# Into the Beast Country



## Olgar Shiverstone (Sep 8, 2004)

As I described in the “Teaching your spousal unit D&D” thread, I’m starting to teach my wife to play the game – or more accurately, reintroduce her to it, since she played 1E back in junior high school or so.  This story hour chronicles her character’s adventures in the Dalelands of the Forgotten Realms.


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## Olgar Shiverstone (Sep 8, 2004)

It was Shyla’s first time staying at an inn.  Though she’d ventured to Ashabenford several times before while running errands for her family back in Elven Crossing, she’d never actually entered the old whitewashed building that stood on the west bank of the Ashaba River.  Now she stood on the porch, taking in the sights.

She wandered Cormanthor near her small village home for years, learning the ways of the woods from her elven family.  She’d studied briefly under the druids of the Oakengrove Abbey, learning the ways of the plants and animals of the Dales, and learning to respect and live in concert with nature.  Her human family taught her to bend nature to her will, and to train the horses and dogs that they used to ply the small farms on the edge of the forest.  And most of all, they taught her to fight – to use the bow and sword of the elves, and the axe and spear of the Dalesman.  In memory of her father, killed these long years ago by an ogre deep in the forest, she carried the horse bow her mother had made for him, strung with her own elven hair.

As she took in the sights of civilization, a small boy from one of the outlying farms ran up, red-faced and nearly out of breath.  “Albern!  They’ve taken Albern!” he panted.

“Slow down,” she said “what has happened?”  Albern was a unicorn who wandered the northern edge of the forest and spent time at the grove, occasionally helping a Dalesman found lost or wounded in the forest through the magic of its healing horn.

The boy slowly caught his breath.  “It was goblins!” he said, shaking with fright.  “They attacked Albern and dragged him off!  There was blood on the road.”

Shyla shrugged.  She certainly wasn’t going to take on a horde of goblins all by herself.  “So what do you want me to do about it?” she said, then waved toward the open door of the inn, “Maybe one of those hero-types in there will help you.”  She certainly wasn’t a hero, a forest girl just wandered out of Elven Crossing!

The boy looked taken aback, then poked his head into the inn.  It was midday, and a few down-on their luck adventuring types were about taking their midday meal and listening to the half-elven minstrel strum her harp in the corner.  At one table, a man with a shining helm and shield sat, sipping water.  His shield was emblazoned with the symbol of the rising sun, and a heavy mace leaned against it.  Nearby, two dwarves hoisted mug after mug of ale, with the occasional “Praise Moradin!” thrown out in a drunken belch.  Across the room, a young, strong-looking bearded man with an enormous sword resting by his side tore a haunch from an impressive roast.  Finally, an elven woman sat cross-legged at a table in the corner, flipping slowly through a thick tome.

“Um …” the boy said, then finally stepped up to the closest man, and spilled his story.

“Well met, young one!” the man boomed in a friendly voice.  “I am Jozan, beloved of Lathander, and I will take up this challenge to recover your dear friend.  The depredations of goblins shall not be tolerated in this Dale!  Who will join me?”  He looked about the room, though none of the revelers met his gaze, until he locked eyes with Shyla.  “Well, my lady?”

“Well, I guess.  I know Albern and he’s a good sort, too good to end up as goblin chow.  I’ll join you, though I think we’ll need greater numbers.  Shyla, of Elven Crossing, by the way.”

“Jozan, “ he replied, bowing.  “And do you know any of this august company who should join us?”

Shyla looked over the guests of the inn.  All were strangers.  The dwarves were well on their way to getting drunk, no help there, and the young man with the big sword had a sort of dim look about him.

“Perhaps the elf in the corner?” she asked tentatively.  

Jozan stepped over to the elf’s table.  “I am Jozan of Lathander,” he introduced himself, “and my companion Shyla and I are undertaking a quest to rescue her friend Albern, a great unicorn captured by goblins.  I guess from your book that you have knowledge of the arcane, which might be of value to our quest.  Will you join us for the greater good?”

