# The Runic Storyhour: An Oriental Adventure in The Dream



## Rune (Jan 15, 2002)

Welcome to the new boards, everybody!  This is to be a continuation of the old storyhour formerly called, "The Runic Storyhour: An Oriental Adventure With a Twist."  I will be posting each previous session one at a time (one per day) until we are caught up.  All previous feedback should be available for viewing on the old boards.  Here's the link to the old story on the old boards:

The Runic Storyhour: An Oriental Adventure With a Twist.

Hope to see ya around the new boards!


----------



## Rune (Jan 16, 2002)

Following is the first installment of a campaign setting which has been in various stages of development for several years. It's not your usual setting, and to add an exotic flavor, I have decided to run the setting using the Oriental Adventures rules (with the core PC races available, but rare). My intent is not to accurately recreate any part of Asian myth, culture, folklore, or history. I hope that my campaign setting will remind the players (and anyone reading this storyhour) as much of India and Nepal as of China and Japan (for example). Furthermore, *this story hour will be written by one of my players and edited by me*. I will rarely, if ever, write the story hour, though I will be the one to post them.

*The world:* Ah yes, the world...

It is flat, but not really.

There is no sun; there are no stars, nor moons. Day and night do exist, however.

There is seasonal change (how could we have haiku without it?), but that change is sporadic.

Reality shifts are not uncommon, and even mortals within the world may trigger them.

And there is only one god(dess), but there are a great many interpretations of who and what (s)he is. This is, in part, because the alignment of the deity changes with some degree of regularity.

And since we speak of that deity, we shall now refer to that god(dess) by the name that all mortals know, The Dreamer; for all of existence is The Dream. And I mean that literally.

*The Physics:*
There is land, and above land, the sky; above the sky, the ocean. On a clear day, you can see the largest ships sailing for destinations unknown (upside down, of course) far above you. More oddities in the landscape later.

Physics are more or less normal, but certain things can happen to alter the state of reality, namely the...

*Reality Shifts:*
These are triggered at certain times within the REM cycle of The Dreamer, and, much more commonly, through the use of magicks, and psionic manifestations. Even more commonly, certain events trigger reality shifts, such as birth and death. More on this later in the campaign.

*The Role of Society:*
Understandably, I have decided to emphasize the importance of Family, Caste, and Honor in this campaign. So how do such lawful societies fit into such a chaotic world? War, how else? Does this mean that the game will be set in wartime? You bet.

Watch this space for additional campaign setting information!


----------



## Rune (Jan 16, 2002)

First, a word about naming conventions:

The male name is constructed with an Adjective, followed by a Noun, and then a Verb. This puts the emphasis on who the person is.

The female name is a Noun, followed by an Adverb, and then a Verb, which emphasizes what the person does.

The Noun is the family name, passed on through the generations. These names stay within the gender. The daughter will get her family name from the mother and the son from the father. There are no family names that are shared between the genders.

*The characters:*

*Swift Serpent Strikes (Rogue1/Fighter1)* is a lower-caste human, who, although he despises nobility and all that it represents, is not such a fool to openly criticize it, or its members. He has so far been content not to attract too much attention. He may have good reasons for this, but, if so, they are his secrets to tell--or not to.

*Fighting Man Dances (Monk1/Sorceror1)* is one of the little folk, a halfling, whom humans view as miniature humans; children playing at being grown-up. Like all halflings, he is neither lower-caste, nor noble in the human world. In halfling society, however, he is a member of one of the higher social orders, (which are, in turn, modeled after the Societies of the humans; more on the societies later). It is not, however, a halfling's world, and he will always be looked down upon.

*Intelligent Chameleon Survives (Rogue1/Sorceror1)* is a human of the lower-caste who, unlike Swift, does not despise the noble caste. A bit of a megalomaniac, he, in fact, aspires to be one of the noble caste. Furthermore, he sees himself as an equal or better of most (all?) nobles. Despite such an eccentricity, or perhaps because of it, he is a natural leader on the battlefield and off of it. He is very likeable, and truly a tactical thinker.

*Ocean Deeply Sleeps (Rogue1/Fighter1)*, the only female of the group, is a soft-spoken human (also of the lower-caste) so far content to observe her surroundings and stay in the background. It is not inconceivable, however, that she has grand ambitions and is biding her time, waiting for the time that destiny has chosen for her to act upon them.

*Other People (in the order of their appearance):*

*Grinning Tiger Rules (Session 1)* is a noble of one of the most prominent family lines. Not much is yet known about the noble, except that he is considered to be (by the party, at least) a tactical idiot on the battlefield. Too bad he's in charge...

*Night Softly Calls (Session 3)* is the commander of the guard in Silver City. Not much is known about her, but it is known that she wields a three-section-staff, and a great deal of authority within the city.

*Mad Stone Tumbles (Session 3)* was the Governor of Silver City until his untimely demise by what may have been assassins, or maybe something else. He was a very crazy man.

*Laughing Monkey Rules (Session 3)* is the current governor of the Silver City. He was a rival of Mad Stone Tumbles.

*Dragon Silently Hunts (Session 3)* is the matron of House Dragon. She is easily the most powerful individual in the city, barring, perhaps, the Governor and the head of one of the most powerful families in the Empire.

*Exalted Temple Stands (Session 5)* is the EMPEROR. He is roughly 10 years old when encountered in Session 5.


----------



## Rune (Jan 16, 2002)

*Act I: Art
Year 3145*

_Tiger in soft snow
hunting the silver forests
that which is worth most._

Session 1, part 1:

Today, it is harvest time; tomorrow, who knows? The seasons change with every new day, here. That is the way things are.

At the Rice Cake Festival, as we did last year, the four of us meet strolling through the grounds, smelling the sweet rice from all sections of the town. First, I come upon Swift and we greet, intoxicated by our own hunger and the smell of food. Further on the halfling joins us, and the Chameleon. The four of us are acquaintances and not more. Some mother gives the halfling a paper lantern, and we laugh; however much halflings hope to prove they are adults, they are always mistaken for children. There are rumors of war surfacing in the conversations around us but nothing really precise or grounded enough to distract us. Today is a festival. We have just begun to walk among the food vendors and select what might appease our appetites, when we notice a nobleman, well mounted, follows us through the crowd as we discuss the possibility of conscription should war be eminent. But we are a long way from war on this day in this joyful street, just in reach of everything we need and why we are followed by the nobleman, I do not know. We will learn, however, that his concern is not of war drums. The nobleman approaches. He wears a wakazashi, but no katana. We bow, but not too deeply. He grits his teeth at our insincere welcome; in truth no one of us relishes bowing to any man. He carries a bundle large enough that it could conceal a katana, although we have few ideas why he would conceal one.

Our story begins with this nobleman and this phrase: "I need fighters." 
"I will pay you handsomely."
"How handsomely," we ask? "And for what purpose?"
"I was purging the kingdom of nightmares," he explains, "and alone when I rode upon a concealed encampment of bakemono and lost something that is very dear to me. I need help in recovering it." (The man had and honest face, I'll give him that.)

_DM note: the author, playing Ocean Deeply Sleeps, decided aloud that the noble, who had introduced himself as Grinning Tiger Rules (an extraordinarily prominent family name), had an honest face, to which I replied: "He does, in fact, have an honest face." I thought it was funny, anyway..._

We have many questions--too many, and we agree that we should think upon it.

_DM note: this was my favorite part of the session: one of the characters, Intelligent Chameleon Survives, asked Tiger what the item was that he was trying to recover. Tiger responded (in my best Samurai Jack voice), "You will not address me again in that manner." This was followed by a moment of total silence from the gaming table—-no intimidation check needed, thankyouverymuch._

The money, 50 Rice-Months each, is more than sufficient, and yet we are not starving by any means and have just begun to join the feasting. Is the call of such riches strong enough to pull us away?

_DM note: a Rice-Month (RM) is the amount of rice needed to feed an individual for one month (90 days or so). It is a paper currency traded by nobles and never really seen by the lower castes, although they certainly see some of the effects of transactions made with the currency. Needless to say, 50RM each is a lot of money._

How near is the place? How many of them are there? Maybe this is some fiendish plot to spoil our honor. Perhaps they are not nightmares at all, but an army we come to fight.

_DM note: there was much discussion at the table of the true nature of the task. The general reaction to the noble was an intense suspicion. The group wondered, naturally, why the noble could not use the help of his followers/servants in the task, but it became pretty clear that he wanted a secret kept. Mercenaries, then, were obviously his best option. Most of the group figured that it was likely (more likely?) to be a rival encampment of humans than bakemono. They determined that they would not proceed with the raid/attack if that was the case._

Of course, to join a nobleman in ridding the landscape of nightmares is no mean cause. It will bring both honor and money. In this way, we end the first part of this tale: After much debate, but not by any means at great depth, we are persuaded to travel north with the noble.


----------



## Rune (Jan 16, 2002)

_DM note: the following section of the campaign log has been edited extensively. I have tried to remain consistent with the author’s writing style (which is, as you probably have noticed, pretty much stream of consciousness)._

Session 1, part 2:

There is little time (we have lost a day already) and we gather what food we can along the way as we head north across the landscape through rolling hills, groves of trees, and endless rice fields. There is no road and the going is slow. With the drifting of the landscape, we are not even sure if we will find the town again when we are finished with this adventure. Usually, however, a town does not drift so far in such a short amount of time; the landscape is like a (usually) calm body of water, and the towns, like driftwood. Already, I have reservations about this adventure. The nobleman rides ahead of us on his beautiful horse, dropping back to watch us on occasion. We walk.

Our nobleman describes the encampment as having sparse trees so that we must move under the cover of darkness toward the four clay mounds upon which the nightmare enemies crouch, watching over the camp. These guards, the noble tells us, will let out piercing screams if they detect us. Bakemono have the intelligence of clever dogs, but the senses of such animals, as well. Inside their encampment there are several mud huts, one larger and set apart from the rest. Inside the large hut, we presume, is the thing which Grinning Tiger Rules has lost and is most precious to him. He draws a plan of attack in the dirt with his wakazashi.

_DM note: "He uses his *wakazashi* for that!?!" the player of Swift Serpent Strikes asked. "My mouth hangs open!" To which I replied: "He apparently thinks nothing of it." Most mysterious…_

How can we get past the mounds to reach the central hut? The bakemono will attack in packs of five, the noble warns us. We try to divert him from entering the hut but he is insistent about retrieving his item himself. We try to develop a less straightforward attack against the camp (there are a score and a half of the nightmare animals in the camp), but Grinning Tiger Rules’ command is iron. We must charge the field with great honor. Our only victory was to convince the noble to let us take out the guard at one corner, before we enter the camp. It is agreed that the halfling will use his magic flaming finger to strike down the creature on the first mound.

_DM note: Fighting Man Dances, the halfling, tells the noble, "I will use my Finger of Blazing Flame: I will not miss!" He didn’t either, as it would turn out, since that spell was a magic missile!_

It is near dusk and we are two miles distant with light enough to see a great mass of elephants passing southward on the western horizon. A gathering of elephants so large can mean one thing only. War it is then, and yet the nobleman shows no concern for it; we are off to hunt creatures, not men, and he will not be diverted. Again, we are assailed by doubt. Is this nothing but a ruse?

_DM note: the players still assumed that the encampment was a human camp, not a camp of bakemono. The author’s character, Ocean Sleeps Deeply, made a successful spot check and saw that the creature on the watch-mound shrouded in the shadow of night was, in fact, a bakemono, but she did not tell the rest of the group for some reason._

I come to know they are, in fact, the creatures we dread. As the halfling creeps forward to strike the sentry, we hear the piercing scream.

_DM note: the sentry was well within range of the magic missile spell, but the halfling wanted a better look, he was still not sure what his foe was._

Immediately the short one reacts. A blinding stream of light flies from his little halfling finger to the torso of the shadowy shape on the mound. The air is filled with sparks as the Dream reacts to the magic being cast. The halfling's first strike is a good hit, and the sentry falls, but our victory is small, as we have been forced by the nobleman to enter from the front instead of making a clandestine attack, as we discussed. Two packs of bakemono come running to rend us. The halfling casts a spell of protection on himself, and, in the resulting reality shift, flowers fall from the sky around him. Chameleon causes another alarm-scream to erupt behind one of the packs with his own magic, and three of their number are diverted. More flashes in the sky in all directions accompany the casting of his little spell. Grinning Tiger Rules charges ahead on his mount, and we fight the bakemono for our lives as best we can. We take the mound, but there are more of the bestial creatures now and they keep coming. Three more packs are upon us (including the bakemono who were diverted by Chameleon, and the halfling is down, shredded by the claws of a whole pack, and bleeding himself into death. The first of the Bakemono we dropped finally looses his life-spirit, and the Dream reacts so violently that we are almost all thrown from the ground. It is as if the ground has become an ocean in a storm. Only Swift has lost his footing, however. Another bakemono is slaughtered while it stands, and a great wind engulfs the entire camp. When another bakemono bleeds his spirit out, twelve spikes of stone shoot into the sky around the body, forming a circle fifty feet high. Chameleon is pacing across the battlefield, going from one pack of bakemono to another. He has engaged the furthest pack with the noble, and sees what the rest of us do not, though he does not hesitate to yell it out: "By the Dreamer! This big one’s got a KATANA!"

The halfling is down and we can't help him; he is cut off from us by the bakemono. The noble’s horse goes down, its life fading quickly from the field, but the nobleman leaps free. He fights only with the wakazashi, but he is lethal. Lethal or not, he is alone and surrounded by a pack of Bakemono, and one is clearly a warrior of sorts. Intelligent Chameleon Survives engages the pack that brought low the halfling as we rush to revive him. He alters his appearance to do so, making himself look like the big bakemono with the katana with his magic. There is so much dying that one more reality shift is hardly noticed. He screams at the pack and points away; all but one are fooled and run off to attack a nonexistent enemy elsewhere. Although quick-witted, the Chameleon is not lucky, and the remaining bakemono decimates his body with two vicious swipes from its claws. Now Chameleon is dying, too.

Why didn't we see it coming? We are clear on this now: The bakemono will destroy us. We flee the field. The two remaining of our party sweep up our fallen companions and retreat, leaving the noble in the midst of the battle. The bakemono do not follow us when we have left their territory. As we carry the halfling and Chameleon away from the encampment of nightmares, we sense several reality shifts behind us. Whether these are reactions to the deaths of several bakemono left bleeding on the field, or the death of more bakemono fighting the noble, or perhaps (and likely?) the death of that man as well, we do not know. We are no longer in that story.

_--Ocean Deeply Sleeps_


_DM note: notable moments—the halfling charges an enemy (with Mage Armor, he has AC 20) and completely misses. "What do you expect?" we ask the player, "You’re a halfling!" Later, the halfling gets a critical hit on a bakemono, for 4 damage! There’s halflings for ya!

The fall of Chameleon truly was unfortunate. His ruse worked on all but one of the bakemono in a pack that included the three who were fooled with his first ghost sound. That bakemono rolled very high damage on both successful hits with its claws, and instantly, the Chameleon, who had been most conspicuous on the field of battle, was out of the fight.

First Chameleon, and then Ocean, took the mound of the original sentry with the intention of performing a coup de grace on the sentry as well as keeping the high ground. Unfortunately, neither had time to pull off a full attack action, as I kept the bakemono coming.

Ocean was a valiant fighter, as well as a rogue, but chose only a set of throwing knives as weapons--go figure. After this fight, I think she’ll get a naganata, like Swift uses.

Swift knew what Ocean and Chameleon have both discovered: weapons with reach are fun. (Okay, Chameleon had a whip, but, that's hardly a weapon. His spells were really his weapon. Oh, and that crossbow was nice.)

They all found out that my earlier warning was not a joke: I *am* a rat-bastard DM. Although, it’s not my fault that none of the party could cast divine spells…hehe. It is too bad that they took so long in the first part of the battle that reinforcements came. If they had encountered the bakemono warlord in the middle of the camp, it would have been fun; there were mud-pits concealed in the darkness, and the warlord had improved bull rush…_


----------



## Rune (Jan 18, 2002)

Session 2, part 1

We know less about our purpose than we knew before. Running for one's life will do that to a person. Survival quickly becomes the only course of action with any relevance. Swift and I are the only members of our company who suffered no wounds in the bakemono camp, so it is we who nurse the unconscious forms of the halfling and the Chameleon back to health. Our shelter is barely that. We have found a cluster of trees with a great stone as a wall to put our backs against. It is as if we are captive in a cage with no borders. Tempers are short. Swift, in his great frustration last evening, shook his fist at the sky and declared he could not linger for days in the wilderness, and though he spoke from his own heart, he spoke for all of us.

I should have known, should have guessed, that following our four days of healing where we fled to the south, the Chameleon, of all people, as soon as his wounds were quieted, would turn us back toward the mounds of our defeat at the hands of the bakemono. Chameleon is on his feet, though grunting and complaining at times, and the halfling, with his pestilence of a monkey in tow, which I cannot help but watch with amusement, is miraculously recovered (with the help of Swift and myself, of course) and walking with the thing perched on his shoulder, or scuttling through the trees, when they are thick enough. We noticed the monkey loitering one night at the edge of camp and lured it in with rice grains and fruit gathered from the trees on a summer day (we’ve had only one of those, regretfully, so fruit is short). It developed an immediate attachment to the halfling. The halfling calls it Fighting Monkey Dances, after himself. I think that the Monkey family would be insulted if they knew.

