# Beauty and the Beast: The adventures of Hulgor and Gwennid! Updated 7/11!



## Munin (Jun 15, 2005)

The Devil Box


Session I
_Of carnivals and kobolds_​
Years ago two children, a wiry girl named Gwennid and a dull-witted yet loyal half-orc named Hulgor, talked of adventure. As the years passed by, the talk didn’t fade as plans that children make often do. Instead, the plans solidified and took shape. They worked extra hours in the fields to pay for supplies and equipment. They took summer apprenticeships with the militia (and other, less savory organizations) to hone essential adventuring skills. Eventually, the year before they were to come into adulthood and take on all the responsibilities that that implied, they were ready.  

The plan was simple: A few days travel from their modest village was the township of Muffin’s Honor. At the end of harvesttime the town celebrated The Shackling, in which eligible bachelors and maidens would don costume masks and mingle, hoping to see beyond the distraction of physical appearance and get to know the real person behind the mask. More importantly for our would-be heroes, it was also the time that merchants from all around would gather and depart to exotic locales unknown, and merchants always need guards. The final goal was Endhome, the cultural and economic hub of the entire region. There, they would put their skills to the test, and seek fame and fortune as adventurers.

So the pair left the idyllic village they had known since youth, and started the adventure of a lifetime.

…

They were almost to Muffin’s Honor when they came across the wagon. The wreckage was still smoldering, and lying in plain sight in the middle of the road were the horribly bloated carcasses of a man and horse. Scattered across the body of the man was a large chest with its contents (over 2,000 silver pieces!) spilled out. 

Hulgor was about to start collecting the silver when he first noticed two kobolds, one who ducked quickly behind the wagon and another, larger one, who immediately drew a small katana and took up a defensive pose. As Gwennid approached, she realized that the injuries inflicted on the horse and rider were of the sort caused not by bladed weapons, but rather appeared to be poisonous stings of the sort inflicted by some wild beast. Hulgor did not concern himself with such things and immediately drew his massive axe to smash the feisty little creature before him. Luckily (for the kobold that is), before he did so the second one jumped in between them and entreated our heroes not to strike. He waved a crumpled scroll in his hand, which turned out to be a missive from the clan chief of a nearby kobold tribe. 

After much consternation, Gwennid determined that the kobolds had been sent out from their tribe to enlist the help of ‘most honorable pale smooth ones’ to return a devil to its prison, which seemed to be a coffin shaped box of some sort. Apparently this particular devil was released accidentally when the sister of its keeper opened it, only to be murdered by the released devils. Did I say devils? Yes, the kobolds discreetly mentioned later in the conversation that there were actually three devils that had been released from the box, not just one. Anyway, this keeper, whomever she was, became so enraged by her sister’s action that she too died, leaving the poor kobolds without a ‘seerblood’ to activate the box and return the devil to its prison. Luckily, the son of the keeper, a freakishly large kobold named Lumbie, was also of seerblood and therefore could activate the box. Unluckily, he was also sold some years earlier to Quigley’s Festal Freak Show, which is, conveniently enough, based in Muffin’s Honor. 

So our heroes, now with Raspit the Son of Clan Chief Gnurka and His Terribleness Duke Chupo the Slayer of Rosie the Seamstress in tow, gathered the silver pieces back into the chest, collected from the dead man some personal effects with which he could be identified, gathered the Devil Box (Chupo allowed no one, including Raspit, to handle the box) and headed off down the road to Muffin’s Honor.


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## Munin (Jun 15, 2005)

Here is the note handed to Gwennid from clan chief Gnurka:

_Most honorably pale smooth ones,

Begging you stay weapons that hands are waiting to swing!
My brave heroes wishing you will have no want for the fighting only wishing we are to help Narl accidentally very bad released a devil from its box of prisonly she is now bits and burned up Thistlelip get so angry she drop dead too most tearful is we devil is now most tiny but still danger being but soon become bigness and bad bigness dangerous but solving exists the Devil Box calling into it back can work but only for two and three and two together nights after this devil most bigness becomes again and on him box never working will Kurtulmak save us!

