away from Gann, visibly upset.  “I’m so sorry,” the big man said with a shaky voice, on the verge of tears.  “They said they was gonna kill me, and my family.  There was nothing I could do!  Please, just let me go home to my wife.  I’ve been through enough.”

“You may go home, sir.  But please, help us first by telling us what happened here,” Endora pleaded.  “What happened to Mandy and Karlun Fies?”

Themock bowed his head, and then the tears did come.  “Dead.  They’re both dead.  The poor, dear couple… it was horrible.”  Valeria’s knees buckled and she buried her face in Tonan’s chest.  The stoic ranger held her tightly, his eyes boiling with unconcealed hatred and rage over the fate of his friends.

The heartbroken foreman continued, “These people showed up ‘bout two weeks ago, claiming to be old friends.  None of us know’d ‘em, but Karlun seemed to take kindly to them from the git-go, so we didna put up a fuss.  They stayed down in the cella and was no problem.  Even helped out up heeya in the mill on mo’ than one occasion.  Then it all went ta hell a couple days back when that man in black showed up.  ‘Master’ they called him.  The bastid cast some kinda spell on us all so’s we couldna move, and he slit poor Mandy’s throat as we watched.  No reason or nuthin’.”

Tears welled up in Valeria’s eyes, and even the mighty Tonan turned his face away to hide his emotion at the news.

Themock continued.  “I think Karlun died on the inside right there and then.  Woulda been betta fo him if he had died from ‘is broken heart… to save ‘im from what happened next.  That crazy black-robed sonofabitch pulled out this curved blade and pointed it at each of us… Karlun, the workers an’ me… Then he… he told me to keep the mill runnin’ day and night.  He said to keep the folks away, and not say nuthin’ concernin’ their presence heeya.  He said I betta not betray him, or my family an’ me would share Karlun’s fate.  And then…”  The burly foreman shuddered and covered his eyes, struggling to go on.  “And then he took that knife… he took it to Karlun’s throat like he was gonna cut it.  Merciful Pelor, I wish he had cut ‘im and ended it there… but he didna do it.  Nossuh.  The ‘Master’ took that wicked knife and skinned the miller slow.  I dunno why nobody came fer all the screamin’ that night.  Made it last for whut seemed hours while we stood froze there.  I cain’t never forget that… nossuh, I cain’t.  When it was over, the dark man’s goons dumped the bodies in the river back yonder.  We been heeya workin’ the mill outta fear ever since as they come and go’d.”

The heroes were silent, and the foreman stared at Gann with pleading eyes.  “Can I go now, suh?  I ain’t seen my family in days.  It’s a long walk, and I reckon I’d love to be holdin’ my dear wife in my arms by first light.”  Grim-faced, Gann didn’t reply.

“Go,” ordered Tonan in a strangled voice.  “Go home, Themock.”  The man bowed briefly and shuffled out the door without another word.  As soon as he hit the fresh night air, Willow and Tyris saw him quicken his pace and he practically sprinted up the road, and away from that place of death.


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Aug 9, 2002)

Great update, as usual.

Gann Tolar is now officially played by Bruce Campbell. I honestly can't shake the image. Especially when he goes round spouting wonderful lines like, "... or, by the Cudgel, I shall smite thee!". 

Looking forward to the next post. Hope you had a good time on holiday.

Spider.


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## Malessa (Aug 16, 2002)

*bump*


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## cthuluftaghn (Aug 22, 2002)

*Chapter 9 is coming... really*

Hey folks.  Sorry again for yet another delay in publishing.  I'm working on Chapter 9 now... honest!  Been a bit busy with family and work stuff... especially now that the fall semester has started.  I'll try to post w/ in the next couple days.


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 27, 2002)

Gann Tolar says: "Post an update quickly or face my wrath, wicked DM!"


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## Malessa (Aug 29, 2002)

I second the notion!!


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## Malessa (Aug 29, 2002)

The clouds part and a booming voice from the heavens speaks... "Your impatience has become your undoing, unfaithful one".

The divine cudgel of St. Cuthbert descends from the sky and squashes Gann Tolar like a grape.

The End.




But seriously.... I am close to the end of the next chapter.  It's just that it is a LONG chapter to write.  I would have made more progress in the past 2 days if a certain son of mine hadn't taken a nose dive into the marble window sill... the resulting wailing, gnashing of teeth, ambulances, and x-rays put a definite damper on my writing time.