_DM note: the player of Fighting Man Dances calls the monkey Mojo Jojo out of character. Also, almost immediately, the halfling started teaching (or trying to teach) the monkey martial arts--nevermind that the monkey is about the size of a cat._

I am hungry for more than rice, and tired not in body, but in spirit. We are aimless it seems, in the face of this world. Where once we had a clearly defined goal, we find ourselves facing a void. We had not expected to flee for our lives. Now, it seems, we are going back to the bakemono camp to attempt to rectify the outcome of our misadventure; either we will rescue a captured noble, or take his ancestral belongings and body, if we can manage it, to his family. As we neared the camp we could not agree on what was to be done with the monkey--such a little detail, but one that could reveal us to the bakemono--and we cautioned the halfling to tie the monkey to the tree (well…I wanted the thing thrown in a sack). This was done, but the halfling untied the monkey when we were not looking. (We never found out until later, for the monkey stayed away from us as we traveled to the camp.) We are to go in by stealth, rescue Grinning Tiger Rules, or honor him and retrieve his belongings, and get out.

_DM note: the idea here was that they could have succeeded in daylight where they had failed at night. They never told me where stealth fit into that plan._

We pass through the tall grass (it is summer again, this day) and finally, with great caution, toward the lookout mounds of the bakemono; we cannot believe what we see. Of course, in this world you cannot believe much of anything, yet the area is raw ground, as if it has been trampled by a thousand ghostly elephants that have left no tracks. The earth around and through the camp is obliterated, thrown apart in chunks by some monstrous earthquake with only the circle of stone spikes towering fifty feet above left standing. The huts are all in ruins. There are no bodies, nor graves. We have come to free Grinning Tiger Rules from the bakemono, if we can, but there is no life here. There is now no hope for the payment of fifty Rice-Months apiece, nor of reclaiming honor. I want to look for the festival town again, to get news of war, if there is war, and to feel the comfort of a village again, but we can not decide on our direction. Chameleon would have us go east, and for what, I do not understand. But, as is often the case, his will prevails. Before we finalize our decision, Swift reveals that he has discovered something on the ground. It is a pouch, richly decorated and richly lined: a substantial pouch of the Empire's silver. We ponder its significance, but our course does not change. We go east. Into, we soon discover, an ancient forest.

_DM note: Intelligent Chameleon Survives has the highest Charisma in the group, and whether or not that plays a part in the group's discussions, I known not, but I do know that he kept the group moving in unexpected directions this session, trying to outwit me. Too bad I had contingency plans..._

*East and Into the Forest*

There is still daylight when we enter the tree line, but when the forest around us grows too thick to walk side by side, dusk is falling. It is dark--very dark--already, beneath the ancient trees. Chameleon casts a spell upon himself that grants him the ability to walk up trees like a monkey, or a spider, and uses the little light that is left to climb a tall tree and scout out our surroundings. Thunder rolls in the distance, presumably the Dream’s reaction to his spellcasting. When he has climbed above the canopy of the forest, he looks around. Nothing is moving, but he can see several large clearings. One is not too far to the east. We head toward it, Chameleon and the halfling fifty yards ahead of Swift and myself. And then they see it, long before we catch the first whiff of smoke: a glowing line of red advancing toward us from the east, quickly; we must get out of the forest. We are forced to run single file through the dense trees, west, away from the fire, calling to the halfling who has gone back to look for the monkey, and crashing through branches that block our way. We can smell the smoke that is rapidly layering the woods. We feel the scorching heat of an entire forest aflame. We are running in the blackness of dense wood, with thick, white tendrils choking our lungs, the ocean-light above smothered by the dense foliage and smoke overhead. I can hear my companions running and then I realize they have gone back for the halfling. I can not turn back. My legs have control of my mind, and they go west. The wall of fire is faster than we are--much faster. The fire is closing. Chameleon is down, burned and asphyxiated—dead or unconscious, we know not which, but the halfling, Swift, and I break free of the forest. The halfling runs back into the forest and begins to drag the human, who is twice his size, to safety. Surely, the fire will devour them in a few seconds. Swift attempts to leap back into the forest as well, but he is repelled again and again by the intense heat. The fire is almost upon the halfling and the human. Finally, Swift is able to aid the halfling, and Chameleon is brought beyond the boundary of trees into the fresh air of night. They are saved. Their breathing is labored and one of their number is unconscious, yet they are alive. We retreat to the ruins of the bakemono camp, west of us, and it becomes a base of operations, for a time. In the days to come, the Chameleon curses the fire, irrationally blaming it for his loss of honor (if indeed, his collapse was even such a loss). And, although Intelligent Chameleon Survives vehemently denies it, we all wonder if it was his spell casting that ignited the fire that nearly claimed our lives.

_DM note: it was actually the halfling who first identified the fire for what it was. While Chameleon was still trying to figure out what my description meant (he envisioned a bunch of glowing red eyes), Fighting Man Dances (whose player had actually seen a forest fire, as had I; we're brothers) immediately recognized the peril. The halfling most certainly saved the lives of the party with his quick thinking. The reason that this does not come out in the story is because, well, he's a halfling._


----------



## Rune (Jan 18, 2002)

Session 2, part 2

*Reality Shift*

The next day, it is winter in the Black and White Season. The Dreamer does not always dream in color. Snow, knee-high, covers the camp, and everything in the world is faded into different shades of gray, except for the snow, which is the purest white, and the darkest nights, which are the emptiest shade of black. I lose track, but I think it is four days that we have sought warmth and shelter inside an abandoned and ruined hut in the bakemono camp. Following the fourth day we wake, and it is spring--still black and white. The snow is gone. We head east again, but this time, north, as well. We travel until we come to a river, running west and intersecting with our burnt forest. Now that once mighty forest of ancient trees is nothing but a mass of densely-packed stalks of charcoal with layers of ash on the ground. We follow the river upstream, into the forest of ash. At one point a mass of shriveled and burned carcasses of trees bridge the swelling water. We consider a crossing, but it is too unstable. We move single file again, for the dead forest has thickened. We are wary of the possibility of collapsing trees falling upon us, and we turn back to travel downstream through the blackened hell.

_DM note: the Black & White season is one I've been wanting to spring on my players since it was first conceived. It came as a total surprise to everyone there, even my brother (Fighting Man Dances), who had helped me create the setting, and actually came up with the premise of the season. He just didn't see it coming. That was most satisfying..._

In two days, it is autumn. We have left the forest far behind. We come to a giant swath of cleared ground; the clear path of a huge war party, with both men and elephants, traveling south from the river. On the north side of the river, there are no tracks of any kind. We continue to follow the river downstream, to the west. It is dusk as we top the rise of the hill and see them: hundreds and hundreds of campfires, fires enough for a great army. We decide to make camp and watch, but fear that we may be close enough to be discovered by scouts. We are. We are invited (coerced) into joining the encampment by the scouts that have discovered us. They are friendly and in good spirits, but it is clear that they will not let us stay in our private encampment away from the army.

_DM note: the swath of cleared ground is presumably left by the army that the party saw passing southward to their west in Session 1. Another hook the players didn't bite on._

From the camp comes the sound of music and merriment, men and women in camaraderie. Food and drink is abundant, and the sight of it, even though it is a mighty army, tugs at my heart. In my life and in my companions, there were once homes and laughter and welcoming hearths. We feast, yet all stay sober; we are too wary to give in to drink. All of the warriors are amused by the presence of the halfling, "Why, he is but a child!" they exclaim. He is, and he is not. It is hard for them to understand.

The camp, we find, is divided. The conscripts eat and talk at the many campfires in the center and the cavalry and commanders are separate and unapproachable. In addition, the tents are divided by the campfires; there are tents on the north side of the camp, and tents on the south side. Everyone we talk to is very friendly--with each other and with us. The morale in the camp is quite high. The camaraderie around the conscripts’ fires is intoxicating. Intelligent Chameleon Survives and I are even offered naganatas (Swift already has one) by a sergeant. This is the weapon that the sergeants use. The yari footmen use yari spears, and the archers, of course, use bows. We happily accept these gifts and enjoy the evening, although we are still wary of the purpose of this army. No one has been able to tell us why they fight, save for the fact that it is their job to do so. 

We are approached by a sergeant as the evening wears on. "Which side will you go to?", the foot soldier asks, "You must choose one, for tomorrow we fight." Then, the terrible truth is revealed to us. We know then that we will be sleeping with two opposing armies for bedfellows. Tonight two armies shared friendship, fire, and feast. Tomorrow, they will kill each other. War makes no sense.

_DM note: the player of Fighting Man Dances began to suspect, not necessarily accurately in any way, that the soldiers were caught in a time loop, because one type of reality shift that can happen in this setting is temporal. He figured that if a whole lot of people died at once, it might create such an effect. The party has no evidence that this is the case, however._

*Reality?*

It is drizzling in the morning, spring again. Still, the season is the Black and White. The south army, with which we slept, prepares for battle, gray flags (that particular shade of gray which would be the brightest of reds at other times of the year) with white arrows fluttering from the backs of the conscripts’ armor. "Where are the generals?" the Chameleon calls out with great urgency. "We will see the generals!" The conscripts are astounded at the presumptuous nature that we display. "You must don your armor, and prepare for battle!" they call to us.

"Where are the officers?" shouts Chameleon. The answer is obvious, however. As the soldiers form their lines, the cavalry do also, and behind the cavalry, is the richly decorated troop of commanders, on the only elephants in the army. 

The cool air floods over us while we smoke and make our plans for escape. Swift and the Chameleon are at each others throats. Again, Chameleon sets our course of action. We will approach the officers and offer our services as a special troop, and escape when we get the chance. With each step we take closer to the officer's camp, more and more conscripts around us stop what they are doing and stare at us. "We seek the officers, " we call. We, peasants, are approaching the commanders! The conscripts look at us in awe.

The cavalry are more disciplined than the foot soldiers, and their formations are nearly complete. We humbly, humbly bow. "There is no way out", I hear Swift's voice in my ear. "We cannot fight", the Chameleon snarls back at him with a sharp instruction to follow the plan. The Chameleon addresses himself to the commanding horseman, and diplomatically pursues an audience with the commanders. The cavalry leader assents.

_DM note: Intelligent Chameleon Survives rolled a natural 20 on his diplomacy check right here, for a total of 27. Nothing spectacular, but at least it was success._

We are circling west, behind the army, past the sound of horns and the rain of arrows flying until at last we stand before a mounted officer, his elephant towering above us as he moves forward to address us. Chameleon calls out in a loud voice, filled with the delusional authority with which he views himself: "We have some skills that might be useful to you in battle. Hear us out!" The man glares down upon us, but this is enough. This is what we came for. Now we present our offer. But the commander is unimpressed. He does, however, grant us a place in the troop of yari footmen flanking on the east, where we have come from, if we can don our armor and catch up in time. (There is no armor for the halfling, of course—he is only a halfling, after all.) That would put us on the edge of the battlefield--an easy escape! In elation, we hastily put on our conscript armor and run. I do not notice the volley of arrows descending until it is too late for me to react. I feel the burn of the assault bursting through me. Four arrows have pierced me. Through a strange mix of tears and the clarity that a close brush with death brings, I can see that the others have avoided the hail of metal, wood, and fletching. I still stand. Chameleon casts a spell and becomes a commander before our eyes. The resulting reality shift has no comparison to the tremendous shifts that are to follow. Our hearts are in our throats, for the cavalry has divided into two troops, each riding behind the army to flank from either side. One troop rides down upon us. Some of the riders have slumped in their saddles, having taken arrows through their armor. Swift and I both attempt to seize the horses of two such warriors, but both attempts are failures, which leave us lying in the mud and amongst the trampling hooves of the cavalry.

Chameleon, the commander, calls out for the cavalry to stop. They do. Every single horseman in the east flanking assault halts and gathers around him. "I am a general and these are my men." (I little cared at the time to point out my femininity.) "Horse for the four of us at once! You three, I command you to dismount and report to the other officers that we are in need of reinforcements. Things have not gone as planned."

I am aware one of my companions (Swift, I think, or maybe the halfling) taking some arrows in another volley, but I am soon pierced by another four. I am not dead, but I have lost touch with my body, and I fall into the darkest black of this colorless season. I will not be saved this day. But Swift is running to me and drags me up and onto the horse and the last thing I remember is the weightless sensation of being lifted and of movement--violent movement--of the horse and every jolt an arrow of pain.

_DM note: this battle was particularly viscous. The PCs never saw the archers that were raining arrows down upon them. In truth, it was more of a prolonged trap--as was the forest fire in the earlier part of the game. I was treating each arrow volley as an area of effect attack, letting each PC make a Ref save to avoid being hit. If a PC was hit, they got 1d4 arrows, and Ocean always got 4. I seem to remember that she actually took another volley before dropping: 12 arrows total._

*The Dying Begins*

I am unconscious, but conscious of all that matters. When the dying truly begins on the field of battle, all elements cut loose, and earthquake, fire and flood play at the heels of our horses. Debris and explosions are spurring the horses on to incredible speed. The Dreamer is crazy. But we are out. We are headed south, away from the battle, but I still cling precariously to life. Maybe if I die, everything will become clear…

_--Ocean Deeply Sleeps_


_DM note: notable moments--the fire and the battle were both potentially very lethal situations and it is certainly a testament to the ability of my players that they all survived. They work well as a team. The fire, in particular, was a frantic encounter for the PCs. It took them hours to get that deep into the forest. It took them less than ten rounds to get out. When Intelligent Chameleon Survives fell unconscious, I was sure that he would be burned alive, especially when Swift Serpent Strikes failed to re-enter the forest 2 rounds in a row. That halfling was not going to get the human out without help. Of course, I thought the halfling would perish, as well, for his selfless act. I'm thinking of giving him a point of good karma.

Swift Serpent Strikes' player was also playing the halfling's monkey friend. The comic effect that the monkey provided relieved a great deal of tension throughout the game, particularly after the monkey had been tied to the tree, and wasn't "speaking" with the halfling.

Intelligent Chameleon Survives...well, what can I say? His tactics weren't too different from the last session, but this time, his illusion worked better than he could have imagined. I couldn't decide if he deserved good karma or bad karma for it, though, so in the end I gave him none. (Karma is a game mechanic unique to this setting.)

Ocean Deeply Sleeps now has a naganata, but hasn't yet had the opportunity to use it. I was a little surprised to see her try to dismount a wounded cavalryman on her own side, given her honor, but only mildly. Perhaps we have the kernel of a personality conflict?

Fighting Man Dances is a trip. He is going to give his butterfly sword to the monkey when (if) he has taught it martial arts. The monkey is the size of a cat!_


----------



## Rune (Jan 20, 2002)

*The Characters at the end of the session:*

*Swift Serpent Strikes (Rogue2/Fighter1)

Intelligent Chameleon Survives (Rogue1/Sorceror2)

Ocean Deeply Sleeps (Rogue1/Fighter2)

Fighting Man Dances (Monk2/Sorceror1)*


----------



## Rune (Jan 20, 2002)

Session 3, part 1

I am conscious again, but I cannot move.

We are certain that our luck has changed. We have fled from the fury of the elements in full armor and on the backs of war-horses. We have narrowly escaped an unexplained battle and we are riding hard toward the south. When at last the landscape becomes solid beneath us, when the wind subsides and the earth ceases to shake, we turn to look for shelter and to make encampment where Swift’s wounds, and mine, can be nursed and where my body can be revived. 

We come upon the kind of expansive rock overhang that I have slept near many times. A giant hemlock tree stretches its Anaconda root nearly thirty feet across the edge of a rock overhang and dips into the soil below. The ledge is narrow. A human might be able to crawl between the upper and the lower level, or perhaps the halfling could crouch. It forms a sort of a shallow cave, but a hole in the back of the crevice, no more than a foot in diameter, leads deep into the earth. Curiously, we discover a tiny tiger cub outside of the shallow cave, its eyes still closed, and so small that it could fit in the palm of a hand, just sitting there in a kind of stupor, in the company of a clutch of innocuous little cave spiders. The spiders dare not close in on the cub that they surround, and the cub dares not move. I can see very little of this from where I lay, but I can feel the draft from the mouth of the cave. The men ready their weapons, sensing that if the cub is there, the tigress might be returning. Immediately, they build a fire.

A rush of cool air thrusts out of the mouth of the rock shelter. The halfling monk sets out to explore the back of the cave, and Swift follows soon after him. Dragging Chameleon from the burning forest has won the halfling a new respect from the group. We hear the raised voices of the men and Chameleon, who had been assigned to watch over me, for any small movement could send me back toward my death, sets forth to investigate the matter. I am later told that they have come across a human body, long dead, wearing the standard traveler's garb, lacerated and in full decomposition. There is a mark on the back of the neck—-a brand—-that they have drawn upon paper for me. I do not recognize it and neither do the others, I presume.

Swift has searched the body, (soul-tainting work that it is, sometimes these things are necessary) and has found a map outlining an assassination plot against the Governor in a large town, called the Silver City, not far from west from here. He has also recovered three ceramic vials of some liquid, which is putrid to smell. I can see in Swift's eyes that he would have us go to the city, but I cannot bring myself to think of it for I am so tired. I long, as he does, for the sight of a city. Chameleon strokes the kitten carefully with his large hand. Perhaps we could send the monkey into small opening in the back of the cave to explore. They toss in a piece of fruit, but the monkey will not go inside. Chameleon casts a spell of lighting on a crossbow bolt (he has a tiny crossbow, which he can use with a single hand) and fires it into the hole, but it hits a wall and then drops. Whatever reality shift that is triggered in the casting is too subtle for our notice. The cave is narrow for as far as can be seen. Searching for rocks to block the entrance, they seal it tight. Finally, we feel somewhat secure.