You strong bigness are and we weak and tiny you helping my brave heroes to finding poor Lumbie since he now only kobold can make Devil Box go then Lumbie can back into box make devil go by singing rhyme nicely you help us helping your own because devil much bad chainness is he him make Zorinth take brave scaly heroes with you after Lumbie but must be seerblood like Lumbie to make go so no you thinking you stick scaly heroes and make box go yourselfs.

You are big and clever and knowing that hurting us will be hurting your own and you would be as big badness as big badness that was in box and has away out been taken hide will he you must find him Three servants he had too and they are scaly imps and can changing very clever and make selves empty they talk and makes things listen and the bad thing and get Lumbie to work box once devil be forced backwards into box again we shall happy be and friendly and you heroes bravely with crowns in big lands happy shall do not letting the devil win it is big badness


Clan Chief Gnurka_


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## Munin (Jun 15, 2005)

Conclusion of Session I​
Several hours later, the group arrived on the outskirts of town. The kobolds, knowing they would likely be torn to shreds by a mob if discovered, attempted to disguise themselves as halflings. Gwennid assisted with the effort, with only a partial success for her troubles, while Hulgor, as is his habit, waited impatiently, hoping for something worth smashing to meander by. 

As the foursome entered the city, two masked women approached and offered to sell them costume masks, which they purchased hoping to better blend in and give their kobold companions a better shot at avoiding close scrutiny. Once inside the city proper, they discovered the normally quiet town of 2,000 virtually bursting at the seams with people from all over packed in to celebrate the Shackling. The streets were fairly teeming with people; celebrations and partygoers spilled from taverns and private residences onto the streets of the city. Luckily, the four found a private room at the Grumpy Hogfish, a small inn of modest standards. 

After settling in, the group quickly decided the best course of action was to visit _Quigley’s Festal Freak Show_ and case the area to determine the easiest way to extract Lumbie from his current profession. The price to enter the show was a whopping five silver a head! They grudgingly complied and handed the silver monies over to a pale, greasy skinned gnome who easily could have passed for a freak himself. Once inside, our heroes were barraged with one fantastic sight after another: the fearsome Salmon Harpy, the two-headed frog girl, a stuffed Owlbear in a state of advanced decay, the incredible boneless man (this one screams in a most menacing fashion in some vile tongue whenever people are about) a twelve foot long Roc feather, and lastly Lumbie, who was introduced by Quigley as the loathsome lizard-boy. As if on queue, Lumbie hissed and growled most terribly, much to the delight of the children in the crowd. Raspit almost gave himself away by skittering and chattering most unhalfling like, but a stern look from Hulgor set him straight.


_Meanwhile…_

Far below the crowded streets of Muffin’s Honor, sitting on a throne much to large for his tiny frame, Zorinth the miniature chain devil stewed in his own paranoia. At least, he tried to do so. The constant *SQUAWKING* of terrified chickens filled the room, as Glister and Ognort, two of his imp underlings, chased, tortured, plucked, dissected and ate the chickens he had ordered from his old acquaintance, Max Muddletude. 

“*SILENCE!*” the kyton squeaked. 

The two imps froze, chicken innards still in claw. Zorinth leaned back in the throne, and pondered his options. Three days had passed since his release. Not counting today, that left four days more that he was still vulnerable to the powers of the cursed _Devil Box_. He felt reasonably safe within the confines of Muddletude’s basement, but those nagging doubts would not let him rest. The kobolds would at least make an attempt to recapture him, and Zorinth just couldn’t bear the humiliation of being captured by such lowly creatures a second time.

The door to his modest abode suddenly opened, and Zorinth shot up, instantly ready to attack. His third underling, Matilda, stepped in and knelt at the throne. “Master, I think kobolds are in the city,” she began, “I spotted what appeared to be halflings traveling with two other mortals, a human and a half-orc. One of the ‘halflings’ was carrying a box on his back that looked very similar to the one that trapped us. I followed them to an inn, but couldn’t get close enough to be certain because of the crowds.”

The chain devil levitated over to the fireplace and briefly considered his options. “Ognort, _commune_ with the lower planes, I need information.” He quickly wrote down several questions and handed them to the imp.

“As you wish, my master,” the imp replied. Ognort cast chicken entrails onto the open flame and recited the spell. From the flames, a presence filled the room. 