The elf woman closed her book and looked up at Jozan.  “I might consider it if you make it worth my while.  Share any arcane writings you might find with me, and I will join you – for a while, at least.”

“Is that acceptable, my lady?” Jozan asked, looking at Shyla.  When Shyla just shrugged, he clapped hands with the elf woman.  “A deal, then!  Welcome to our band!”

“Shyla, “ Shyla introduced herself noncommittally.  “Mialee,” the elf woman replied.

After a brief discussion of logistics, the group followed the young boy to the spot where he’d seen Albern abducted.  Shyla searched the area.  There had clearly been a struggle – four small bare-footed humanoids had attacked a hoofed creature, and eventually drug something large off to the southwest.  There was a clear trail, along with a few drops of blood.

“Take a look at this blood,” she asked Jozan, “do you think it is serious?”  

“I don’t know much of unicorn anatomy,” Jozan answered, “but that loss of blood seems fairly minor.  What the goblins intend with your friend may be far more foul.  The trail leads into the beast country to the west, a dangerous place where few civilized folk dwell.  The nearest civilized shelter beyond is the fortress at Peldan’s Helm.”

“We should follow quickly, then,” Shyla replied, slinging her bow and rapidly following the track.

After several hours travel, during which time the blood drops grew steadily larger, fresher, and more frequent, the trail eventually led to a dark copse of trees surrounding a small hillside.

“I don’t like the look of this place,” Shyla said to her companions.  “We should proceed with caution.  I’ll scout ahead.”

She followed the trail to the mouth of a small cave in the hillside.  Two trails converged there – the tracks she was following, and a set of booted footprints leading away to the northwest.  Shyla returned to her companions.

“I don’t like the look of this,” she told them.  “The trail goes into a small dark cave, but there’s another trail, different, leading away.  Something bigger than goblins could be about!”

“But if Albern is in there, he could be in great danger!” Jozan replied.  Mialee merely shrugged.

Shyla sighed.  “Very well, but we’ll need some light.”  Jozan mumbled a brief prayer to his god, and the head of his mace began to glow with a soft light.  Shyla crept forward to the cave, the light from Jozan’s mace providing just enough illumination to see ahead.

The passage went a short way into the hillside, and ended in a small round chamber with an old wooden door to the left.  Shyla motioned to the others to halt, then crept forward to the door, checking it.  It was unlocked, so she jerked it open.

The chamber beyond was completely dark, but she could hear the cackle of inhuman voices and the ring of steel sliding against steel, and smell an animal stench.  She quickly stepped to the side, cloaking herself in the shadows at the back of the cave, just as three short, greenish-skinned creatures came running out, holding spears at the ready.

The three creatures immediately focused on Jozan, who was shedding light just up the passage, and surrounded him, poking with their spears.  Shyla slowly took aim with her bow, as she heard Mialee chanting in Draconic.  A green bolt of light appeared, sizzling against on creature’s chest, and it fell, thrashin, but one of its companions dodged past Jozan’s wildly swinging mace to confront the elf mage.

Shyla released her arrow, but in the dim light, with the wildly gyrating creatures, it went wide.  She heard Mialee scream in horror as a goblin spear pierced the elf woman’s chest, and Mialee fell to the ground, motionless.

Shyla panicked, and dove into the small chamber, closing the door behind her.  She sensed a presence in the room, which was pitch black.  She smelled an animal smell, and heard heavy, labored breathing.

Jozan’s screams from the next room reminded her of her companions’ plight.  Steeling herself, she cracked the door, with her bow at the ready.

The light from Jozan’s mace glowed from the floor where the cleric was slumped with the figures of two goblins dancing about him in glee.  Shyla let fly, dropping one of them, and drew her sword as the other turned on her.  She charged, exchanging a set of ringing blows with the creature until she finally put a thrust through its chest.  She immediately rushed to check her companions.