_DM note: the player of Swift was playing the monkey again. Monkeys are funny._

For a week we rest and heal. I can hear Chameleon working on constructing a composite bow late into the night. He is not finished when we decide to move on, but continues to work on it, when he can; he even twists the bowstring with hair liberated from the war-horses while we ride. The city beckons!

*The Adventure Begins*

As we near the city, we stop to study the map and consider where we will leave our horses. There is some argument regarding the wisdom of Swift carrying a map with plans for the assassination of the governor on his body, particularly if the map is of the city we enter, and the governor in the plans is the governor of that city. We urge him to destroy the map, as we have made a copy of the neighborhoods, but he intends to keep it and says he will take full responsibility for it if it is found on his body. We stow the armor on the horses and we enter with our weapons at ease, going east toward the market place. We are carrying remnants of conscripts’ armor, the Empire’s silver found in the bakemono camp, and the war-horses, Chameleon reminds us. We are conspicuous.

_DM note: it took the players a long time just to figure out which entrance into the city to use. In the end, they probably chose wisely._

It is decided, then, that we enter on foot, into the East Gate neighborhood, described on the map as a rough and tumble neighborhood, over-run with mercenaries and adventurers: transients. All weapons must be peace bonded, the guards insist, and reluctantly, we comply. Rumors abound in the Silver City. Our old encounter, Grinning Tiger Rules, is said to have lost his ancestral katana and lost great honor for himself and for his family. This rumor is obviously old and stale. It is soon drowned out with a new, omnipresent one: the Governor has been assassinated. Guards are everywhere moving among the denizens of the city. One, we see is clearly in charge of the others; she is an impressive woman soldier with strands of gray in her braids, carrying a three section staff, and barking orders at the rest of the guards. She passes by quickly.

_DM note: the rest of the guards carry naganata and swords. The PCs figured that the commander was a monk, because of the three-section staff, but have no other evidence that this is the case._

We decide to split up and keep a low profile. Swift is going to find an alchemist’s shop to inquire about the vials of liquid. Chameleon and the halfling go off somewhere to explore the market, I suppose. I attempt to codify the rumors about the Governor’s death, but with no success. When we meet again, Swift shows us a note signed and sealed by the Commander of the Guards, Night Softly Calls. He has (foolishly?) given the map to the Commander, and claims that she is entirely trustworthy. Perhaps she is. We have been granted permission to enter the Governor’s Palace on the condition that we will attempt to solve the mystery of his death. The Guards will, of course, escort us. It is quickly decided that we will accept the challenge offered by the Commander.

My companions are, for the most part, still a puzzle to me. As we walk I ask Chameleon what, just at this moment, his philosophy is. "I don't care about Grinning Tiger or the governor. Honor is a personal thing. My honor is my business. Right now, however, all I want is to find some new daggers." I wish that I could find such sense or simplicity in the Dream. More than any of us, he lives in the moment, he dreams with his weapons, he is ready to react or to accept a challenge.

Our knives are all that remain ready as we move toward the palace.


----------



## Rune (Jan 20, 2002)

Session 3, part 2

The dead Governor’s name is Mad Stone Tumbles. It was, we shall soon see, an apt name for the man.

As we walk through the expensive neighborhood of Silver Hill, we are astounded at what we see. Even in this Black and White Season, the silver trees are astounding in the spring. The leaves are silver. Real silver! More extravagantly, so are the bulb-shaped domes on the spires of the beautiful buildings in the neighborhood. It is simply amazing.

_DM note: I kind of thought that the players might try to take some leaves with them, but to their credit (or discredit?), they did not._

It is no surprise to me, when we enter the Governor's bedchamber, that Chameleon is the first to step near to the expansive window and study the strand like substance remaining in the open frame. The rest of us have found a more interesting puzzle: the Governor’s diary. As we read the tome aloud, Swift examines the body of the late Governor in great detail. The body is bloated, lacerated. Quite clearly there was some struggle, here. The wounds are more swollen than the remainder of the body, so we conclude that the assassin was using poisoned blades. The halfling is pacing the room back and forth in front of the body, his pacing dizzyingly quick. Swift opens a vial to see if there may be some connection between its contents and the overpoweringly evil smell in the room. The diary exhibits his incredible paranoia. It is filled with grandiose schemes of power-mad conspirators. It is filled with imagined plots of every kind against the Governor. He fears for his life. And has for years. Is it the wench occupying his bed who will snuff out his existence? Is it the matron of House Dragon ("that manipulative wench" is the actual reference)? Is it the rival for his position as Governor, Laughing Monkey Rules (the new Governor, as it turns out)? His mind is a room full of doors opening out upon a landscape of fear and delusion that only restless sleep could wrestle with.

The servant who discovered the body, is questioned. She heard sounds of struggle in the Governor’s room, and screams. When she entered (immediately, she claims), she discovered the awful truth. Oddly, there was no noticeable reality shift when the Governor passed from the mortal world.

_DM note: I was hoping that the PCs would bite on some of these hooks, but, unfortunately, they got right to the point._

Chameleon is bothered by the window. He asks the guards for permission to cast a minor spell, which will allow him to climb the wall outside the window as if he was a spider. The guards assent. When we hear the palace echo with trumpets, the Dream’s response to the magic spell, we look up, aware that Chameleon has cast his spell and is crawling outside of the window. He is brave to do so at such a height, even with the magic. He sees more strands above the window, and goes up. As he nears the top of the building, Chameleon sees an opening in the wall. A very large opening, that is clearly not part of the architecture. He casts his light spell upon a dagger and throws it into the large crevice between the dome and the marble wall. When the Dream reacts, the air wavers as it does when heat bears down upon a stone street. I glance around the room and I see that the monkey and his constant companion, the little tiger have fled. I know not how they had the sense to do so, but I can only admire their wisdom. The halfling is deliberating pursuit of the animals. Swift and I are looking up, out the window, at the exact moment the heel of Chameleon's boot rushes toward us, as he leaps through the window in the shadow of a creature that I will be able to describe on my deathbed, moving with such speed and superhuman agility that his many legs and furry abdomen are but a blur below the hideous head with its scissoring mouth now closing and multiple eyes devoid of soul; the black, hairy legs have drawn in the Chameleon. And there is no sound in the room but the rending of flesh and the slight whish of the venom entering his exposed neck. The guards have run.

_DM note: man, did this come as a surprise to the players. I had been telling them for a week that the next session would be primarily political intrigue. They didn't see this coming. (Well, to be honest, Chameleon's player had his suspicions, which is why he climbed the wall. When he saw the *15 FOOT HOLE* I would have thought he would back off. But noooo, he had toss a dagger in...  _

*The Beast*

Incredibly, Chameleon still stands, but not for long. He makes a feeble attempt to defend himself, but the huge spider strikes again. Chameleon is dead before his body has crumpled to the ground. In response to the death, the ceiling begins to rain down small chunks of marble. Swift is struck a glancing blow. I am struck more critically, but it is a mere annoyance, compared to the monster that faces us.

_DM note: this is the first time that the PCs received damage from a reality shift, albeit indirectly._

I think for just a second; I do not feel fear yet, but my surprise is strong, as if a great wall of water or rain of stone has come from out of nowhere and is sweeping us all away toward death. I will not leave the body of our fallen companion. The others obviously come to the same conclusion. 

The spider is near enough that I feel his breath upon me. I am bitten and, along with the terrible pain, I feel...weakened. My weapons are bound, all but the knives in my sash and I ready the knife, which will only be like a stone dropped in a vast raging river, and make my strike. A great leg throttles me and I fall, fangs scraping across my leather armor. Swift unties his naganata (how, I forget) and strikes, but he has failed, and is swept under by the grinding maw. Somehow, he shrugs off the poison, for a moment, but it soon catches up to him. The halfling casts a magical spell on himself, and later, on me. It provides me with a magical defense against the bite of the spider, and I am grateful. In the thick of battle, the reality shifts go unnoticed.

The spider-creature is quickly moving to block our escape.

_DM note: the player of Fighting Man Dances immediately picked up on the fact that the spider was using intelligent tactics. Very interesting..._

We try to fend off the creature with our blades, but it is much quicker than we are and is so much larger than we, that any advantage of reach gained from our weapons is lost. There is something primeval, something that comes from the cave and creeps into our eyes as we hear the ghostly shout, "Fire" and the halfling, in the only second we have, summons forth some force to retrieve a lamp from beside the bed or on a wall. Unfortunately, the Dream’s reaction is very noticeable, this time. A gust of wind blows out the flames of every single lamp in the room. We are in total darkness. And the spider can see us. 

_DM note: this is the point that the players really hated me. Hey, they handed it to me..._

This is the darkness of the known enemy breathing away our lives. This is the darkness of the enemy now not on one side, but on many. Swift makes a lucky blow with his naganata and slices deep into the furry creature. He is rewarded with only anger. The halfling reaches for the flint in his pocket and brings into existence a glimmer of a fire that takes its breath upon the pages of the madman's diary.

_DM note: and here, the tide begins to turn._

He has thrown fuel upon the fire, and Swift has pulled a curtain from the casement and washed it in fire and we are running forward. We throw the flaming curtain on the nightmare, and it is burned badly. It retreats. 

We grab another curtain and attempt the same attack, but the spider has run to the far corner of the enormous room, and the sheet has been burned away by the time we get to the spider. It does cower from the flame, however.

The halfling is throwing small, burning objects at the spider. In an act of self-preservation, the spider rushes past us, attacking Swift as it passes. Swift swings out feebly, but can not manage a successful blow. He is brought to the brink of death by the spider's attack. I attempt desperately to stop his bleeding, to heal him, while the halfling continues his assault on the monster. 

Chameleon dead, Swift dying. I am injured and weakened and, it seems, no weapon made by humanity can offer protection from this unworldly thing. Do I see the image in my mind, do I hear Chameleon's voice calling out to us from the dead?

Swift joins Chameleon in death. My healing has proven futile. The Dream reacts; a column of fire rises from inches above him into the ceiling, burning me.

The spider is heading for the window, but stops at the body of Chameleon, clearly intending to take it with him in retreat. In desperation, Fighting Man Dances throws one last bundle of burning cloth at it, and the flame flickers as if it will burn out. But the bundle explodes into flame a second later, and the spider’s life is spent.

_DM note: that is karma in action. The halfling rolled (on 1d6) a 1 for damage against the spider, which (although he didn't know it) had 2 hp left. I marked off the karma point he had received in the burning forest, and he rerolled...a 6! There was much rejoicing._

The air is choking with the smell of its putrid, smoking fur. With the death of the spider, night turns to day, and again, to night, and a great wind sweeps through the city. The beast is dead. The guard returns and take the bodies of Swift and Chameleon to the Shugenja temple in the North Crossing neighborhood. The halfling and I are escorted out of the palace and soon have received an invitation to the House Dragon. We accept an escort and go.

_DM note: the House Dragon is possibly the most influential force in the city, politically. The Dragon family is a very powerful family within the empire, and the Silver City is its home, so in a sense, the Silver City is House Dragon's._

*House Dragon*

Our two dead companions, having been taken to the temple, weigh upon our minds as we enter the opulent palace of Dragon Silently Hunts. We should, she is certain, be rewarded for our valor in battle. We are, after all, heroes. Would 100 Rice Months for each of us be sufficient?

"While it would be a great wealth," the halfling replies, "what we seek is something for our companions who can have no reward in death. Can the Shugenja bring them back?"

"We shall see."

Dragon sweeps from the room to send a message. Our eyes cast upward toward the heroic paintings which line the wall. In this season of black and white, the colors of the paintings stand out like flames along the polished alabaster walls, for, indeed, they do not lack color. One painting, in particular, captures our interest: a deep forest scene with a figure at the center, abstractly like a hooded monk with eyes of fire and body of ghostly white surrounded by what may be flames of blue, bears a staff, or rod, or sword down upon the black figure of some person kneeling at his feet. The forest is vast, awash with towering shafts of hemlock. The author's name is not known, but the title rests below, embossed in gold. "Undeath in the Silver Forest."

_DM note: this was a cool moment, I painted the picture, myself. It was very abstract and the players could make little of it._

I remember the Chameleon's final words, "What do we see in death? Do we meet the dreamer?" 

I fear that what we have not understood in life will escape us, also, in the hour of our death.

All our hopes now lie with our companions where they lie without breath on the marble slabs in the temple. Will our request be honored?

Dragon returns, but before she can speak, a young nobleman strides into the chamber, wakazashi and katana at his side.

"Mother, the preparations are..." But his voice trails off as he takes us in. He glares balefully at us, and at his mother, before storming from the room. The halfling and I exchange a glance.

It is Grinning Tiger Rules.

_--Ocean Deeply Sleeps_


_DM note: notable moments--right after the Spider attacked Chameleon the first time, and dealt some horrendous amount of damage on 2d6+6, I said, "Hmmm. Maybe I underestimated the difficulty on this one." That really set the mood for the entire battle. I do not, by the way, pull punches, and I did not fudge the stats of the creature. It was an advanced huge monstrous spider going into the battle, and it remained one until its death. I figured that it was around CR 5, and I ended up giving the PCs xp for a CR 6 creature. Half of them survived, though. I don't know what they are complaining about.

Intelligent Chameleon Survives was a charismatic and insightful man and he died a hero's death. He will be missed.

Swift Serpent Strikes was a devout companion and an honorable man. He died a hero's death and he will be missed.

Ocean Deeply Sleeps is often quiet during the game, because her player is busy writing copious notes. 10 letter-sized pages is not uncommon for her. Nevertheless, the player brings an element of the emotional to the game, where the other players might otherwise wax analytical. Not that any of the players lacks in either area, however.

Fighting Man Dances is once again the hero of the hour. Just goes to show that the little people can do big things. They still won't be noticed, however...  _


----------



## Rune (Jan 20, 2002)

*Characters at the end of Session 3:*

*Ocean Deeply Sleeps (Rogue1/Fighter2)

Fighting Man Dances (Monk2/Sorceror1)

Intelligent Chameleon Survives (Deceased)

Swift Serpent Strikes (Deceased)*


----------



## Rune (Jan 21, 2002)

*Ocean Deeply Sleeps' Elegy for the Fallen PCs:*

Four wandering fighters who find themselves trapped in a chaotic universe without a philosophy will wind up dead. "If ignorant of both your enemy and yourself, you are certain in every battle to be in terror." (The Art of War, Sun Tzu) Our companions have not died in vain.


----------



## Rune (Jan 21, 2002)

Session 4, part 1

*Out of the House Dragon*

It is with great relief that we leave the chamber at House Dragon to visit the bodies of our fallen companions in the Shugenja temple, where we have been all but assured that our companions in the hands of the Priests will be brought back from death. Can these nobles perform such miracles? Two dwarves guard the entrance to the main altar. It is so unusual to see dwarves, and their appearance is so barbaric, that their presence in this temple seems so…out of place. The priests, give them accusatory looks and shy away from them. When they speak of them at all (never too them), they call the dwarves barbarians. They are worse than the lower-castes, except for the untouchables. Not only are the dwarves not nobles, but they eat the holy flesh of the most sacred of animals. These dwarves are crude and distasteful, even for dwarves.

The bodies of Intelligent Chameleon Survives and Swift Serpent Strikes lie alone on the cold slabs, eerie in the light of the lamps. Cloying incense permeates the air. One Shugenja, more elaborate in raiment than the others, acknowledges our presence, scowling at the monkey perched on the halfling’s shoulders and the small tiger cub playing on the monkey's head. The Shugenja speaks. "This will require some sacrifice…I will have to…touch…the body. We will revive one now and one tomorrow." The tiger cub, playful, drops to the floor and leaps upon the Chameleon's body, and we nod to the priest to proceed. It is recorded. We owe the Shugenja a debt of honor. We begin our wait, as the Shugenja starts his ceremony. Fighting Man Dances and I both meditate, but each time I close my eyes I struggle to keep out the black image of the terrible spider.

As the halfling sinks deeper into the void of meditation, the monkey snatches the bag of Rice-Months given to the halfling by Dragon Silently Hunts, and scampers out of the temple. Fighting Man Dances casts a longing look toward him but he does not interrupt his mantra. The antics of the monkey are a foreshadowing of what is to come, I think.

_DM note: the monkey is being summoned as a familiar. Because I wanted to add some humor, I decided that the material cost for the summoning would be dealt with in this manner. When the monkey returns, he will come back with less (or none) of the halfling’s money._

And then, I notice the tiny spiders playing in the far corner and close my eyes again. I have seen enough of spiders.

Near dawn, and near exhaustion, Chameleon's willing soul returns to his body. A deep chorus of singing fills the church, as the Dream rejoices in the rebirth of Intelligent Chameleon Survives. But the Chameleon does not hear it; he screams, "I wasn't supposed to die!" and plows through the guards before they can subdue him. He rushes out into the street and is gone.