“Are there kobolds in Muffin’s Honor?” the imp asked, reading from the sheet Zorinth handed him.

“Yes,” came the reply.

“Is the _Devil Box_ in Muffin’s Honor?

“Yes.”

“Do the kobolds have allies?”

“Yes.”

“Are the ones Matilda saw these allies?”

“Yes.”

“Do they intend to put us back in the _Devil Box_?”

“Yes.”

Ognort looked over at his master, who was contemplating what to ask for the final question. He knew he wouldn’t get another chance for a definitive answer, so Ognort asked the question that had been plaguing him for nearly three hundred years…

“Do chickens feel pain?” he blurted out.

“Yes,” came the reply, and with that the presence faded from the room.

The imp skipped up in down in glee, temporarily forgetting the wrath of his master. Zorinth glared at the imp, but deferred punishment until a more appropriate time. He turned to Matilda, “Take care of this before it becomes a problem. Those…associates of Muddletude should be sufficient.”

The imp bowed and quickly departed. As she shut the door, a sudden squeal of pain filled the room…


...


After the show, Gwennid tried unsuccessfully to talk Morris, one of Quigley’s hired toughs, to let her back in. When that failed, she turned on her feminine charm long enough to give Hulgor and the kobolds a chance to slip back inside the tent before Quigley brought the next group of gawkers through. 

Lumbie quietly explained that late night is the only time he will be able to escape, as he is one of the main attractions and Quigley watches him closely. So Hulgor promised to return and free the pitiable kobold in the dead of night. 

Later, as the heroes approached the rear entrance of the inn, Gwennid happened to glance up just in time to notice a pair of sinister red eyes glaring down at her from the rooftop. She narrowly avoided the snapping jaws of a ferocious rat that leaped down at her from above! Gwen’s eyes grew wide; the beast was at least the size of a hound, with teeth that could rend both flesh and bone. Within seconds, the group was surrounded by five of the fearsome creatures. Surprised by the unexpected assault, both Hulgor and Gwennid quickly found themselves bleeding from the vicious bites of the carnivores. Panic gripped Gwennid, the rats were too quick and easily dodged her desperate strikes. It was only a matter of time, she thought, before they wore her down. Luckily, just as she considered leaping past the beasts into the crowded inn, she landed a quick double blow that left two of them on the ground, motionless. Not to be outdone, Hulgor slew another two with his mighty axe, and Raspit finished off the fifth. 

Before they could catch their breath however, a creature that seemed to be half man and half rat stood from its hiding place on the roof. It quickly took aim and fired a shot from his crossbow, missing Hulgor by a hair. As the beast reloaded its crossbow, Gwennid fired back with her own, but the bolt glanced harmlessly off the creature’s armor. Hulgor jumped on the wall in an attempt to climb up to the roof and bring the fight to the ratman, but slipped on the vines and landed square on his back with a huff. Raspit, however, took careful aim with his bow and landed a hit that sunk deep into the creature’s stomach. The ratman howled in pain and rage and raced off across the rooftop and away from the party. They quickly scrambled inside before the creature returned with reinforcements. As Gwennid shut the door behind her, she looked back to notice a fat, black cat with uncanny, intelligent eyes watching them suspiciously. With a shudder, she turned back into the inn.


...


After a nice hot meal, the foursome decided it was time to head back to Quigely’s. For the most part they stayed with the crowds that prowled the city streets, hoping to avoid any further encounters with the mysterious rat-men. Finally, they arrived at the circus. Gwinned slipped over the rickety wooden fence that separated the circus from the rest of town and slipped across the grounds past the big top to the large wagon. The two kobolds quickly and silently disappeared into some nearby foliage. Hulgor could still hear their excited whispering as the vainly tried to hide himself behind a small tree that was much narrow to conceal his massive girth. Apparently he didn’t realize that just because _he_ couldn’t see the big top that didn’t mean that _others_ couldn’t see him. 

On a wooden chair leaning up against the wagon slept Trent, the other tough in Quigley’s employ. Though seemingly quiet as a church mouse, somehow Trent heard the soft-footed sneak, and awoke with a start, drawing his dagger and casting about. Instinctively Gwennid flattened herself against the ground, hoping to remain hidden in the shadows. She held her breath as time slowed to a crawl. Seeing her plight, Hulgor stepped from behind the tree and approached the fence, calling out; ‘Hey, come here!’