Jozan had been knocked senseless, but would likely recover given time.  Mialee was bleeding heavily from a deep penetrating wound, and Shyla could not stem the flow of blood.  She decided to take a chance.  She grabbed Jozan’s glowing mace, and returned to the dark chamber.

There was a door on the far side of the small room, but tied in the corner was the white form of Albern the unicorn.  He was awake, blood crusted in a wound along one flank.  Shyla rushed to him, cutting his bonds with her sword, and helping the large animal to his feet.  

“My friends are dying in the next passage!” she implored him. “You must help!”

The unicorn whinnied, and rushed into the cave.  He passed Jozan, and reaching Mialee, touched her briefly with his horn.  There was a pale flash of light, the bleeding stopped, and the flesh began to knit before Shyla’s eyes.  Mialee began to stir.

“Thank you, Albern!” Shyla said, as she poured water over Jozan to revive him.  “We’d best go.  We’ve got what we came for; there’s at least one more goblin about somewhere, and we’re not in shape to face it.”

With Jozan and Albern’s help, they beat a hasty retreat back to the spot where the original attack had occurred, where the young boy and his farmer father were still waiting.  They bid Albern goodbye, and accepted the farmer’s offer of hospitality for the night – more for his protection than their own, Shyla surmised.

No matter.  As Shyla slipped off to sleep, she wondered: where was the fourth goblin, what was behind the other door, and had they left behind any treasure with which they could have paid Mialee?


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## Olgar Shiverstone (Sep 8, 2004)

The next morning, wounds healed with the help of Jozan’s prayers, they discussed their options.
“I think we should go back and see if the last goblin is still in the cave.” Shyla suggested.  “We can look to see if there is any gold to be found, as well.  If we’re lucky, the creatures who left the booted footprints won’t have returned.”

“Perhaps we can find out what the goblins were up to,” Jozan suggested.  “I don’t want to leave these good farmers at their mercy.  What say you, Mialee?”

Mialee shrugged.  “You still owe me for coming along, and after yesterday, I want my share.  I’m in.”

They set off, Shyla in the lead, following the tracks.  They again stopped just outside of the copse of trees as Shyla scouted ahead.  She returned shortly.

“There’s a new set of track leading away from the cave,” she reported.  “Some sort of animal, with padded and clawed feet – a wolf most likely.”

“No goblins?” Mialee asked.

“No tracks of gobins,” Shyla replied.  “The gobbo must still be inside.  Make some light, Jozan – let’s go in.”

She again led the trio into the cave, back-tracking the wolf tracks.  They entered the chamber in which Albern had been held, finding the door in the back wall open.  Someone had piled the goblin corpses and stripped them of their weapons.

Jozan leapt into the second room, swinging his glowing mace wildly.  “Nothing,”  he said in disappointment.

“Whatever gave you that idea,” Mialee said, as she sauntered over to the large iron-bound chest that sat at the back of the chamber.  She looked inside, sighed, then lifted out a single gold piece.  “My pay,” she said, as she pocketed it.

“That’s all?” Shyla asked.  She searched the room, aided by Mialee and Jozan, to find nothing but animal droppings and wolf and goblin tracks.  “Guess we’d better follow those tracks – that nasty goblin took his treasure and went to find his friends.”

They left, slowly following the tracks to the northwest.  The wolf tracks and the booted footprints headed in the same direction – toward a large mound about a mile distant.

“A Barrow,” Jozan explained. “The folk who once lived here buried their dead in great tombs like this.  There are many of them to the west – inhabited by the unquiet dead, or so I’ve heard.  Supposedly, many of the Barrows here in the beast country have been taken over by other creatures.”

“So can we handle these undead?” Shyla asked, shivering.  

“I think so, provided they are skeletons or zombies.  Lathander gives me some power against the undead, but more powerful kinds I have not yet learned to affect.”