_DM note: Intelligent Chameleon Survives has retired and is now an NPC. Later, it is possible that the character may be picked up again as a PC._

A lower-ranking Shugenja enters the chamber and whispers to the high priest. Shortly after, another enters and does the same. Then the exhausted priest raises his head to face us. He is about to speak when yet another Shugenja bursts into the temple and shouts out, "Another one has been spotted in House Typhoon!" Only then does the head Shugenja tell us: the Silver Hill neighborhood (where the nobles dwell) and the North Crossing neighborhood (in which this temple is located) are being invaded by monstrous spiders. There have been dozens of sightings of the spiders, and a few deaths. The Governor, Laughing Monkey Rules, has ordered the evacuation of the neighborhoods. The nobles all have other cities to go to. If the spiders spread to the rest of the city, however…

I am asked (and when a noble asks something of a lower-caste person, they assume that they have commanded it) to help with the evacuation of the neighborhoods, since we have had previous dealings with one of the spiders. The dwarves are ordered to go with us. "Find the Commander of the Guard, and aid her!" the Shugenja says.

My first thought is for Swift's body still immobile on the slab.

_DM note: from the actual draft of the author’s log: My first thought is we're screwed. Just kidding._

I am trying to ignore the prattle of the dwarves around us, boasting of their skills in battle and how they are ready to stomp spiders. The first dwarf, Strong Dwarf Stands, (more appropriately, Strong Dwarf Smells), looks up at me and says, "we brave men, don't fight like women." I let the insult pass, because he is needed to carry Swift's body. My heart is sinking. I go forward out into the city as one who walks a narrow precipice. I do not look down. My only comfort is that the halfling remains with me for this battle, for battle is inevitable, it seems, if we stay in the city.

The dwarves are distracting me from my thoughts of death. They are brothers, and they both wear strange armor and bear the huge axes of the barbaric peoples. Strong Dwarf Stands’ brother named, Drunk Dwarf Snores. These are, of course, names given to them by humans, when they entered the human lands. I have no idea what their dwarven names are. They are probably unpronounceable, and fit less aptly.

These two tiresome dwarves sing and hop and blather as if they are on the way to a hearty breakfast, and not to become some gigantic spider's meal. I can not stand it. I would laugh if I could, at the absurdity of it.

In the distance, in the north, east, and west, we can see that the spiders are perched upon the roofline. No. They do not perch. The buildings in the distance are crawling with an innumerable mass of spiders, varying in size--crawling and leaping from building to building. It is truly terrifying. Dear reader, you must be thinking at this time that this is the last you may know of any of us. That is a reasonable assumption.

_DM note: from the actual draft of the author’s log: (Or you must be thinking that the man in the DM hat is mad. Certainly, I do. For by day he is a soft spoken scholar with a kind smile and by night he is Grinning Tiger......[the author associates me with said NPC often. I’m not sure why.]) _

But I digress, not wanting to return to that street, only wanting to close my eyes and see my lovely ocean with the light gleaming on the water, far above all of this insanity. But here, in this reality, the streets are devoid of humanity. We hurry to the North Gate. What we see is not good. The entire city wall is covered with spiders, and flames leap over the other side, keeping the monstrosities inside the city. We are not getting out of the city this way. We head south, toward the Merchant Street neighborhood, in the center of the city.

We are surrounded by the enemy, and harassed by two dwarves, balancing the body of the fallen Swift, as we proceed down the broad street. "Oh, we got spirits of fire, ain't that right brother?" the repulsive dwarves sing as they go. We are running now, toward the market place and setting fire to the aisles of wooden carts, baskets, barrels, and any other flammable material with which to barricade the spiders and extend our miserable lives more than a moment. Anything to slow the coming tide.

In the Market Street we see a mass of humanity. Mass hysteria dominates the crowd. We see the Commander, Night Softly Calls, calling out orders. There are around thirty of the City Guards—clearly not enough to bring order to the chaotic mob. We speak to Night Softly Calls, and she encourages us to help with the task at hand in whatever way we can. Apparently, by this point, the Governor has ordered that the entire city be evacuated; he is even, we are told, staying in the city (somewhere) until it is entirely evacuated. Then, the city will be razed. Fighting Man Dances asks for permission to set up some barriers and traps to delay the inevitable onrush of spiders. The Commander assents.

_DM note: the player of Fighting Man Dances shows himself to be a deft strategist. Most of the following preparations are his._

The halfling explains his plans. Then he begins to push the heavy carts that line the Market Street, to the great amusement of the dwarves. When the dwarves have stopped laughing, they lend a hand. They are immensely strong. Within little time we have set up a barricade that stretches several hundred yards from east to west. Now, we douse the carts and their contents with whale oil and prepare for the onslaught. We set up spears behind the wall, so that when the spiders leap over the flames on the carts, they will impale themselves. We find several ceramic pots of a volatile oil and set them around ourselves, within easy reach. The halfling lights a torch and we wait. The streets, behind us, are teeming with people, running and yet, looking as if they face a great void. The South neighborhood has no gate, and the entirety of the lower-castes must exit the city through the East Gate, or the West Gate. The crowd moves very slowly. "Gonna' kill me a hairy spider," the dwarves hum.

We wait.


----------



## Rune (Jan 21, 2002)

Session 4, part 2

They come.

We light the wall of carts. The dark stream black fur and legs halts before the fire, watching, their many black eyes reflecting the fire. Then, some of the spiders advance into the flames and are killed. Others leap over, onto the spears. We are throwing the ceramic jars of liquid fire at the creatures. We are firing burning crossbow bolts into them. Always, we are retreating. The spiders keep coming. Some are as small as dogs, some as large as horses. Soon, we can retreat no more, and the sea of people attempting to flee the city swallows us. We are carried to the south, but find ourselves in a clump of the Guards. Night Softly Calls is with us. Strong Dwarf Stands still has the body of Swift Serpent Strikes with him.

_DM note: hey, it was a valiant attempt at defense, but with that many spiders, what are ya gonna do?_

People are dying around us, their bodies becoming paving stones for the spiders’ path. Three spiders as large as horses are visible to the south, over the heads of the hundred or so people surrounding us. To the north, a colossal spider appears. It is easily the size of a small building. And it has an egg sac on its back. We are truly terrified.

The guards break and run, but Night Softly Calls charges forward to attack the spider with her three-section-staff. She never makes it. The beast leaps forward and clips her body into two unequal parts long before she is close enough to strike. There should be a reality shift. What I am praying for is a wall of water to sweep the city clean and drown the spiders. The Dreamer is not listening. 

_DM note: I would relate the reality shifts, but after a certain point you just lose count. I have no memory of what happened when Night Softly Calls died._

"Throw another priest on the fire!" one of the dwarves shouts, as they advance to do battle with the lesser spiders. I have no idea what he means. Perhaps it is some barbaric war cry.

_DM note: actually, I said that. It’s a lyric from a Black Sabbath song. It helped set the mood, I thought._

We rush southward with our swords and spears; we throw lanterns and burning matter. None of us is crazy enough to rush the enormous spider. The guards who have not fled are falling. But they are also killing the smaller spiders. More are coming. We battle as the Mother-spider moves on to another part of the city. The smaller ones keep coming. When the Mother-spider returns, we retreat to the east, the direction from which we entered this city.

We find our way blocked by long houses and narrow alleys. The buildings are covered in spiders, and filled with them. We have no choice; we must press on. There is a five-foot alley that we must get through. To the great pleasure of the dwarves, we can see a sewer opening on the far side (they have plans to enter it and escape the city through tunnels). To the great horror of the halfling and I, there is a steady stream of very large spiders crawling from it and jumping to the buildings.

We agree to run for the opening. We cannot find passage in the streets. Every roof-top has its sentinels; many thousands of eyes watch us, and we run through the narrow ally toward the sewers. We are caught in the webs. And we lose precious time cutting each other out, hacking away till arms and weapons are freed. The colossal spider has returned, and has leapt to the top of a nearby building…and then to the adjacent one. Finally we are free, and the dwarves rush forward to hack away at the steady stream of spiders coming from the sewer. Fighting Man Dances and I are not far behind. We wish to get away from the buildings as soon as possible.

_DM note: you would too, if you couldn’t see the buildings for the giant spiders crawling all over and through them._

The dwarves, in great madness or great bravery, I cannot decide which, have leapt onto the backs of nearby spiders and are hacking away with their great axes. The halfling swings his tai chi sword bravely (it is like a greatsword in his hands), but when we kill one spider, another takes its place, and looming, advancing toward us on the roof-tops, always we feel the gaze of the colossal matriarch, bearing a clutch of eggs on her back, surveying the work of her silent army.

At least the spiders are no longer coming from the sewer. They are not infinite in numbers, after all, it seems.

In every direction the city is now burning. We cannot retreat, we cannot stay above and yet to go under is to be trapped in darkness, facing our enemies. Suddenly, I realize that somewhere back in the chaotic crowd, we have lost Swift's body and that we will never see him again. We will never even be able to give him a proper funeral. This is a great blow to our honor.

In the sewers, the dwarves report that they see thick webbing blocking the way in either direction, east and west. How the spiders moved through it is a mystery.

Drunk Dwarf Snores wants to take a final jar of liquid fire and cast it down into the tunnel, to the east. The halfling insists that this will only smoke out the spiders that may still be down there. They would come back, and be very angry. None of us believes we could outrun the spiders in the tunnel. We decide to chop away the webbing with our blades. Above, fire is advancing behind us and webs entangle the passageway that will hopefully be our escape, but we plunge downward.

Throughout the tunnel, we hear scuttling. And then silence. All the dying has reached the Dreamer and a great earthquake rattles the city. Wind sweeps through the tunnel. Stone and debris pour down upon us. Strong Dwarf Stands is knocked unconscious (he took a very fierce blow when he leapt on the back of a live spider. His brother was more clever. The spider that he jumped on was already dead). His loyal brother drags him forward toward a pinpoint of light, as the halfling and I hack away the thick webbing. Our progress is slow. And there it is: the opening is up ahead. It leads us out of the side of a hill, some great distance from the city. A pool of sewage lies blow us and over the ridge, we can see the death of the Silver City.

And that, my friends, was some five years past, but as I write this it is as if I am standing there again, marveling at a circle of sky appearing at the end of the dark tunnel, leading into the sweetest night that we ever knew, for we had survived. And this is the story of how the Silver City came to be destroyed by its own Governor.

_--Ocean Deeply Sleeps_


*End of Act I*

_DM notes: notable moments--perhaps the most notable moment was the introduction of the miniatures. I'll leave it up to my players to enlighten you on the matter, but I think that the reaction was pretty favorable.

Ocean Deeply Sleeps is coming off as a deep thinker, not only in the story hour, but at the table, as well. And her player always brings the *best* snacks! Smoked salmon dip, this time!

Fighting Man Dances is proving to be more of a leader every week. Go, little one!

Drunk Dwarf Snores is the human-given name of the new character of the former player of Chameleon. He's a dwarf. A very uncharismatic dwarf. Who apparently snores very loudly. He's a fighter, not a barbarian, but he's still barbaric.

Strong Dwarf Stands is the human-given name of the new character of the former player of Swift. He's a dwarf. A very uncharismatic dwarf. The antics of the two dwarven brothers had all of us cracking up at the table, but killed any kind of horror mood that I was aiming at. Oh well.

I don't think one of my players will appreciate it when I *really* get into horror, if he didn't like the pace of this one. I won't tell you which player I'm talking about._


----------



## Broccli_Head (Jan 21, 2002)

Just a little BUMP! for old time's sake! Hurry up and get caught up, Rune!


----------



## Rune (Jan 22, 2002)

*Don't forget the link to the old boards*

Thanks for the encouragement, but don't forget that I've linked to the old boards, if you can't wait for me to get caught up!  (I know, I know...they're down right now!  Okay.  I'll post one more session tonight.)


----------



## Rune (Jan 22, 2002)

*Characters going into Act II:*

*Drunken Dwarf Snores (Fighter3)

Fighting Man Dances (Monk3/Sorceror1)

Ocean Deeply Sleeps (Rogue1/Fighter3)

Strong Dwarf Stands (Barbarian4) *


----------



## Rune (Jan 22, 2002)

*Act II: Honor
Year 3150*

_A new town is born
where the Monkey's mind is gone.
Whose honor is lost?_

Session 5, part 1

Five years have passed. Already, memory of the horrible events that have led us to this point begins to fade. The halfling is affected more severely than the rest of us, but our memory will blur, as well. That is the nature of the Dream.

_DM note: one of the side-effects of living in someone's dream is a short memory--and the halfling's memory loss is exaggerated in this case, just as all other attributes of halflings are also exaggerated. They are truly "half-people."_

It has been a long five years, it seems. The dwarves have been fighting the Nightmare in their barbaric homeland. The halfling has been in seclusion, still trying to teach his monkey in his monkish ways. I have had a son.

Then, we get the invitations. Each of us, it seems, has received a dozen invitations to a great party in the newly rebuilt Silver City at the Governor’s Palace, on the night before this year’s Rice-Cake Festival. That is how the three of us (Strong Dwarf Stands is still out fighting the Nightmare, his brother tells us. He will join us later.) find ourselves walking together toward the terrible city of spiders. We have not yet decided which invitation to accept. It is clear that we will insult any house whose invitation we decline. For most of the houses, this is not a problem, as we do not recognize them. Two, however, are distinct. We are invited by House Bamboo, House Sky, House Hawk, House Monk, House Naga, House Immortal, House Fire, House Spear, House River, House Water, House Typhoon, House Dragon, and House Monkey, specifically, by the Governor of Silver City, Laughing Monkey Rules. After much discussion, we settle on the Governor's invitation.

_DM note: ...instead of the invitation from House Dragon (specifically from Dragon Silently Hunts). Even though House Dragon is one of the most powerful houses in the Empire and the Silver City *is Dragon Silently Hunts' home city*._

A new city has been born from the ruins of the fire, an exact duplicate of its original design. Down to the cracks in the walls and the insane babbling old beggar at the East Gate, through which we once again enter the city, as we did five years before. Again, we are asked to peace-bond our weapons. We are wary, but we comply. We seek out an inn—the same inn that we stayed at on our last visit to the town—and prepare for the night’s party.

Soon we are ready to go. We weigh the advantages and disadvantages of showing up armed (albeit peace-bonded) and armored to the party and decide that we will be out of place in either situation. We might as well be prepared for whatever dangers this city still holds.

The Silver Hill neighborhood is amazing in the Rose Season. The red tint that saturates all of the Dream is reflected marvelously in the silver leaves of the silver trees, and on the silver bulb-shaped domes that top many of the buildings. The dwarf is so taken that he pulls a shining leaf from a nearby tree, but the fine sheet of silver crumbles to dust in his rough hand. It is spring, the land exists in the freshness of a new season and the rose glow lingers in the air. As we walk through the neighborhood toward the palace, we occasionally sense a presence moving along behind us out of the corners of our eyes. We separate and fall back, to ensnare whatever pursuers that we have, but we can find no one. The streets are empty, as everyone in this neighborhood is certainly at the party.

Inside the Governor’s Palace there is an abundance of food and drink. Musicians are playing and there is an undercurrent of celebration in the air, but the stiff formality of the situation kills any true celebratory spirit—for all but Drunk Dwarf Snores, that is. The dwarf quickly helps himself to the food and pushes his way through the crowds. Our host is nowhere to be seen.

_DM note: I usually don't have music playing in the background for my games, but I had some very nice Vietnamese music from the Khac Chi Ensemble and it made for a pleasant atmosphere._

It is quickly apparent that our presence has become a sort of a fashion. The family who was able to bring the "Heroes of the Night of Spiders" to this party has gained honor. The stories that relate us with that night astound me with their lack of accuracy. One persistent rumor even has us slaying the colossal spider. This is going to be a long night, I fear.

_DM note: just how the world knows about the PCs' events that night, in the first place, is still a mystery._

When we finally spot Dragon Silently Hunts, we advance to speak with her. She greets us precariously with, "I see that you have accepted the governor's invitation." Drunk Dwarf Snores has walked over to us from a table where he has torn a large leg of fowl from the tray and begins to suck the meat from the bone. Dragon Silently Hunts pointedly ignores him. We ask of her where the Governor is, and she replies that he just stepped out. He should be back momentarily.

_DM note: and here we see the well-played low-charisma character. The rest of the PCs wanted him to go away, and he *just wouldn't leave*. All night long!_

We have not been standing with the head of House Dragon for long when a murmur swells through the crowd and all of the nobles drop to the floor in deep bows. We sweep down when we see the boy enter the room. He is dressed in golden raiment and is followed by a train of servants. He cannot be more than ten years old.

The boy demands that the dwarf, intent upon his food, pay respect to the EMPEROR. The dwarf gives a little bow, pointing his fowl leg toward the floor.

What could bring the emperor to the Silver City, the home of the powerful House Dragon? The halfling is full of suspicion.

_DM note: isn't that cute? The halfling is full of suspicion! Wait...the halfling is always full of suspicion. Maybe his player knows me too well..._

Fighting Man Dances looks at me. "I fear we have stepped into a trap." Is it only our own paranoia about the invasion and destruction of the city, or the imminent return of the spiders? After all, we are in a great hall filled with every manner of delectables to eat and are surrounded by beautiful music.

Just as the question is forming in our mind and Drunk Dwarf Snores has resumed his visits to the tables, we agree, we would like to leave the celebration. The Governor has not returned. Near the exit, we stop short, staring directly into the eyes of Grinning Tiger Rules. "I fear the trap is sprung," Fighting Man Dances says beneath his breath.