“Whaddya want? We’re closed til mornin’, the oaf replied as he cautiously approached the half-orc.

“Well, I left something in the tent, and I need to get it back, can you let me in?”

“Like I said, we’re closed, you’ll have ta wait.”

“Well, I..uh..kinda.. uh…” *Smack!* The half-orc punched the poor sap with such speed and power that he instantly crumpled to the muddy ground, knocked out cold. Quickly Hulgor grabbed the man by his feet and pulled him to the other side of the fence, depositing him unceremoniously in some nearby bushes. A few feet away he could hear the snickering of the hidden kobolds.

While Hulgor disposed of the unconscious man, Gwennid leapt up and scurried over to the wagon. She tried the knob and frowned…locked! As quickly as she could, she jimmied the lock and opened the door, and almost burst out laughing. There, in the corner, stuffed in a cage far to small for his bulbous frame, sat Lumbie. He was frowning, and fat squeezed between the bars of his tiny cage. His master snored peacefully in a large bed next to him. 

“Get me out of here!” the freakishly large kobold muttered pitifully.

Within seconds, Gwennid had the kobold out of the cage and out of the wagon. About halfway between the wagon and the gate, the tent flap of the big top suddenly opened, and out came Morris. Gwennid grabbed Lumbie and threw them both to the earth. Morris’ eyes immediately went to the empty chair where Trent was sleeping just moments before; he scratched his head. 

Once again, Hulgor took the initiative. “Hey, come here!”

Morris eyed him suspiciously.

“I left something in the tent earlier today, Trent went to get it, have you seen him?”

Morris thought for a second, shrugged, and ducked back inside the big top.

Quick as a fox, Gwennid leapt up and raced to the fence. Poor Lumbie huffed behind her.  The kobolds hopped excitedly at the sight of the large kobold and chattered between themselves, and the group turned down the road back towards Muffin’s Honor.


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## Munin (Jun 15, 2005)

Welcome to the Adventures of Hulgor and Gwennid!

For years now I've enjoyed the many fine story hours of this forum, and so it is with some trepidation that I present to you my very own tale. 

What started out as a simple diversion from my other long running campaign, has quickly blossomed into a full-fledged campaign of its own. It is for the most part a light-hearted tale, hopefully humerous to the reader, but as the characters have developed, so have the plots they weave. We're about to play the 10th session, and I feel that the campaign is really starting to come into its own.

Some introductions are in order:

*Gwennid* is a young human woman who is inclined to roguishness and sneaking about. She lives to antagonize her best friend Hulgor and dreams of fame, glory and fortune. 

*Hulgor* is a half-orc lucky enough to be raised in a human village, and has thereby gained the skills necessary to be accepted in the civilised world. But deep down Hulgor is a warrior, and lives for the thrill of battle. On a side note, Hulgor's player is new to d&d and gaming in general, this being his first d&d experience. 


This first adventure is taken from Dungeon #109, and was written by Richard Pett. It is a delightful adventure and I highly recommend it.

As always, questions, comments, and criticsims are welcome. Please, drop in and say hello!


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## Son_of_Thunder (Jun 15, 2005)

*Excellent*

Very nice and from a good adventure as well. I like your writing.

You only have two players then?

A new story hour to read. [Montgomery Burns]Excellent![/Montgomery Burns]


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## Munin (Jun 16, 2005)

Awesome! My first reply!

Thank you, sir. It's good to know that you're enjoying it so far.

Yes, only two players. Gwennid is played by my wife, herself a veteran player (well, 3rd edition veteran anyways), and Hulgor is played by a good friend of ours. 

I also run a bi-weekly game that involves a full party, but that campaign has been ongoing for almost two years now, I originally wanted to convert that game to a story hour, but it's too far gone now. I'd love to do it, but just don't have the time.

We play this campaign every week, so expect regular updates. It is by design your 'typical' campaign. I wanted to give Ben (Hulgor's player) a good feel for traditional d&d, and I hope I've  accomplished that so far.