[edit]ARRRGH... I have NO idea why I'm logged in as Malessa here at work, but it's me... cthuluftaghn.[/edit]


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## cthuluftaghn (Aug 29, 2002)

*Oops...*

See above....


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## cthuluftaghn (Aug 30, 2002)

*Session II: Chapter 9 - Revelations, Part I*

Here is the beginning of chapter 9.  After this post, the combat action picks up again.  Big time.  Big BIG time.  Session III was 8 straight hours of combat.  That'll make for some interesting chapters.

Chapter Nine – Revelations

1 Growfest, Midnight:

Once the grieving miller had departed, the band of heroes quickly gathered their things and left the building.  They were all quite anxious to unload their prisoner and get a good night’s sleep.  After a brief discussion, they decided that the best place to find a town watchman was at the keep near the southern entrance to Hommlet.

Upon arriving at the locked gate of the newly built fortress, Tonan let out a hearty “Halloooo!”  It became obvious after several minutes that no response was forthcoming, so Endora began banging her sword against the iron bars of the portcullis while the others shouted for attention.  This went on for a minute or two before a light appeared through the cracks of the large door across the courtyard.

The group ceased their ruckus and waited.  The clank and clatter of locks and bolts being undone echoed across the yard, along with the distinct sound of grumbling and complaining.  Eventually, the large wooden door swung open and an odd figure emerged.  A hunched and aged human male hobbled across the flagstones carrying a wildly swinging lantern.  The man had a long, gray beard that nearly scraped against the stony earth as he clumsily made his way towards the gate.  The fellow was dressed in a gaudy purple nightgown that was decorated with an eyesore pattern of sparkling silver crescent moons and stars.  His matching drooped and pointy cap came complete with a starburst poof at the tip.  More shocking than his appearance, however, was the fluent string of obscenities that flew from the elderly man’s mouth.  Clearly, he was not pleased at being awaken.

“What do you want?” he bellowed at Tonan with a curled upper lip.  “I’m a hero in these parts, you know, and I deserve much better treatment than this.  I’ll see you all in the stockades if this isn’t of the utmost importance!”  Without giving anyone a chance to respond he continued, “Well?  I asked a question.  Don’t waste my time, now.  Most people are smart enough not to incur the wrath of a powerful wizard!  What do you want?”

The party had been expecting to speak with an officer of the town militia, not a crotchety old arcanist.  Gann immediately launched into a greatly embellished explanation of the plague of evil that was consuming Hommlet, while the others occasionally interjected with tidbits of reality.  When the cleric was finished, Tonan pushed the captive tiefling against the bars and demanded that she be thrown in the dungeon.

The old wizard listened quietly, and appeared to consider the tale for a moment before responding.  Suddenly, he furrowed his brow, pursed his lips and he practically spat out his answer.  “Bah!” he roared.  “Kill the woman, I’ve no need for prisoners.  Get yourselves gone and don’t worry yourselves with such things… and certainly don’t bother me with them.  Burne’s Badgers have the affairs of Hommlet well under control.  Now leave me alone so I can get some sleep!”  The man then pivoted on one heal and marched back towards the door from which he had emerged.

“Wait,” cried Tyris.  “What’s a Burne’s Badger?”

The man stopped in his tracks and turned to face the sorceress with a clear look of exasperation.  “You’d think the town hero would garner much more respect.  I, of course, am Burne… as if you didn’t know.  And my Badgers are the fine men and women of the militia.  NOW GO AWAY!”  With that, Burne re-entered the keep and slammed the massive wooden door shut.

“Now what did you go and do that for?” said an angry sounding voice.  The group turned to see Elmo, captain of the militia, emerging from the darkness.  “All you have to do is stand in one place for five minutes in this town, and a guardsman is sure to pass you by.  What made you think you had the right to go bothering old Burne and Rufus?  I’ll no doubt be getting an earful come morning, thanks to the lot of you!”

“Ah,” Gann approached the seasoned warrior.  “Good sir Elmo, I’m so glad…”

“Well ye shouldn’t be glad!” Elmo interjected a bit too loudly.  “By the gods, son, you of all people should understand and respect the chain of command and authority.  He of the Cudgel is, after all, the epitome of righteousness, justice and order.”  