"Leaving so soon?" Tiger smiles. "Have you not spoken with my mother? She will be upset that you did not accept her invitation." A tense moment passes between the young noble and our uncharismatic dwarf. The halfling manages to pull the dwarf away from Grinning Tiger Rules and explain to Drunk Dwarf Snores why the dwarf does not want to engage in a duel. Tiger leaves to speak with his mother, and then departs from the room.

_DM note: what's a party without Grinning Tiger Rules?_

It is at this point that the halfling and I see shadows cross the windows outside. Someone is clearly out there. 

Before we have time to contemplate the implications of this, the Emperor overtakes us. "It would please me to have an audience with you in the courtyard."


----------



## Rune (Jan 22, 2002)

Session 5, part 2

The immense courtyard is opulently lined with silver trees and little else. The rose-tinted ocean reflects down on us from above, lighting the courtyard as bright as day. The Emperor seems excited to be in the presence of the Heroes of the Night of Spiders whose exaggerated tales have reached his court. He has little more than begun to interview us, however, when Grinning Tiger Rules enters the courtyard and bows to the emperor. He then rises and stares at the young boy. Whatever moment that the two are exchanging is beyond our knowledge, but it is not, to our eyes, on friendly terms. We learn nothing more, for now, an evil trap is sprung!

The Emperor crumples to the ground.

From out of the shadows of the silver trees, two black-clad figures rapidly advance, dropping blowguns and drawing kris-bladed knives. They are on either side of us. Within seconds, they have advanced half of the distance of the courtyard.

The halfling immediately moves to the Emperor’s side and casts some protective spell, nearly losing his footing as the Dream pushes against him in retaliation. The dwarf tears off the peace-bonding on his massive axe and rushes forward to intercept one of the assassins. I remove the bonding from my naganata and move to protect the Emperor on the other side. We are not sure which side Grinning Tiger Rules will take. We are thinking that Grinning Tiger will act to protect the emperor, but with the deftness of a betrayer.

On his knees, the emperor lets fly a magic bolt from his fingers. This time, the Dream’s reaction catches the halfling and I off guard, and we are both almost pushed away from him.

Tiger’s katana is bared and he moves in between the Emperor and the assassin that the dwarf faces. We still cannot tell who his enemy is.

The assassins strike at us. The dwarf’s heavy armor fails to deflect the blow of his opponent, but he shrugs off whatever vial sting the assassin’s blade offers. The assassin whom I face advances, but I make a lucky hit with my long weapon. He is fast, and rolls off of my blade, but I evade his strike.

Drunk Dwarf Snores’ mighty blade tears a nasty gash into the side of his enemy, but it is not a killing blow. The halfling attempts to find the poisonous needles in the Emperor, while I attempt to drive my assassin away. Grinning Tiger Rules springs into action, dealing a fierce blow to the dwarf’s foe. The figure before me turns and strikes at the halfling. Fighting Man Dances cannot avoid the blow, and a moment later, the poison on the blade nearly brings him low. He backs, away, while, in an impressive display of great strength, the dwarf strikes again, bringing his opponent to the ground. He is not dead.

When the other assassin sees his companion fall, he breaks and runs for the trees. In seconds, he is gone. We yell out to Tiger not to kill the assassin, for we wish to question the attacker, but we are too late. Grinning Tiger Rules brings his katana down on the fallen body, and a great surge of vileness washes over us as the Dream claims the life of the attacker. The Emperor expresses his gratitude to Grinning Tiger Rules, and to us, for protecting him. Soon, the guests are upon us, congratulating us, and holding us up as heroes.

_DM note: one minor detail that has not been mentioned is that the body of the killed assassin is missing part of a finger, which leads the ever-suspicious halfling to believe that the Yakuza is involved somehow._

And in what seems like a moment only, one assassin lies dead on the ground and we have come to the aid of the emperor. Who are the heroes? What is there in this world that we can trust? Among a celebration, evil has planted a seed that would have killed the Emperor without our intervention. What further destruction waits beneath the towers of the rebuilt city?

_--Ocean Deeply Sleeps_


_DM note: notable moments--the showdown between Drunk Dwarf Snores and Grinning Tiger Rules was very, very tense. It was mirrored in a similar (but wordless) showdown between the Emperor and Grinning Tiger Rules. The players suspect that Grinning Tiger Rules does not play well with others.

Drunk Dwarf Snores was a perfect addition to the party (and, indeed, his player informed me that this was his favorite session, so far). No party among the nobility is complete without a boorish dwarf shouldering his way into conversations, dripping the juices of roasted fowl into his beard, and slinging grease across the room as he points with his food.

Fighting Man Dances is a crafty little halfling. He picks up on all the clues and leaps to particularly deft conclusions (see the Yakuza comment, above). They may be wrong, but they are still deft.

Ocean Deeply Sleeps was the main spokesperson for this session, as the dwarf was an obnoxious barbarian, and the halfling was...a halfling. She acquitted herself marvelously (this was the most role-playing intensive session we've had, which means this is the most role-playing intensive session she's ever experienced). I think she enjoyed not running, for a change. She's still sure that her character will die at some point, though._


----------



## Rune (Jan 23, 2002)

*Ocean Deeply Sleeps’ player could not be present for this session. Session 6 is written by the author of Strong Dwarf Stands and is written from his point of view. I have edited slightly.*

Session 6, part 1:

I finally make it to the party and the first thing that greets me is a crowd of people in the courtyard of the Governor’s Palace in the new Silver City. The city still looks exactly the same as it did five years ago, before it burned down. I don’t like it. Makes my beard itch. And all these rich fops lookin’ at me make me want to axe some necks. So what if I didn’t take a bath before I came? I don’t have time for sissy stuff like that.

The stench of human aristocrats mingles with the shouts of praise at my brother and his comrades. Apparently they went and did something like help some guy protect the human’s precious Emperor from some assassins or something. Before too long, the crowd splits us up somewhat. I don’t even know where that Ocean Deeply Sleeps she-human went off to.

Well, it’s a party, so I help myself to some food. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I have a belly to fill; killing Nightmares takes something out of a body, that’s for sure. If it weren’t for these damned nobles, this party would be fun.

I spit at a noble and try to feed the halfling’s monkey some monkey brains from the table. That damned ingrate wouldn’t take any! I find my way to the kitchen and get into a food-fight with the staff. One of them asks if I killed the colossal spider on the "Night of the Spiders."

"Er…um…Of course I did! Now outta my way!" I says real smooth-like.

Yeah, they’re impressed, alright. ‘Course, I didn’t tell them which big spider I killed. How do they define "colossal," anyway? Well I’ve had enough talk with these humans, so I head back out into the party and start filling up my burlap bag with food. I notice that these noble fops have a lot of respect for me, because they’re all keeping their distance.

Looks like the halfling has let his monkey get too close to some fancy fop of a noble that they call "Smiling Bobcat Rules," or "Grinning Tiger Rules," or somesuch. He looks more pissed than a gnome with a gem up his arse. He grabs the monkey and takes it to the halfling. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but they sure don’t seem to like each other. The man tosses the monkey to the halfling and I head on out to the courtyard in search of me brudder [my brother]. Looks like some big human caught him stealing leaves from the silver trees.

_DM note: I still haven't determined that either bobcats, or gnomes, exist on the continent, but...eh._

That man is big. He has the look of someone who has…er…"given his man-hood to the Empire," as the saying goes. He has an unnatural glow about his eyes. He may be big, but he’s clumsy; he almost trips over the halfling, who has just showed up.

So I says, "Hey, he’s stupid, but he’s our halfling, so don’t step on him!"

The halfling is concerned about the Emperor’s well-being (they took him away to other parts of the palace before I got here), but the big eunuch-guy won’t let us back into the party. He points his finger in my face and I nearly bite it off, but my brother pulls me away. Fine. We’ll go back to that inn that my brother and the halfling are staying at.

_DM note: leaving behind...Ocean...Somebody..._

We are walking down the street toward the center of town when the gong tower sounds. Now, here’s a funny thing: everything in this town is exactly the same as it was before it burned down, even the cracks in the walls. But I could swear (and my brother agrees) that there was never any gong tower in the center of town. I simply don’t remember it being there; it wasn’t there. A dwarf never forgets!

_DM note: ...but a halfling does!  Actually, dwarves do too, just not as quickly._

Then things start to get really weird.

We catch a glimpse of the old Captain of the Guard, Night Softly Calls. I catch up to her, and sure enough, she remembers us. What she doesn’t recall is being devoured by the colossal mother-spider. She must be forgetful; you’d think that since human’s lives are so short, they would remember something like that. Anyway, she gets angry with me for some reason or another, and tells us to go to our inn and walks away. Bah.

Well, we’re not quite ready to sleep, so we go to the gong tower to snoop around. There are some ratlings there that say that the tower has been there since the city was rebuilt and they claim it was there before the city burned. But _I_ know it wasn’t. He won’t let us in tonight, so we agree to come back tomorrow and head to the inn and grab a drink or few. All they have some piss they call "sockie" or something. Nasty crap. They need to order some good dwarven liquor.

There is a drunken (presumably) off-duty guard mumbling something about unexplained murders, a mutilated Captain of the Guard, rats, a bribe that he is not currently drinking, and the Southern Ward. Nothing important, really, just drunken ramblings. When he passes out, I dump his last drink over his head, but he’s out cold.

_DM note: ...nothing important.  Really._

We should get to our room and grab some sleep, too.


----------



## Rune (Jan 25, 2002)

Session 6, part 2:

On the morning of the Rice-Cake Festival, we get up and head to the gong tower. There’s no one at the door, so I bang on it and a pissed off old ratling tells us to go away, or something to that effect. He doesn’t accept our money, but he agrees to let us in if we tell him what "information that we know." (Of course, we don’t really know anything, but he doesn’t know that we don’t know anything.) He lets us take a look at the innards of the tower and climb to the top and my brother slams himself into the gong. That thing is loud!

The old ratling really wants to know what we know, and is only getting meaner. The monkey doesn’t like him either. We go back down to the bottom floor and there are rats and ratlings in every shadow, watching us. Finally he gets mad and pushes me out the door. My brother is already out, and the halfling follows quickly. The doors slam shut.

_DM note: actually, it was a very good bull rush attack._

He was hidin’ something. I know it. For one thing, he kept telling us that we’d be hunted down and killed if we talked to anyone about them. We were never there. Yep. Suspicious…

_DM note: one must pause and reflect on the brilliant lucidity of the dwarf's observational powers._

We go to the Southern Ward (there’s hardly any celebration here—and I know why; this place is a slum! There aren’t even streets, only alleys.) We catch a guy and start asking him questions about murders and mutilations, and such, and he freaks out! Turns out there’s some giant worm-like thing that’s got translucent skin showing off its innards towering over a house about a hundred yards off. He’s smashing buildings and eating people, so the locals are kind of panicky. Bah. Who needs ‘em?

By my beard, here we go again!

It sees us (somehow) and starts heading for us. My brother and I both have repeating crossbows from our days in the Shugenja Temple. We lay into the thing, but the bolts aren’t doing much. The halfling starts making a fire (what is it with him and fire?) and then he catches a glimpse of some guy on a rooftop and sends his monkey after the figure. I keep firing at the thing (it sure does move slowly with all of those houses in the way) while my brother runs into a house to find some help. He finds some coward and drags him out and throws him toward the worm-thing. The halfling wants to send the guy away to get the town guard, but it’s too late, he’s running for his life. Bah. Who needs him?

_DM note: what *is* it with the halfling and fire?_

When the worm-thing gets closer, I get out my beautiful masterwork great-axe (I made it myself, as a matter of fact.) and get ready to charge the big creature. The halfling casts some magical armor spell on me and the Dream tries to get uppity, but it recognizes my superiority and backs down. Then the halfling picks up a long piece of burning wood and readies it behind the flame. I wish I had time to laugh, but I’m going into a rage.

I leap over the fire and drive my axe into the worm-thing, but my blade slides off it’s thick, slippery skin. Then the thing reaches over the fire to attack the halfling, but the halfling is ready for it and drives the flaming splinter into the monster. That hurt it. A little.

_DM note: the dwarf's attack was a natural 20 on the leap roll, followed by a pitiful attack roll._

The halfling doesn’t get out unscathed, though. One of the worm-thing’s pincered tentacles takes a goodly chunk out of him. That hurt him. More than a little.

I taste the blood from my own tongue; I must have bitten myself in my rage. My vision becomes clear, like a hunting animal’s, and I see my brother moving behind the creature so that we flank it. Then he jumps on its back and starts chopping away with his dwarven war axe, while the halfling keeps grabbing flaming pieces of wood and stabbing the worm with them.

My vision becomes a narrow tunnel with only one thing at the end: something to kill. The worm-thing picks me up with all of its tentacles but I keep chopping away at its gaping mouth. The thing tries to stuff me in its mouth, but we all manage to attack it before it can pull off the deed. The combined might of the dwarven axes and the halfling’s stick obliterate the life-force within the creature, and the Dream’s reaction is powerful. We are all thrown through the air and drained of energy. We are victorious, but we have no token of our success, for the sky _rips open_ and swallows the entire body of the worm-thing.

_DM note: those dwarves sure are tough!  I'll have to think of something more challenging or they might start to get too powerful!_

The halfling and his monkey must share their brain, because the halfling says to us that the figure on the roof-top went to West Hill. We go there too; I’m not sure why. Apparently, we’re looking for some "twisted building" that doesn’t "fit." Whatever that means.

_DM note: the halfling and his monkey do actually share a brain...sort of; the monkey has become his familiar._

We find a building in West Hill (which is apparently where all the scholar-snobs go to hang out). The halfling says, "This is the place," and in we go.

The inside blows our minds. The building on the outside is one story tall (and not at all twisted), but on the inside, it is huge! It has a twisting spiral staircase and the inside is filled with books. I pick one up and the spidery lettering seems to crawl around off the page and into my head. _That is weird_. I don’t like this place. Some scrawny human comes up. The halfling could probably beat him up. He asks us if we need help and notices the corrosive worm blood on my axe, which I never got around to peace-bonding again. Funny. I know I cleaned it, though. When we tell him we killed a big worm, he looks distant and blank for a moment and then tells us politely to leave when he snaps out of it. We could come back tomorrow, if we like and even meet "the Blessed," whatever that means.

We haven’t gone too far when we get the feeling that we’re being followed. The halfling sends the monkey out again. Turns out it’s a ratling.

_DM note: what?  Followed *again*!  Couldn't be!_

When we get to where the monkey is, we see that there’s an unconscious ratling on the ground with the monkey on top of him behind a vendor’s booth. The halfling’s ridiculously proud because he thinks the monkey is finally learning to fight. Sure. I shake the ratling awake and we manage to convince him to talk to us. He says that the ratlings have been hired to keep an eye on us by "the Blessed" because we know too much. (The joke’s on them! We know nothing!)

Then the ratling shifts shape into a dirty little rat and escapes our grasp, which is very strange, because everybody knows that ratlings can’t change into rats.

Oh well. At least there’s still time to enjoy the festival.

_--Strong Dwarf Stands_


_DM note: notable moments--this was a pretty exciting session, despite the absence of Ocean Deeply Sleeps.  None of my other players relish the opportunity to be the scribe, because the feel that in order to take notes sufficient for a log, they have to cut back on the role-playing.  Nevertheless, Strong Dwarf Stands came off as obnoxious as ever!

*Strong Dwarf Stands* was once again a barbaric barbarian this session.  It was good to have him back and I must congratulate the player on his ability to roleplay and take good notes at the same time.  Also, the two dwarven brothers make an astoundingly good offensive team.

*Drunken Dwarf Snores* and his brother are both wonderfully played uncharismatic dwarves; both are distinct, and yet both play well off of each other and work together in tight cohesion.

*Fighting Man Dances* is funny.  In this session in particular, he stands out as a tactician, because the two dwarves, while being played by seasoned gaming tacticians, are being played as straightforward charging type of guys.  And nobody listens to halflings.  The player of Fighting Man Dances, by the way, was extraordinarily pleased at the part where his monkey had apparently knocked out a ratling.  He *really* wants that monkey to know martial arts!_


----------



## Rune (Jan 25, 2002)

*This session is a little bit different from last sessions--for one thing, it was a very short session.  We have a new player, a guest player, and, regrettably, the player of Ocean Deeply Sleeps (and the author of most of these write-ups) could not make it to the game.  This session is therefore written by the player of the halfling, Fighting Man Dances and is from his point of view.  I have edited slightly.*

Session 6.5

All is confusing in the great shiftings of the Dream.  What seemed real before fades in memory only to be replaced with haunting facsimiles that seem not to fit quite right.  At the Rice-Cake Festival, we meet an acquantance of Strong Dwarf Stands, a woman.  She could almost pass for human, but there is something otherworldly about her--I believe that she is one of the spirit-folk.  Apparently, Strong Dwarf Stands ran into her while hunting Nightmares.  She is one of the woodland-warriors.  Her name is Passion Readily Follows.

She has brought with her a foreign devil.  He is a very effeminent orc-blood who wears great ruffled collars and cuffs, coats so padded they could serve as armor, and a sword, which he calls a "rapier," that is so thin, it will surely break if it is ever struck upon anything.  The name that he has been given by the humans is Dashing Orcblood Croons.  He seems proud of it!