“I’d better light a torch,” Mialee mutteredm taking out her flint and steel.  “This is likely to take a while.”

The three companions examined a large hole bored into one side of the mound.  There was a large chamber beyond.  Shyla drew her throwing axe and entered, nothing a rotted wooden door across the flagstone floor from where she had entered.

“Better bring that light in here,” she whispered to her companions.  There was a large dark area to her right.  With the aid of Mialee’s torch, they discovered an oddly shaped chamber, which had been emptied of everything except a large pile of trash against one wall.

Shyla moved to examine it, and as she got closer, the pile of bones, leaves, sticks, and rotting meat began to shift.  Four dog-sized creatures with red eyes and naked tails rushed out, quick to defend their lair.

“Rats!” Shyla hissed, and loosed her axe.  It whirled over a rat’s head, thudding into the trash pile.  Jozan charged in to the center of the rats, swinging about ineffectually with his mace, while Mialee dropped the torch and drew her bow.  Shyla did the same, as one rat charged her, sinking its teeth into her calf.

Shyla kicked the rat and stepped back, loosing an arrow at it, to no effect, though her following shot skewered the creature.  Jozan was still distracting the rats, as Mialee loosed an arcane bolt that sizzled one creature, and Shyla moved around for a clear shot, dropping another.  Two more arrows later, and Jozan finally squashed the remaining rodent.

“Disgusting creatures, “Jozan commented.  “Is everyone all right?”  Shyla showed her wound, which Jozan touched with one hand, saying a prayer to the Dawnlord.  Shyla felt warmth, and the flesh knitted, good as new, leaving behind a small tear in her leathers.

“Thanks Jozan,” she said, and turned to poke through the rat nest.

Nothing.  Mialee, meanwhile, had found no other exits, so they went to the door.  Shyla tried it – locked.  She checked it for booby traps, then went to work with a small piece of wire.  Ten minutes later, the lock clicked open.

“Useful skill,” Jozan noted with admiration.  

“It gets dull sometimes in Elven Crossing,” Shyla replied, “a girl’s gotta find a way to entertain herself.

The chamber beyond seemed much brighter, until Shyla realized that the light from Mialee’s torch was being reflected by a mirror on the opposite wall.  A table with four steaming bowls of food stood in the center of the small room, with an alcove to the right, and a door on the far wall, just to the left of the mirror.

“Soup’s on,” Shyla remarked with a smirk, and stepped into the room, finding that four hammocks swung in the small alcove.

“I suspect the owners just left,” Jozan said.  “They may have heard us fighting the rats – or may return to their meal soon.”

“They’re probably watching us from the other side of the mirror,” Shyla remarked, followed by: “just a minute.”  She went back to the large room, returning shortly with her throwing axe in hand.  “Almost forgot my axe.”

She sized up the mirror as Mialee searched the rest of the room.  Then Shyla wound up and smashed the mirror.

“Seven years’ bad luck!” Jozan said in horror.

“Well, they definitely know we’re coming now,” Mialee remarked wryly.

Shyla stooped and picked up a shard of glass, which she then poked through the wide crack under the door.  “There’s a light in there, and I see some barrels – can’t make out anyone, “ she whispered.

“Don’t bother whispering,” Mialee said.  “Try the door.”

The door was locked, but Shyla once again made short work of it with her lockpick.  As she puched the door open, there was a grating from the ceiling.  Shyla threw herself sideways, narrowly avoiding a large block which had dislodged from the ceiling.

“Forgot to check for traps,” she said sheepishly.

Jozan, meanwhile, had charged into the room, mace at the ready.  “Giant goblins!” he shouted, and Shyla and Mialee soon joined him in the room.

Two goblin-like creatures stood almost six feet tall, grinning with pointed teeth and cradling long swords.  Behind them, near a makeshift campfire, a goblin and large black wolf were getting to their feet.  One giant goblin barked a command, and both sword-wielding creatures charged.