“Now listen here,” Gann erupted.  “By the blessed power of my righteous hand have I smited the evil that infests this place that you claim to protect.  I demand that my companions and I be heard, and that this prisoner be delivered unto justice!”

The captain shook his head and pointed at Gann.  “Ye need to learn your place and your purpose, and stick to it.  The militia is here to handle criminal affairs in this town.  It’s not the place of visitors to go stir up trouble and then wake the magistrates at home to bail them out of it!  You have a problem, you come to me, and I’ll have it handled right and proper.  If you want to smite evil, run off to the wilds and find yourself a nice dragon to do battle with.  I suggest from now on, however, you hold your blessed righteous hand while in civilized lands before you find yourself behind bars for vigilantism, or worse.  Understood!?”

After his speech, Elmo grabbed the tiefling wizard roughly by the manacles and shoved her forward.  “Off you go, now,” he roared.  “Let’s at least get you taken care of, so this little town can get some sleep.”  With that, he stalked off into the night.

“What was that all about?” asked Endora, to nobody in particular.

“I don’t know,” Willow offered.  “I thought we were doing a good thing here.  Gann?  Why did he single you out?”

The wounded cleric just stood there, red faced and silent.  He would not admit to the druid that the old man was right.  He had jumped the chain of command and acted inappropriately in the face of authority.  Penance and retribution was in order. 

“Gosh,” Tas chimed in.  “I guess Gann really pimrrrmmph…”

The halfing’s snide comment was cut short by Endora’s hand, which was suddenly clamped firmly over his mouth.  “Mrrmmmph  mmmff rrrrphmmph!” he complained, but to no avail.  The muscular paladin was determined to prevent the pint sized troublemaker from rekindling the fury of Gann Tolar.

Tonan started off towards the Inn of the Welcome Wench with Thor at his side.  “Good night, everyone.  I’ve had enough of this place for one day.  I hope the morning will find you all well.”

The others started to follow the tired ranger when Elmo suddenly reappeared.  “Hold,” he said firmly, but rather dejectedly.  Gone were the angry creases on his brow, and the redness in his cheeks.  The captain bore a careworn expression on his face, and he hung his head low as he approached the party.  Placing a hand on Gann’s shoulder, Elmo shook his head.  “I’m sorry for my harsh words of a moment ago.  Can you forgive me?”

The heroes looked at each other, not exactly sure how to react.  Gann did not move or speak, but he stared at the older man’s hand as if it were a foul thing.  The righteous cleric scowled at this man who, just moments before, was boldly preaching justice and order, and who was now publicly displaying his weakness and lack of conviction.  “Pathetic,” he thought to himself.

“You see,” explained the warrior, “I know what it is that you are up against, and I fear it is beyond any of you.  I spoke with anger in the hopes of driving you away that I might protect you.  The simple truth, however, is one that is difficult to admit.”  Elmo swallowed hard and stared into the eyes of each of the heroes, in turn.  “I need you.”

“What are you talking about?” balked Gann.  “I thought Elmo and Burne’s mighty Badgers had everything well under control, and vigilantes like us were not welcome?”

An authoritative tone swiftly returned to Elmo’s voice.  “In more peaceful times, those words hold true, cleric of St. Cuthbert.  And don’t ye forget that.  But these aren’t peaceful times, I’m afraid.  It seems Fate has let loose the dogs of war upon poor Hommlet once again.  I have my hands full with this festival, and the increased population that comes with it.  I can’t spare any men to go gallivanting off to the moathouse to cleanse it of the possible threat of evil.”

“Indeed,” announced Tas importantly.  “Not just one evil force threatens you here.  At least two factions have joined forces against you!  For them, the battle has already begun, and Hommlet has been caught unaware.”

Everyone stared at the halfling.  Endora, in particular, had never heard such serious (and ominous) words issue forth from the rogue’s typically bitter and sarcastic mouth.  

Tas shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “So,” he continued with a wry grin.  “I got this off an evil guy I killed in the mill while St. Cuthbert here was playing merry-go-round with the druid.  What do you make of it?”  The halfling extended his arm to Elmo and presented him with an amulet, carved from pitch-black soapstone into the shape of an inverted ziggurat.  As the captain of the militia took the pendant, his face paled visibly… and Gann’s face reddened alarmingly.