Not long thereafter, we catch a glimpse of Night Softly Calls attempting to break up a street brawl.  We go to her.  The brawlers are pitiful, weak drunkards and are easily and quickly subdued by the dwarven brothers.  Night Softly Calls is, regrettably, unappreciative of their help.  After some bit of talking (and telling her of our encounter with the worm-creature), we manage to pry some information from her about recent events.  She is not immediately forthcoming with the information, however.  Before she will believe us, we must show her evidence of the creature, so we take her into the South Ward and show her the smashed buildings.  Night Softly Calls believes that the ratlings are behind the grisly murders of the inhabitants of the South Ward and also of her the former Captain of the Guard.

Night Softly Calls claims that she has only recently been placed as Captain of the Guard when the last one was killed a couple of weeks ago.  Memory is fading rapidly, but I am sure that she was a Captain when we first encountered her, five years ago.

Now, I have thought about this oddity, and others like it, for a long time and I have begun to develop a theory.  I believe that we have stumbled upon a reoccuring section of the Dream...

_DM note: I love it when my players do my thinking for me…_

I think that the dwarves can not accept the flamboyant nature of the orc-blood.  I tell him that they are base, and have no honor, but have their own personal strength, as all living things do.  Now, I speak not in tangents, but few seem to be able to follow my train of thought, I am reminded, as Orcblood pats me on the head.

_DM note: isn’t that cute?  The halfling is philosophizing!_

Lacking a better course of action for the moment, we head back toward the gong-tower, but the ratlings do not grant us admittance.  We, therefore, turn back toward our inn in the Eastgate neighborhood.  As we are flowing through the festival crowds, Our heads begin to pound and our vision begins to blur.  We are hearing voices that claw at our ears and eat our minds.  More sounds are added, soon; people are screaming.

We manage to part through the masses and see a stage off the side of the street with strange humanoid creatures--Nightmares, surely--with filthy gray fur cleaving through people with great stone axes.  It is they who are chattering and causing our migranes.  I imitate the sound with my magic so that the creatures' attentions will be drawn from the innocent denizens of this city (whom they are currently slaughtering).  The Dream reacts to my casting and a chorus from the heavens sings in the second before my spell takes effect.  My plan has worked; all five of the creatures are drawn to us.

_DM note: the dwarves, by the way, did not seem to understand the purpose of attracting their attention.  I guess they’re not extraordinarily heroic…_

We can see as they approach that the Nightmare-creatures have no eyes.  That does not stop them from seeing us, however.  The creatures close and lunge at us, one facing each of us.  Drunken Dwarf Snores manages to mangle one of the creatures while it is still in the air with his dwarven war axe.  It falls to the ground and taints the street with its waning life-blood.  Orcblood is dealt a heavy blow, but stands through it.  Strong Dwarf Stands swings his massive great axe but can not catch the beast in front of him and Drunk Dwarf leaps forward to quickly dispatch the creature who faces me (I suppose he assumes that I will be too busy casting spells to fight it on my own).  Orcblood backs up and begins to play an uplifting tune on his elaborately designed silver flute.  There must be something magical about it, because the Dream reacts; vague outlines of humanoid forms appear in the air and dance and play along with the music.  Our hearts are lightened and we our spirits are bolstered.  The creature in front of Orcblood covers its ears and attempts to drown out the sound of the flute with his own maddening mumblings.  Passion takes the opportunity to strike her opponent; she attempts two blows with her bo-staff, but lands only one.

I heft my tai-chi sword in both hands and rush the attacker who has hurt Orcblood; I attack with "Around the Comet, the Field Sleeps," but the creature nimbly rolls out of my way.  The creatures that are still standing lash out at us, but the only one to take serious damage is Passion.  The blow that stains her beautiful otherworldly features with a deep crimson dye is a solid one.  Orcblood backs up again and changes his tune.  The vague outlines of the Dream around him adjust to the new melody.  Strong Dwarf swings again at his assailant, but is once again unsuccessful.  Drunken Dwarf flanks Passion's creature and, between the two of them, the beast is quickly felled.

The first of the creatures finally dies, and a wave of sickness and unhealth bathes us as the Dream collects the spirits of the Nightmares.  There are still two creatures standing, so I again attack the one in front of Orcblood, this time using "Rolling Butterfly Attack," and cut a nasty gash through the center of the monster with a sharp "ki-ya!"

_DM note: *that* critical was more than 4 points!_

Strong Dwarf Stands finally connects with the beast in front of him and our fight is brought to an end.

_DM note: watching Strong Dwarf Stands roll poorly so many times in a row was kind of funny._

Night Softly Calls approaches.  She begins to suspect that these creatures are responsible for the mutilations in the South Ward, rather than the ratlings.  The Dwarves tell Night what we know about "the Blessed," which is very little, and about the drunken guard, whom we suspect has accepted bribery.  In return, she gives us a note and tells us to contact her in the Guard's Barracks should we come across any more relevant information.

Now we must decide what to do.  The creatures have obviously come from the south, for there is a trail of destruction winding toward this spot from that direction.  We feel that we should rest before we hunt them down and decide, for some reason, that it would be better to track the creatures at night.  We go back to our inn and sleep until late in the night.

When we wake up, it is winter again.  We head toward the South Ward in a blizzard; I am on the orcblood's shoulders.  There are no tracks at first, but when we enter the South Ward, we find large, clawed footprints scattering in many directions.  Further on, we begin to see that some of the tracks are nearly obliterated by large tracks of dragged objects, each staining the rosy oceanlit snow with a sharper red.  They appear to be converging on one particular boarded warehouse.

_--Fighting Man Dances_


_DM notes: noteable moments—this session was a very short one, to the dismay to all participants, but an intriguing one, nonetheless.  The players were disappointed that their fight with the creatures was too easy.  That’s a complaint I’m not used to!  Also, they were not happy with the cliffhanger that I ended the session on.

*Passion Readily Follows* is a bamboo spirit folk who was played by a guest player.  She is a Ranger4.

*Dashing Orcblood Croons* is an orcblood (half-orc) Bard4.  He is played by a new player (who is female) who is an excellent artist (I’m trying to trick her into doing some character sketches, as a matter of fact).  It was very humorous to see the very foppish half-orc played off of the overly-manly dwarves.

*Strong Dwarf Stands* is still an uncharismatic dwarven barbarian.  Nothing new, here.  Dashing Orcblood Croons seemed particularly attracted to Strong, so the tension was very nice.

*Drunken Dwarf Snores* is still an uncharismatic dwarven fighter.  Nothing new, here.  Dashing Orcblood Croons seemed particularly attracted to Drunken Dwarf, so the tension was very nice.

*Fighting Man Dances* was very happy to finally get a chance to use some monkish martial arts.  The names for the moves, by the way, came from the generator in a recent Dragon Magazine.  I also must congratulate the player of the halfling for managing to take good notes while roleplaying his character so well._


----------



## Rune (Jan 25, 2002)

*Whew...*

Well, I finally got caught up!  Now if only I could manage to make the next game happen, we'll be doing alright...

By the way, for those of you interested, the player of Ocean Deeply Sleeps (and the usual author of these write-ups) has not been present for the last couple of sessions (and may miss one or two more sessions) because she has been very busy working on her novel so she can have something to send to publishers before a depletion of funds forces her back into the paying work-force.

...And one more thing:

If anyone reading this storyhour would like to leave some feedback, you are more than welcomed to do so!  I'd love to see your ideas, tips, and responses (although if you have really evil ideas, it would be better if you emailed me instead of posting them).

Thanks, and have fun!


----------



## Broccli_Head (Jan 25, 2002)

Love the two new characters! Especially the Dashing Orc. 
do I get bonus points since I was already caught up? 

When is the next session and hence the next post?


----------



## Rune (Jan 30, 2002)

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *Love the two new characters! Especially the Dashing Orc.
> do I get bonus points since I was already caught up?
> 
> When is the next session and hence the next post? *




Next session is Thursday, and yes, you do get bonus points.

Also, I want to pimp out the storyhour for a game I'm playing in (and will be writing (but not posting) the logs for.  It's called Forgotten Realms: Mystery of the Maps.

Now, don't start thinking that I'm a Realms convert because of this...It's a fun game, is all...


----------



## Rune (Feb 1, 2002)

*Just ran a session all night long!*

...with the three players who showed up, so look for an update (or a batch of updates) soon!

And while I'm at it, here's a quick quiz to tease you with:

_Why don't they just burn it down?

Which character(s) doesn't(don't) make it?

What's up?

Hey, where'd the dwarves go?

What's with the tiger on the ceiling?

What unfamiliar face is this, returned to haunt us?

But who would want to kidnap a shaman?

When did insects become our friends?

Is a frontal assault the wisest option?_


----------



## Broccli_Head (Feb 1, 2002)

*Answers:*

1. Immune to fire?
2. The orc? too bad Dashing  
3. Whatever it is, it has to come down eventually...
4. Underground?
5. Is he grinning  
6. That character who died and was raised and ran away. I forgot his name
7. The dwarves...they're mean
8. When they eat spiders?
9. Never...even if you're fighting kobolds!


----------



## Rune (Feb 1, 2002)

*Re: Answers:*



			
				Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *1. Immune to fire?*



Certainly not.


> *2. The orc? too bad Dashing  *



No.


> *3. Whatever it is, it has to come down eventually...*



Unfortunately all too true...


> *4. Underground?*



Not this time.


> *5. Is he grinning  *



No...er..._she_...isn't.


> *6. That character who died and was raised and ran away. I forgot his name*



Intelligent Chameleon Survives.  No comment on this one.


> *7. The dwarves...they're mean*



They're not _that_ mean!


> *8. When they eat spiders?*



Close, but not quite.


> *9. Never...even if you're fighting kobolds! *



Quite right!


----------



## Rune (Feb 1, 2002)

*Exciting news!*

I'm working with Jaldaen on a project.  Go here to find out what!


----------



## Tokiwong (Feb 3, 2002)

*You is Evil.... I like it*

Converted to Forgotten Realms eh... sweet gonna have to check out that storyhour... this one as well never dissapoints... never!


----------



## Bianca MarOu (Feb 4, 2002)

*Imanent Death of an Evil DM*

Oh, I should kill him.  We stayed up for three sessions worth and I'm sure that the only reason Dashing made it was because I was responsible for notes (I'm his disgruntled player, you see).

So when he goes and post twenty pages of foppish orc observation, remember that it was his fault and not mine for keeping me awake that entire time.

 And thanks for your support Mr. Broccli type person.  The dwarves hate my poor Dashing.  If it wasn't for Rune not appreciating inter-party conflict, he'd probably be dead.

I'll try to have some sketches of the characters done (tricking my @$$, he's practically begging for them), and if anyone's interested, some drawings of some of my other characters or original work.


----------



## Broccli_Head (Feb 5, 2002)

*Re: Imanent Death of an Evil DM*

*



 And thanks for your support Mr. Broccli type person.  The dwarves hate my poor Dashing.  If it wasn't for Rune not appreciating inter-party conflict, he'd probably be dead.

I'll try to have some sketches of the characters done (tricking my @$$, he's practically begging for them), and if anyone's interested, some drawings of some of my other characters or original work.
		
Click to expand...


*
You're welcome! Along with the skecthes, how about a stat block for big D!


----------



## Flying Monkey Style (Feb 11, 2002)

Yup.  That was a long one.  We didn't even have time to finish that session.  But it was really cool.  On top of that, I suspect, a new mechanic (mine, I might add) is about to be introduced.  Oh, I play the halfling, by the way   And people don't understand why I love halflings.  Oh well...


----------



## Tokiwong (Feb 27, 2002)

*BUMP!*

Weeeehah... I get to bump... there you go Rune... summoned back from the depths of the third page...


----------



## Rune (Feb 27, 2002)

Thanks for the summons, Tokiwong!  I hope to be able to update, soon!  Really!


----------



## Broccli_Head (Mar 5, 2002)

Rune said:
			
		

> *Thanks for the summons, Tokiwong!  I hope to be able to update, soon!  Really! *




You better update, and soon!


----------



## Rune (Mar 6, 2002)

Technical difficulty, folk.  The author keeps emailing me the story and I keep not receiving the email.  We're trying, though.  I promise!


----------



## Rune (Mar 11, 2002)

_*Ocean Deeply Sleeps’ player could not be present for this session. Session 7 is written by the author of Dashing Orcblood Croons and is written from his point of view. I have edited slightly. *_

Session 7, part 1

It is midnight in the rose season.  Normally this exquisite time of year fills my heart with romantic moods as the oceanlight bathes all in its ruby sheen, but tonight is different.  I accompany my good friend Passion as she and her comrades track the deeper red trails left in the drifting snow and I find it does not inspire me as it should.

These tracks belong to some humanoids, clawed.  I am definitely no tracker (I have never dirtied my hands in the practice), but I would not be astounded in the least to discover that these tracks were made by the vile vermin that assaulted those poor civilians yesterday.

There is a large warehouse before us that the tracks lead to.  Unintelligent villains they must be; they can not even be inventive in picking their hiding places.  The front door is haphazardly boarded up in _such_ stereotypical fashion.  I should not complain, though.  We could have been led into the foul of the sewers.

The dwarf who I have come to know as Drunken Dwarf Snores peeks into a window curiously.  He returns to us, informing all that there are at least three of those heinous abominations inside.  I feel a sense of urgency in my stomach, but I keep my concerns to myself.  Oh, I admit it, I do complain some, but the dwarves are so confident in their abilities that such strength must by a contagion.

The halfling’s monkey, darling and intelligent animal that it is, has scuttled into the building and appears to be sending him messages.  The look of concern on the small monk’s face tugs at my heart.  Something must have gone terribly awry in there.

We take offensive positions at the front door, preparing to do battle (my flute is at the ready, as is my rapier) and Drunken Dwarf Snores fells the blocked entrance, shouting to the monkey, “Hey furry thing!  Come on out here, boy!”  I am impressed with his concern toward the animal.  Despite his uncouth appearance, he really is a sensitive man.

Immediately, an unnatural darkness floods the warehouse.  Not even the dwarves or I can see through it.  Our ears are assaulted by that damnable gibbering once again.  The dwarves, rather than entering, begin throwing snowballs inside and shouting, “Come on out you hairy little buggers!”  The creatures never looked that small to me, but I suppose the dwarves are entitled to their opinions.

I lift my flute to my lips and start to play a song of encouragement.  I don’t condone violence, but there are people’s lives at stake.  Before I can begin to play, however, Strong Dwarf Stands and Drunken Dwarf Snores knock the flute away.  Really now!  They should have more appreciation for music!

Finally, Fighting Man Dances is able to make some sense of his monkey's mental ramblings.  Apparently, there are two humans inside, alive and wounded.  Hostages?  The halfling insists that we have to go in and save them.  In truth, I would rather not, if I could avoid it.  Looking into the impenetrably deep darkness conjures the most awful images into the imagination.

_DM note: I kept passing notes to the player of the halfling which said, "Two.  Not dead."  He kept not understanding.  "What, undead?"_

Drunken Dwarf draws his plan of attack in the snow.  I am not listening too terribly closely to the _details_, but I am sure that he tells Passion to take a side, and then he tells me to take a side, then the end, and then the side again, then to run left?  I wish he could make up his mind!  He tells his brother and the monk to run with him up the middle, wrapping up his directions and we boldly proceed.

Have you got that?  Good.

_DM note: the author informs me that my editing of the above portion of the story (Dashing Orcblood's account of the Dwarven tactical planning session) does not accurately portray the spirit of the moment; this portion of the story may be altered in the future._

We begin to take notice that there has been very few reality shifts that we’ve grown so accustomed to, which is somewhat odd, as we are sure they are using magic.  I hear a shriek from a familiar voice as a poisonous sting hits my dear Passion.

_DM note: remember that poison that almost killed the halfling at the party? (He was down to 1 Constitution).  Same stuff._

I start to play on my flute, play as loud as my lungs will allow, in hopes that I will distract our unseen enemies as we plunge through the unfathomable darkness.  I can hear Strong Dwarf Stands cursing loudly.  He must be raging.  The monk is calling for his monkey and I hear him get hit as well.  The poor child must be in a great deal of pain.  Whatever do these dwarves run around with a child of that size for, anyway?  It could be dangerous!

The dwarves shout that there is an end to the darkness.  I just need to keep pushing ahead.  I hope Passion and the halfling make it out as well.

As I emerge from the inky darkness I see that these were indeed those atrocious things from the fair.  A wave of nausea rolls over us.  The Dream is reacting to something's death.  I attempt to account for every one of our troupe.  The dwarves are here.  The halfling is here.  Passion is...not.

There are simple crates all around, stacked high toward the ceiling like wooden mountains.  Above the crates is a lift, the berg of the mountain.

Fighting Man Dances attempts his “Leap of the Dancing Frog”, but it fails so miserably that the dwarves laugh at him.  I don’t see how they can be amused at a time like this with death so close about them.  But it is not inconceivable.  After all, they are just dwarves.

The dwarven brothers attack two of the creatures that poor out of the darkness while the halfling uses his “Flying Monkey Style” attack to obliterate another.  Yet another tries to trounce him, but misses due to the monk’s artful dodge.

The precious little monk climbs the wall of crates and looks as regal as an emperor atop the wall.  The moment is ended, however, when something leaps down from the ceiling beside him and lands a terrible blow.  It is another one of those bestial creatures, but this one is more fluid in movement.  And apparently, it can walk on the ceiling.