Shyla hit one charging creature with her axe, wounding it, but still it cam on, though luckily she was able to dodge its blows, as was Jozan.  Mialee, meanwhile, had begun a soft chant, and threw glowing blue motes – grains of sand – into the air.  As they settled over the goblin creatures, the one in front of Shyla staggered, closed his eyes, and fell at her feet.

Shyla breathed a sigh of relief and drew her sword, only to discover that in the meantime the goblin had mounted the wolf like a horse, drawn a spear, and spurred his mount in her direction.  She dodged the charging spear and the wolf’s slavering jaws, and swinging with both arms, landed a telling blow that severed the wolf’s head from its body.  The animal collapsed, and the goblin fell from its back, sprawling flat on the flagstones.

Mialee fired an arrow at the goblin, narrowly missing, as Jozan sparred with his giant goblin enemy.  Both remaining creatures grinned wildly, revealing yellowed, pointed, gap-toothed smiles.

“I’ll wipe that smile off your face,” Shyla growled, spinning in a full circle as she lashed out with her sword.  The goblin was just climbing to his feet, and distracted, felt the full force of the blow.  His intestines splattered across the stones as his upper torso came to a sliding halt against the near wall.  “Don’t mess with the elf bitch,” Shyla said.

Jozan landed a heavy blow alongside his opponent’s head, as the large creature dropped senseless to the floor.  Shyla took the remaining moment to skewer the sleeping creature at her feet.

“My lady!” Jozan protested.  “That creature was helpless!  We could have used a prisoner to tell us what they were up to!”

Shyla shrugged.  “I’m not leaving a known enemy behind me,” she replied, “we’ve made that mistake once already.”

“I have to agree with Shyla,” Mialee added.  “That creature would do us no good.  There are no good goblins.”

Jozan shook his head and muttered.  “We’ll pay for that eventually, I’m sure.”

Mialee and Shyla, meanwhile, had begun searching the bodies and the room.  Mialee found a scroll of parchment on the small goblin; Shyla meanwhile found a large stash of gold and a suit of chainmail armor in one of the barrels.

“We’re rich, we’re wealthy!” she exclaimed, throwing coins in the air.  “Jozan, try on this suit of armor!”

The second barrel held a more gruesome treasure.  A dwarf had been sealed in it; his skin was now purple as a result of the wine in which he had been soaking for several days.

“Durnik the Smith, “ Jozan said with a sigh.  “He left town a week ago to visit relatives to the south – taking the cursed Dark Road toward the Vale of Lost Voices.  It seems the curse caught up with him; I wonder how he got out here?”

Shyla shook her head.  “Perhaps this will help,” Mialee offered, holding up the rolled parchment.  “It’s some sort of map – there are two locations marked besides this one – one south along the river in the forest, and a second in the Beast Country not far from here.  There’s some writing in the goblin tongue.  It reads: ‘Drak, obtain the magic statue and bring it and the prisoners to me at the Citadel.  Belak’ “

“What’s that mean?” Shyla asked.  “That magic statue sounds intriguing.”

“One can only guess,” Jozan said.  “I’ve heard legends of a lost elven citadel deep in the Vale of Lost Voices, down the Dark Road.  Folk stopped venturing that way long ago due to goblin raiders.  Perhaps these creatures come from there.  If I’m right, then that other location on the map would be the location of this magic treasure.”

“Sounds worth exploring!” Mialee exclaimed.  “But I’d like to prepare some spells, first.”

“I’m up fro some magical treasure,” Shyla said.  “I’ll find us a spot to rest in the woods.”

“Then maybe we can get to the bottom of what these goblins are up to, and who this Belak fellow is mentioned on the map,” Jozan agreed.

Shyla led them out of the barrow mound, and after an hour or searching, found a secluded ravine a mile away in which to hide for the night.

“More adventure in the morning,” she said as she laid out her bedroll for the night.


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