“By the gods,” muttered Elmo.  “It is worse than I have feared.”
The tiefling prisoner cackled and spat blood at the sight of the pendant.  Her eyes rolled in her head, and she hissed through bloodstained teeth.  The companions tensed and put their hands on their weapons, but the manacles held tight.  The evil wizard grinned and writhed in horrid ecstasy at their alarmed expressions.

Elmo handed the amulet back to Tas.  “When the forces of the Temple of Elemental Evil rose against Hommlet fifteen years ago, it was almost more than we could handle.  Many good men…” the warrior paused as he relived a painful memory, “…very good men and women died in the fight to drive them back.  At that time, our enemy was a fanatical cult of lunatics, hell bent on unleashing their deity upon the lands of Greyhawk.  As you can see, my friends, the cult has returned… and it seems that they have come back with a thing much more foul in their midst than our humble militia is prepared to defend against.  More than a decade ago, we fought an army of crazy men and beasts.  I fear that this time we are fighting an evil, and quite insane deity of the lower planes.  Our enemy is a god.”


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## cthuluftaghn (Aug 31, 2002)

*Sneak Preview*

I promised action real soon.  Here's a taste of what's to come.  This is a color pic that my wife did of one of our most recent encounters...  Tonan really stepped in it!


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## Jodo Kast (Aug 31, 2002)

Great update, and awesome portrait of Tonan and Thor against the grell.  Looking forward to Monday's session, when I once more set aside the humble role of attorney/DM/story hour hack and resume the mantle of Gann Tolar, enemy to all things evil.


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## Malessa (Aug 31, 2002)

Jodo Kast said:
			
		

> *Great update, and awesome portrait of Tonan and Thor against the grell.  Looking forward to Monday's session, when I once more set aside the humble role of attorney/DM/story hour hack and resume the mantle of Gann Tolar, enemy to all things evil. *




Next pic, I think, will be of mighty Gann against the possessed mill wheel......

Can't wait til Monday to see what else we get ourselves into!
I don't want to give to much away, but Willow might be starting to have some serious issues.....


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## Thorntangle (Sep 4, 2002)

Great Story Hour! I just got caught up and I really like your writing style and the characters.

Looks like they're going back to the moathouse. Can't wait to see what choices they make.


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## cthuluftaghn (Sep 6, 2002)

Thank you, Thorntangle.  I've been slacking on my Story Hour writing lately.  I've been working on another, super-secret d20 project, as well as giving my web site a complete facelift.  I'll try to get some more done soon.


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## madriel (Sep 6, 2002)

I stayed up all night reading this for the first time.

Curse you!  Curse you all for being so entertaining!


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## Thorntangle (Sep 6, 2002)

cthuluftaghn said:
			
		

> *I've been working on another, super-secret d20 project, as well as giving my web site a complete facelift.  I'll try to get some more done soon. *



New project? Sounds interesting. The website looks great but I still can't see any of the character art. When I try to insert the URL manually I get an "unknown host" error message both at work and home.


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## cthuluftaghn (Sep 6, 2002)

Oops... I forgot, when I moved the pictures to Malessa's gallery, I didn't change the URL's on the character page.  I'll fix it after work tonight.  For now, at least you can see all of the character pics on Malessa's art gallery.  Thanks for pointing that out!


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## cthuluftaghn (Sep 7, 2002)

Fixed


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Sep 12, 2002)

Hey cthuluftaghn, thought I'd say hi. Haven't replied in a while, but still with the story.

What's that noise?

_bump_


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## cthuluftaghn (Sep 15, 2002)

Thanks Spider.  I've been neglecting my story hour quite a bit, lately, I know.  Sorry... check out my site, and you'll see why.

Not forgotten, though.  I do work on it... a sentence here... a sentence there.... between annoying support calls at work.  It's slow going, but at least it's going.


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## Thorntangle (Sep 20, 2002)

Er... Bump?


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## Malessa (Oct 18, 2002)

You hear that? 

*bump*


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## Esiminar (Nov 7, 2002)

*Poke poke* I hope it's not dead


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## cthuluftaghn (Nov 8, 2002)

Not completely dead.  Just in college and changed hours at work... TEMPORARILY.  Just mostly dead for now.  Try to pick up again around Christmas.


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