_DM note: "Roll a Spot check...heh heh heh."_

The dwarves scuttle up the crates, but only Drunken Dwarf Snores is limber enough to make it to the top.  My lungs hurt from playing my flute for so long.  I have to halt.

Drunken Dwarf and the halfling flank the creature on the narrow ledge of crates, but it nimbly leaps onto the wall, runs onto the ceiling, and scurries into the darkness.  Drunken Dwarf fires his crossbow into the darkness uselessly.  At least one can appreciate the effort.

Fighting Man Dances finds the injured victims, apparently very well bandaged by his amazing simian sidekick.  I am truly impressed.

Strangely, a tiger has emerged from the darkness.  Even more perplexing, the odd creature is strolling on the ceiling.  The dwarves take aim with their crossbows.

I should not have been too enthralled with this enigma, for I have been hit by one of the creatures, and I am forced to back down and attempt to heal myself.

From inside the darkness, we can hear chanting.  The entire room is filling with a sinking mist.  Now, we are blind in all parts of the building.  Drunken Dwarf leaves his high perch to help the monk and the monkey save the victims, which is quite a noble undertaking for the warrior, if you ask me.

When he has finished this task, the dwarf rejoins his brother and they barge into the darkness.  I hear screams of agony and pain in the darkness.  I am confused, utterly bewildered.  Another wave of nausea surges all around me.  I shudder to think what has happened.  There is another blackness, but this one is coming toward me.  I feel _so_ tired.  I need to rest.  I must succumb to the darkness...

_DM note: at this point, actually, there was a *very* big death-related reality shift which brought both Fighting Man Dances and Dashing Orcblood Croons to the edge of unconsciousness (0 hit points).  Actually, Orcblood may have been below 0._


----------



## Tokiwong (Mar 12, 2002)

*Bout Time!*

Weeehah.... time for more Dreaming... anyways glad to see the back... look forward to more... I like Monkeys...


----------



## Broccli_Head (Mar 13, 2002)

Things do not look well for our heroes. When do we find out what happened?


----------



## Rune (Mar 14, 2002)

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *Things do not look well for our heroes. When do we find out what happened? *




All too soon...Muahahahaha!

Okay, here's a quiz, to hold you off (based on memory, which may be fuzzy and inaccurate):

_What would a *tiger* be doing on the ceiling?

Where'd those dirty dwarves get off to, anyway?

Who was that masked man?

Didn't that bookstore look different the last time they were there?

Did that crafty little halfling just come up with a non-fire related idea?

"Why can't we retreat, again?"

Are our heroes in over their heads?_


----------



## wsclark (Mar 14, 2002)

Rune said:
			
		

> *
> 
> All too soon...Muahahahaha!
> 
> Okay, here's a quiz, to hold you off (based on memory, which may be fuzzy and inaccurate):*




Ok.



> *What would a tiger be doing on the ceiling?*




Something scared it?



> *Where'd those dirty dwarves get off to, anyway?*




A public bath house?



> *Who was that masked man?*




The city garbage sweeper?



> *Didn't that bookstore look different the last time they were there?*




Yes, and the time before that, and the time before that, and...



> *Did that crafty little halfling just come up with a non-fire related idea?*




No way, it's just subtle misdirection.



> *"Why can't we retreat, again?"*




Retreating is for whimps.



> *Are our heroes in over their heads?*




Always.


----------



## wsclark (Mar 14, 2002)

*Seriously*

Rune,

Just want to let you know that I am keeping tabs on you story hour. It is really enjoyable to see this much creativity put into a world and it seems the players are adjusting to it just fine. Looking forward to more, and soon


----------



## Rune (Mar 14, 2002)

*Re: Seriously*



			
				wsclark said:
			
		

> *Rune,
> 
> Just want to let you know that I am keeping tabs on you story hour. It is really enjoyable to see this much creativity put into a world and it seems the players are adjusting to it just fine. Looking forward to more, and soon  *




Thanks!  I'll pass the praise along to the players (and authors).  Hang in there, more's coming.

Oh, and by the way, your first three answers are absolutely wrong.


----------



## Rune (Mar 20, 2002)

Wow!  We just finished a game (at around 3:30 AM) and it was good fun!  We _finallly_ dipped into horror a little bit!

The write-up will come after the rest of the last session, but here's a quick quiz to drive you all insane:

_Who is the last person the party would expect to show up to help them at this point?  Does this person show up to help them?

What killed all of these cabalists?  And that gibbering monster?

What is that horrible rotting smell?

Where are those footsteps coming from?

Where'd the room go?

What is that horrible rotting smell?

Who's in charge of starting the fire this time?_


----------



## rootbeergnome (Mar 21, 2002)

Finally we begin again.  We havent played in a while, due to no fault of Rune's.  I played a guest character since my dwarf dissapeared while i was gone.  I guess that's what i deserve for missing so many sessions.  But Im back and staying this time, Rune is going to be playing in one of my games so if i dont come to his im sure he will return the favor.  Last game was creepy, Rune really can do horror well, at one point in the night the player of Dashing grabbed Fighting man dances player and everyone jumped and screamed.  I was in the bathroom and heard everyone, i was yelling "What happened what happened?!"  It was great.  Im poking Rune right now to post the session, but he has to get the notes first   Well, it's good to be back, and check out my storyhour if i ever get around to posting it.


----------



## Rune (Mar 22, 2002)

rootbeergnome said:
			
		

> *Rune is going to be playing in one of my games so if i dont come to his im sure he will return the favor.*




Actually, I've helped him with the creation of the basics of it, and if it bears some similarities with The Sunderer's (known on the old boards as Monkey-Trained-to-Type) Sundered Sky setting, it's probably no coincidence!



> *Last game was creepy, Rune really can do horror well, at one point in the night the player of Dashing grabbed Fighting man dances player and everyone jumped and screamed.  I was in the bathroom and heard everyone, i was yelling "What happened what happened?!"  It was great. *




The player of Dashing Orcblood Croons (the girlfriend of the player Fighting Man Dances) could not make it to the game, by the way.  She showed up later, near the end (at which point she delighted in scaring the crap out of the player of Fighting Man Dances repeatedly), but didn't play.  Except for that one scene at the end.


----------



## rootbeergnome (Apr 3, 2002)

Last night's session was kind of short for me, I had to leave about an hour early unfortunately.  But I had some...deja-vu in the game last night, I'm trying not to say too much to ruin it.  Rune is still trying to get the notes from the session before last i think, they should be caned for keeping the notes from him!  Oh and Rune was in the first session of my Seas of Fire Campaign tonight, we are going to start a thread tonight for it, keep bugging Rune for an update on the Runic storyhour!
-Mike


----------



## Rune (Apr 3, 2002)

Well, this is not an update, but I figured I'd try to spark some conversation while we wait for the appatizers to arrive.

On the old boards, Broccli_head wondered how the Dream would react to the presence of undead, given it's peculiar reactions to birth and death.

You'll find out soon.  The party already has.

Anyone care to speculate?

P.S: By the way, I will say just one thing about our last session: I'm pretty sure James Wyatt is on crack.


----------



## rootbeergnome (Apr 3, 2002)

I will have to agree with Rune on the James Wyatt crack speculation, he is a indeed a madman!  I have felt the full force of his madness, and he has helped Rune be a Rat-Bastard!  Please get the notes and post here soon!  Can't...stay....quiet...much...longer.


----------



## Rune (Apr 11, 2002)

*The following portions of Session 7 is recreated from the player of Dashing Orcblood Croons’ copious notes.  The original story seems to have been irrevocably lost.  I have edited the many detailed notes of the player.  In addition, I may edit these portions of the session again in the future, if the author informs me that I have got something wrong.  These portions of Session 7 are still written from the point of view of Dashing Orcblood Croons.*

Session 7, part 2

When I wake up, the little halfling’s little monkey is perched atop my chest.  I am too weak to move.

I can see a man approach the back of the warehouse and walk over to a small chest.  He opens it and rummages through it.  The darling little halfling seems to vaguely recognize the man, but I am certain that I have never laid eyes upon him.  The poor little one seems to be too weak to move, as well.  We are at the mercy of this strange man!

The tiger that climbs down from the ceiling seems to belong to this man, although there is a palpable sense of tension between the two.  There is something strange about that tiger…

This man, whom the halfling calls Intelligent Chameleon Survives, seems an utterly dispassionate sort.  Even his tiger can’t seem to stand him and leaves the warehouse.  Fighting Man Dances sends his little monkey after the tiger.  What a brave little monkey!

_DM note: the tiger is actually Chameleon's familiar.  It's actually celestial (Remember the ring of spiders around the tiger cub in the second session?  It wasn't just foreshadowing), which means it is Lawful Good.  Which is funny, because Chameleon is very much Chaotic Neutral.  For most of this session, the tiger was mad at Chameleon and kept "not talking to him."  For some reason, the player of Chameleon keeps insisting that familiers should "obey" their "masters," just because they are supposed to "serve" them.  Feh._

Chameleon seems distraught over the disappearance of his tiger, but Fighting Man Dances tells him that his adorable little monkey has followed the beast to a temple of some sort.  When the two creatures return, some time later, the tiger has some sort of stick in its mouth.  Fighting Monkey Dances is hopping up and down, making impatient monkey sounds.  In a moment, we know why; the halfling’s precious little voice rings out in alarm: "Someone has been stolen from the temple!"  Oh dear.

The tiger taps me with the end of it’s stick and I feel a sensation of unparalleled euphoria shoot up and down my spine.  I am healed!  This stick is a miracle stick!  The tiger seems to want me to keep the stick and use it.  I have my concerns, because, after all, the tiger undoubtedly stole the stick from the temple.  I feel a thrill of danger at the thought of possessing this holy item unlawfully.  I feel I should faint!

_DM notes: actually, Chameleon kept chastising his Lawful Good familiar for this act.  I don't know why he assumes that the tiger didn't ask for it. _

I tap the wand on the young halfling and feel a jolt of energy flow from my heart, through my arm, into the stick, and, finally, into the poor boy.  He is up and about in no time.  I perform the same ritual on the two hostages.

Then we find out the bad news.

Passion Readily Follows is very, very dead.  Her body is bloated, withered, and otherwise prematurely decomposing.  The dwarves are gone.  They have simply vanished, along with the body of assassin, whom they slayed.  Those unfortunate, adorable dwarves are simply nowhere to be found.  I am nearly heartbroken.

The monkey once again insists, vicariously through his halfling, that there is a "stolen person" in the temple.

It looks like that is where we are headed.  Chameleon, bless that beautiful man, lifts up my dead friend Passion and bears her over his shoulder.  I carry the halfling on my own shoulders.  The monkey rides on top of the tiger; they make such a cute pair!

The temple is not the Shugenja temple in the northern part of the city, but a small shaman’s temple in the west.  There is an unconscious woman curled up at the foot of the alter; judging by her attire, I would hazard a guess that she is a sohei, guardian of the temple.  She is hurt, so I run over and tap her with my miracle stick.  She wakes up and frantically looks around, saying in a rush of breathless words that the "workers of madness" took her superior.  The said something about "the Blessed," that "they hear the voice of dreams," and that "the sound of gongs would signal the end of time."  This woman is _so_ morbid, I could just scream!

The sohei is named Waterfall Softly Runs.  She is adamant about seeking out her superior and we are content to help her; perhaps, in doing so, we may ease the troubled soul of our newly departed friend.  The tiger hunts by scent, but the trail ends abruptly in the center of the street.  Something strange is afoot.

_DM note: I'll have to look up my notes before I update the NPC list.  Waterfall Softly Runs may actually be the name of the shaman, not the sohei._

All around us, the air seems to shimmer, the sky rips open, and three creatures, each larger than the small houses on either side of the street, looking vaguely like worms crawl out.  They have translucent skin and many organs can be made out just under the outer layer.

Out of the corner of his eye, our lovely little halfling spots a humanoid figure on the rooftop of a nearby house.  His monkey is already chasing it.  The worm-creatures are large and mean, but they are certainly slow.  We have plenty of time to shout warnings to all of the inhabitants on the street and to pelt the creatures, one at a time, with arrows, bolts, and fire.

_DM note: fire?  Of course, fire!_

I think this is the perfect time for an inspiring song and, for once, I am allowed to play my flute in peace.  The music is so lovely.

As the first of the worm-monsters comes close, I stop playing my song and begin to sing a little spell that I’ve picked up somewhere over the years.  The dream flinches in disgust, but I summon a swarm of tiny insects, which crawl all over the worm, and leave nothing of it when they move on.

We make short order of the other two worms in like fashion (one we hack up after Chameleon manages to paralyze it, somehow).  Each time, the air around the creatures splits apart and swallows the beasts.  They are _so_ icky.

_DM note: that *Summon Swarm* spell took me by suprise.  It sure was cool, though!_


----------



## Rune (Apr 11, 2002)

Session 7, part 3

The monkey is still gone, but has headed toward the bookstore.  So do we.  After a short time, the tiger growls, smelling an unnatural madness.  This is "The Reality Wrinkle."  The front door is locked, but that does not keep Chameleon from opening the door.  Inside, a startled man looks up.  He clearly is not completely sane.  He is drooling a bit and has a look of lunacy in his eyes.  The tiger growls.

"Might I inquire of you why you have come to this store at this early hour of the night?"

Chameleon responds, "This is the time when I usually read."

"If there is anything you like, then we would be happy to sell to you."

"What types of books do you have here?"

The insane little man excuses himself for a moment and enters the back room, ducking quickly behind a beaded curtain which strongly resembles a mass of black tentacles.  In the meantime, our adorable little halfling fidgets with a large book, obviously containing "secrets that halflings are not meant to know."  He is clearly struggling to keep from opening the cover.  In the end, his common sense prevails and the book is returned to a shelf.  When the mousy little madman returns, we detain him and Chameleon magically changes his features to match those of the man—all without bothering the Dream.  How does he manage that?  I start to play a song again, just because the situation warrants it.  The unbalanced shopkeeper, bless his heart, knows the value of a good tune; he is entirely _fascinated_!  The shadows on the wall appear to dance in time with my song, as the Dream joins in.

Chameleon, in disguise, enters the next room and sees two men, obviously irrevocably insane, ranting and playing mahjong.  There is an insane gibbering, unlike any noise that we have ever encountered, coming from behind a small, misshapen door.

The crazy men cannot sleep.  They talk of the Blessed and of strange dream-messages from some "Speaker in Dreams" that make sleep uncomfortable.  Naturally, Chameleon opens the door for a brief moment, then slams it shut.

Inside is a creature unlike anything that has ever come from the nightmare.  It is eyes and mouths and teeth, but most of all, it is an unbearable assortment of unnatural sounds.  Only, we do somehow manage to bear it.  The two men at the table are not so lucky.  Their troubled minds can take no more torment and they violently snap, assaulting each other and subduing each other into unconsciousness.  That was convenient.  It is when we hear the unmistakable sound of many footsteps on the staircase that we opt to retreat.  Wisely, in my opinion.

_DM note: this was actually a pretty funny, if abysmally safe encounter._

But before we go, the halfling has to get one last blow in.  As we are leaving, he uses a minor magick to conjure a vaguely visible wispy hand (causing the Dream to stir, a bit, but ultimately ignore us) and open the door of the closet containing the gibbering monster.

We are content to write the whole expedition off as a failure, but unfortunately, Waterfall is still with us and insists that we must go back in to save her superior.  If we will not, then she will go alone.

Drat that woman!

_--Dashing Orcblood Croons_

_DM note: notable moments--this game lasted until 8 in the morning.  By the time we quit, our brave note-taker (and author) was barely conscious and in danger of an epileptic fit.  I could have gone on for hours.  As a result the final page or two of notes is somewhat sketchy in comparison to the other ten.

*Dashing Orcblood Croons* is what all half-orcs should aspire to be (although, there's no inter-racial breeding in my game, the stats are the same)!  I needed a pseudo European, lace-and-ruffles wearing, "foreign devil" kind of culture somewhere.  I decided that half-orcs would be perfect.  It can be assumed that they came from the other side of the ocean (in the sky, remember) at some point, but no one really remembers.  But then again, memory is a fleeting thing in the Dream, anyway.

*Intelligent Chameleon Survives* is back!  He's a very charismatic, outspoken character, a natural leader.  He's also always arguing with his tiger (seems a lot like Fras, from (Contact)'s games, doesn't it?  Well, if you're going to steal, steal from the best!)

*Fighting Man Dances* is a crafty little pyromaniac, isn't he?  It didn't take the player long to realize that he wasn't playing a Lawful Neutral, and change the little monk to Lawful Good.  That really becomes evident in this session.  In many ways, the halfling is to his monkey what the tiger is to Chameleon.

My favorite moment requires a little bit of out-of-game information.  The player of Chameleon wanted to know if he could share his spells, specifically *Spider Climb*, with his familiar.  I thougth it sounded kind of strange, so I had him look it up.  He could.

At the beginning of the game, he was running the dwarves (the player of Strong Dwarf Stands could not make it to that session).  When the tiger walked out on the ceiling, the player had a look of malice (which he denies, to this day) as he caught a glimpse of the depths of my evil DM soul and readied the dwarves' crossbows to fire at his other character's familiar.  He asked for it._


----------



## Rune (Apr 12, 2002)

DM notes added to Session 7.


----------



## Broccli_Head (Apr 12, 2002)

What  happened to Ocean?


----------



## Rune (Apr 12, 2002)

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *What  happened to Ocean? *




The player has been kept busy for a number of reasons, primarily the writing of her novel & her collection of essays.  She just doesn't have the time to spend on these "hobby" things that us younger whelps do.  And, unfortunately, she is moving away in the Summer.  

We may see from her a couple more times, yet, though!

The character was swept away in the crowd at the party.  Perhaps she went home to her five-year-old son.  Perhaps she became a servant of House Dragon (riiiiight).  Perhaps she just faded away, as people in dreams tend to do when you're not thinking about them.


----------



## Rune (May 30, 2002)

I will update very soon.

Now, *it is written in stone*.

PS-Sorry for the delay, but we have to piece the notes together from rapidly fading memories.

Too bad, too.  Detail was particularly important in this one.


Ah, well...


----------



## jaldaen (May 31, 2002)

Hey Rune,

How are things going? Good to see you posting on the story hour again ;-)

Jaldaen

PS: I haven't heard anything back yet, but will be checking in with "the man" tomorrow ;-)


----------



## whydirt (May 31, 2002)

Great work Rune!  Your campaign seems great and your players seem to also do very well in writing the story hour entries.  Any chance you could post the PC's in the rogues gallery at some point?


----------



## Broccli_Head (Jun 4, 2002)

Hey! i just posted after 2-3 wks of being lazy....When's it gonna be your turn!


----------



## Rune (Jun 5, 2002)

Sorry for the continued delay, folk, but I'm a wee bit busy with the Iron DM contest (I'm advancing to the second round!  Woohoo!) at the moment.

In the meantime, I'll repost the quiz relevant to the next update:



			
				Rune said:
			
		

> *
> Who is the last person the party would expect to show up to help them at this point?  Does this person show up to help them?
> 
> What killed all of these cabalists?  And that gibbering monster?
> ...


----------



## Rune (Jun 5, 2002)

jaldaen said:
			
		

> *PS: I haven't heard anything back yet, but will be checking in with "the man" tomorrow ;-) *




By the way, for those of you who may be confused by this little bit of unrelated information, I remind you that some time ago, jaldaen and I teamed up to work on his dream-setting, Nevermore.

And, lest you be deceived, "the man" isn't Chris Pramis.


----------



## Rune (Jun 7, 2002)

[edit]I'm advancing to the _final_ round (against last year's champion, Vaxalon) in the Iron DM tournament, folk.  It'll just be a little while longer...


----------



## Bianca MarOu (Jun 13, 2002)

Rune said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Actually, I've helped him with the creation of the basics of it, and if it bears some similarities with The Sunderer's (known on the old boards as Monkey-Trained-to-Type) Sundered Sky setting, it's probably no coincidense!
> 
> ...




The scaring... except for the last one, was completely unintentional.  (The last one not only got Fighting man dances, but Rune and Chameleon as well, because I ambushed from behind Chameleon's chair)  Overall it was Rune's doing to have the PCs on the edge of their seats.  I just inadvertantly took advantage of the situation.


----------



## Rune (Aug 27, 2002)

I've just posted a couple of pictures of my interpretation of Ocean Deeply Sleeps in mourning in the Art gallery.  You'll have to scroll down 9 or 10 posts.

The first is in color.  The second is the same thing, but in grayscale, since it was during the Black & White season.

Hope y'all enjoy.


----------



## jaldaen (Aug 30, 2002)

Hey Rune,

     Just a quick question for you... Have you been having trouble receiving emails from the project group or my addy? You've been silent for awhile and I was just wondering if everything was okay on your end.

Thanks,
Joseph


----------



## Esiminar (Sep 5, 2002)

This is the most original and inovative way I have seen this world concept pulled off.

Well Done!

P.S. Another update would be nice  .


----------



## Rune (Sep 7, 2002)

_DM Note: All of the updates, from now on, will be narrated in the voice of Ageless Spirit Watches (unless otherwise noted), an NPC who has not yet made his appearance in the game, but with whom one of the PCs has most certainly interacted.

The role of Ageless Spirit Watches will become clearer as the story unfolds.

This, of course, means that I have taken over the duties as author of this story hour and, unless otherwise noted, all future installments are my labor.

Times, regretably, change and players come and go.  I have a bit of catching up to do, but I can tell you that as of this date, some of the players have moved away and will not be rejoining the game, save as guest characters.

These include the player of Ocean, the player of Chameleon and Drunken Dwarf, and the player of Swift and Strong Dwarf (although we hope to get him back by January).

I shall introduce new players as their characters are introduced into the story hour.  Thank you all for your patience; I hope you enjoy your stay in The Dream as much as I've enjoyed inflicting it upon you!_


----------



## Rune (Sep 7, 2002)

Session 8, part 1

The Dream reacts.  The Heroes' stomachs sink and turn upon themselves as The Dream shifts reality around several deaths--or one more noticeable death.

And so, as destiny hangs in the balance and the path of future events might still be avoided, fortune begins to sour for the Heroes of the Night of Spiders.  Waterfall does not wait for the group to answer her before she opens the door and rushes in.

By the time the Heroes re-enter the building and pass through the beaded veil separating the main rooms of the floor, Waterfall is nowhere to be seen.

All that can be seen, as a matter of fact, are the lacerated bodies of the two cabalists and...the remains of the insanity-inducing creature.  Whatever killed it is still hiding in the impossible dimensions of this unreal building.

Chunks of the rubbery creature slide down the walls as the Heroes creep forward, ever wary.  Not a sound can be heard, save their own labored breath and rapid hearts.  An intricately ornamented three-part screen, once shielding the stairway from view, is now tattered and lies in fragments on the floor.

The Heroes note that they can still feel the despair and hopeless nausea of the death-shift of The Dream.  It has not subsided and, if anything, grows stronger as they approach the stairway.  Nevertheless, they do approach the stairway, for what other options present themselves, at this point?

Once upon the threshold, they listen intently for any indication of which direction Waterfall has proceeded--up or down.  They can, it seems, make out the faint hint of footsteps, but their origin is lost in the echoes of the spiraling stair.

The tiger is growling continually and even the monkey is subdued.  This is no surprise to their masters, for the feeling of death is gnawing ever at them all.  If they stare at an object long enough, they can even see that it seems to decay before their very eyes, slowly, so slowly that it might be no more than imagination.

In the end, they must choose one direction, or split the party.  Wisely, one is tempted to assume, they choose not to divide the party, preferring, rather, to face whatever evil awaits them together.

They go up.


----------



## Rune (Sep 12, 2002)

Session 8, part 2

The stairway twists ahead of the Heroes, visibly writhing; despite the Heroes' desperate attempt to remain grounded in reality, it is squirming away from them.  Somewhere above--or below--them, the echoes of footsteps subtly dance through their heads.  

Abruptly, the spiraling staircase opens up into a large room--far larger than the building that houses it-- that trails off into darkness.  A pale luminance plays on the walls; they are glowing softly in patterns vaguely reminiscent of tentacles.

Before they can move on, they distinctly hear the sounds of someone climbing the stairs behind them--in a hurry.  They have no time to react before the entity is upon them.

Dashing Orcblood Croons faints with a short shriek.

A vague memory of fire and strife flits through Fighting Man Dances' head, but refuses to fully surface.  Ultimately, the halfling must offer it as a sacrifice to time.  Intelligent Chameleon's face is guarded--and his mind unspoken--but his eyes, for but a brief moment, reflect recognition.

The man is clearly surprised to come up behind them stands in shock for a moment, then speaks in elation.

"It has been a long while, friends!  Now I know the meaning of my master's words of prophecy--that I should seek out the house of madness and be welcomed into the arms of the past.  For surely, this is a house of madness and what else could you be but the past?"

Fighting Man Dances' monkey hops up and down on the back of the tiger, but his master still does not recognize the newcomer.

Chameleon holds his tongue, so the man speaks up again.

"Perhaps, little one," he suggests, seeing that the halfling's face is blank, "you do not remember me, but I well remember you."

Fighting Monkey Dances is screaming, now.  The halfling's face is puzzled.  "You tied Monkey to a tree?"

Finally, in exasperation, Chameleon breaks in.  "The halfling remembers half that of a man.  Welcome back, Swift.  Though your presence now is inexplicable to us.  We left your dead body in this flaming city when it perished."

"Surely, you play some joke at my expense!  I have never died.  And this city has clearly never burned to the ground."

Before the group can puzzle out this odd turn of events, Orcblood regains consciousness.  The Heroes determine that the best course of action for the moment might be to send for reinforcements.  Orcblood is directed to seek out Nightfall Softly Calls.

The growl of Chameleon's tiger is still low and the death-nausea discharge of The Dream has not subsided.  Chameleon and the tiger share a wordless conversation and the tiger prowls into the darkness that swallows the far end of the chamber.  Chameleon is not far behind.

Fighting Man Dances and Swift Serpent Strikes stand in uncomfortably dense silence on the stairway and wait.

And wait.

Eventually, they can make out movement in the darkness.  As their hands tighten around their weapons, the forms of a man and a beast take form, striding forward.  Drained faces flush when it becomes clear that these forms are, as hoped, those of Chameleon and the tiger.

"So, is she back there?"

"No.  Nothing is back there."

"Nothing?"

Chameleon's glare is haunting in the pale tile-light.  "Nothing."

They continue to climb the stairs.

At the top level, they are confronted with a single door.  It seems larger, when they stare at it overlong, than the frame in which it stands.  Try as they might, they cannot pry the door open.  In frustration, the Heroes turn their attention away from the door and prepare to descend into the depths of this unnatural bookstore.

Their smoldering silence is interrupted by a long, wailing screech, immediately behind them.  The warriors spin around to fight, only to see that the door has swung out into a lightless void and that the monkey hangs from the door's handle over nothing.

The void is not entirely devoid of objects; various pieces of furniture float by, out of reach, illuminated by some unseen light source.

The stench of rotten flesh wafts through the nothingness and, as the party stares into the void, a bloated, festering corpse speeds toward them.


----------



## Broccli_Head (Sep 12, 2002)

The dream meets the macabre!

What happened to the dwarves, and Ocean? 

what is the cast of characters now?


----------



## Citizen Mane (Sep 24, 2002)

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> *What happened to the dwarves, and Ocean? *




I hope Rune doesn't mind me answering this, but:



> _Originally posted by Rune_
> *Times, regretably, change and players come and go. I have a bit of catching up to do, but I can tell you that as of this date, some of the players have moved away and will not be rejoining the game, save as guest characters.
> 
> These include the player of Ocean, the player of Chameleon and Drunken Dwarf, and the player of Swift and Strong Dwarf (although we hope to get him back by January).*




Hope this helps! 

Best,
tKL


----------



## Rune (Sep 24, 2002)

Thanks for the clarification, Kajamba Lion.

In case Broccli_Head was asking about the characters, however, I'll say a few words.

The dwarves disappeared in the warehouse when the assassin-beast was killed in a death-related reality shift.  The fabric of the Dream ripped open to swallow the body of the assassin and got the dwarves, who were nearby, with it.

The players and PCs assume that they are in the Nightmare.

Killing things.

This, I should note, happened before either of the players moved away.

Ocean, on the other hand, was last seen at the party in honor of the "heroes."  The player had to commit to other priorities in her life (her novel and a book of essays) and felt that her creativity was being tapped by the game when she needed to apply it elsewhere (which, should, I suppose, be flattering).

The character is still very much a part of the world, however, so don't forget about her (as the other PCs surely will-- memory in the Dream being a fleeting thing, you know).  The players and PCs, in fact, don't have a clue what happened to her.  Did she go back to her son?  Did she go off on some other errand?  Was she ever really there to begin with?

If we ever make it to Act III, you may find out.

Also, bear in mind that this story is still about three and a half sessions behind, or so.  A complete lack of notes and a feeble memory has hindered the updating process, but it will be a little while before I can tell you what the current cast of characters is.

Also, in about one and a half sessions, things get strange.  The game...er...starts over, so to speak, with Piratecat's own _Of Sound Mind_.

I've started a seperate thread for it (some time ago, actually), because I'd hate to spoil such a wonderful adventure for people who haven't yet run or played it, but I'll link to it again when the time comes.


----------



## Rune (Sep 27, 2002)

.


----------



## Joshua Randall (Sep 27, 2002)

*Your skill is obvious. I bow to your talents.*

Rune, m'man, I am in *awe*. I've been playing RPGs off and on for 20 years, and I've never played in or GM'd one as distictively different as The Dream. Major kudos.

I am curious. How much of the background buildup did you leave in the hands of your players? For example, did the players of the dwarves and halfling get to decide on the cultural background of those races? Did the players ever get to make up their own reality shifts? Or did you maintain control in the interest of, er, consistency? (If such a word applies.)


----------



## Joshua Randall (Jun 27, 2003)

B-B-B-BUMP.


----------



## Lela (Jul 5, 2003)

New reader wonders about new updates.


----------



## Rune (Jul 5, 2003)

*Re: Your skill is obvious. I bow to your talents.*

Well, I have a lot of hopes and grand ambitions regarding this game, but the problem is that the game fell apart, and I was never (so far) able to pull it back together.  I think using modules was ultimately a bad idea, given the pace that I had hoped to proceed at.

I do have news, however.  I am currently trying to pull in _regular_ players for the renewal of this campaign and _hope_ to be able to start things up again, soon.  On that note, any readers who are in my area (Berea, KY) are welcome to apply for inclusion in the game as players, as long as you're sure you can commit to a weekly game (schedule as yet undetermined).

I have more news, but I don't want to spill it yet.  Let's just say that I'm embarking on a massive project, which will see this story hour (and maybe others in the future) converted to a different format.  It may take a long, long time to do, so we'll see how it goes before I go into detail.

I also have a few very rough concept sketches of the main characters from session 1.  I'm not much of an artist, but I think I'll scan them and attatch them to this thread, anyway.

Now, to answer a question:


			
				Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> *I am curious. How much of the background buildup did you leave in the hands of your players? For example, did the players of the dwarves and halfling get to decide on the cultural background of those races? Did the players ever get to make up their own reality shifts? Or did you maintain control in the interest of, er, consistency? (If such a word applies.) *




I provided guidelines and let them flesh out the rest.  They never got to make up their own reality shifts, although, since I was playtesting the rules, my method of doing them altered from game to game, sometimes.  Likewise, their presentation somewhat shifted through the games.

Oh, and thanks for the compliments!


----------



## Rune (Jul 6, 2003)

Okay, here are some very rough sketches of characters from Session 1.


----------



## Lela (Jul 6, 2003)

*Re: Re: Your skill is obvious. I bow to your talents.*



			
				Rune said:
			
		

> *
> Likewise, their presentation somewhat shifted through the games.
> 
> *




Care to give us an example?


----------



## Gobbletom (Sep 28, 2004)

Hey man!  This is ol' Druken Dwarf trying to catch up with you guys.  I will be in town soon and thinking of getting a group together for a weekend of gaming.  I think RootbeerGnome is up for it too so hit me back.  Gobbletom1@yahoo.com and let me know what's up.  

Talk to you later man.


----------



## Sepulchrave II (Nov 30, 2008)

I wish Rune would come back.


----------



## Joshua Randall (Dec 10, 2008)

Me too.


----------



## Joshua Randall (Nov 19, 2010)

Bumped in honor of Rune.

This is an oldie but a goodie. A very, very goodie.


----------



## doghead (Feb 26, 2013)

Just found this SH. I'm only a few sessions in, but am really enjoying it. I have tried to run a couple of games with an Eastern setting. They were much more conventional. If I have another go (and its something I would like to do), I am now tempted to lean towards something a little more dreamlike, like your setting.

Looking forward to reading the rest.

thotd


----------



## doghead (Mar 1, 2013)

No! It just stops.

Oh well, it was a great read while it lasted. Thank everyone who contributed to the writing of this SH.
 [MENTION=67]Rune[/MENTION] -  I saw you post the other day, so I thought that I would ask in case you wandered back this way. Did you have a table of Reality Shift effects? Were they just random, or did the effect correlate to the cause in some way?

Cheers and once again, thanks for posting.

thotd


----------



## Rune (Mar 1, 2013)

doghead said:


> No! It just stops.
> 
> Oh well, it was a great read while it lasted. Thank everyone who contributed to the writing of this SH.




I was disappointed, too!  My life kind of fell apart for a while right about then.  For a long while I had hopes of getting the game going again, but, as the years went by and I lost contact with most of the players, I had to accept that it was unlikely.  There was a little bit that never got written up, but not very much.

Perhaps, one of these days, I'll get around to adding that bit...



> [MENTION=67]Rune[/MENTION] -  I saw you post the other day, so I thought that I would ask in case you wandered back this way. Did you have a table of Reality Shift effects? Were they just random, or did the effect correlate to the cause in some way?




I did have a random table, at some point, but I didn't restrict myself to its use, particularly if the situation begged for something in particular (like the forest fire).  Also, I usually tried to have Reality Shifts related to death reflect the Dream(er) mourning.

All in all, I consider those earlier attempts at playing in the Dream to have been a little clumsy (although certainly evocative).  Later campaigns have been more subtle.  It took my brother _years_ to figure out that the 8ish year game (so far) we play is set in it (none of the other players would know, of course)!



> Cheers and once again, thanks for posting.
> 
> thotd




Thanks for your interest!


----------