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## Munin (Jun 16, 2005)

The Devil Box


Session II 
_dark discoveries in Muffin's Honor_​

In the instant they turned to leave the Freak Show, Gwennid again saw the cat, that same cat that she noticed earlier: fat, with large, intelligent eyes. It looked dead at her, and then headed off toward town at a trot. Two times in one night could not be coincidence, she thought. She signaled to Hulgor, and then started off after the cat, keeping to the shadows. 

The whole time she followed the cat, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Most cats stop from time to time and sniff at a bit of garbage or stalk about for food. Not this one. Something was not right about this cat. It cut a direct path through town all the way to the river, ignoring things that any other cat would pounce on. Finally it came to a certain ‘Mr. Muddletude’s Workhouse and Laundry’ and leapt through a half-opened window. 

As she waited for the others to catch up, Gwennid peeked in the window: a bare office front stuffed with clothes was all she could see. The acrid stench of lye and bleach made her nose wrinkle.

When the others arrived, they discussed their options. They could just try knocking, but it was too late to pose as customers. Gwennid noticed a window on the second floor and shimmied up a tree for a better look inside, but the shutters were closed. Carefully, she pried them open with her dagger, and could just barely make out the shapes of two sleeping figures but it was too dark to make out details.

Frustrated, and unsure of exactly what to do, it was after all just a cat, she climbed back down the tree and gave Hulgor an exasperated glance. In the end though, adventure got the better end of prudence and they decided to sneak in the workhouse. Taking Raspit with her, Gwennid sprung the lock and slipped in the front room. Once her eyes adjusted, she could see racks of clean clothes against the walls, and piles of dirty ones on the floor. A door on the far wall was slightly ajar…open just enough to allow one fat cat to slip through.

She crept up to the door and peeked through; six large vats filled with some noxious concoction dominated the room. The stench was horrible. Evidently this was where workers laundered the clothes. The ceiling was open to the second floor, and a rickety gangplank ran around the room about 15 feet up. Three ladders offered access to the gangplank, and a pair of double-doors lined the west wall. Motioning for Hulgor, Chupo and Lumbie to come inside, Gwennid tiptoed into the main room, quiet as could be. Hulgor sniffed the air deeply for any kind of sent, and almost fainted from the pernicious odor. He grabbed his thumping head, and a dribble of snot ran down his chin. As he swooned from the overwhelming stench, the kobolds stared up at him in barefaced fascination.

Gwennid pressed her ear against the double doors but could hear nothing. Confident that no one was on the other side, she tried the handle, which opened with ease. The room appeared to be a kitchen of some sort, and there was another door, much sturdier than the previous ones, on the north wall. Again, she tried the door, but this one was locked. 

“What should we do?” she whispered to Hulgor.

“How should I know? Try’n open it.”

“Well, ok.” Gwennid replied, but was unsure of the lock. It seemed to be barred on the other side. 
She slipped a pick through the door planks and tried to lift the bar. *Snap!* Her pick cracked under the weight of the bar. Gwennid glared at Hulgor, who flashed a goofy grin, shrugged, and backed up towards the far door and _away_ from the fiery woman. 

She shoved her broken pick back into her pack and pushed past the half orc, “You owe me some new thieves tools, you big oaf!”

The only area left was the second floor. Gwennid climbed the ladder first, followed by the three kobolds. Hulgor got halfway up when his foot slipped, sending him and his noisy armor crashing against the ladder with a resonating thud. The sound split the still, silent room like a dozen pots and pans slamming against a kitchen floor.

Gwennid pressed herself against the wall and watched the door on the far side the room. That was the one where the two figures slept. She thought she heard a snort and a scuffle, but couldn’t be sure. On the adjacent wall there were two other doors, and she had no idea what was behind them. Hulgor climbed up the ladder red-faced, drew his axe, and positioned himself between the rest of the group and the two doors. 

The far door opened, and out stepped a gnome in bedclothes holding a crossbow. “What are you doing here? Thieves!” he bellowed in sudden rage. 

To Hulgor’s shock and horror, as the gnome screamed at them his facial features _twisted_, taking on the likeness of the ratman he had seen earlier. Before he could react though, Gwennid fired a shot from her crossbow, and was rewarded by a solid hit to the gnomething’s shoulder. It screamed in pain and fell back a step, grabbing the doorpost for support. 

Hulgor chucked a javelin that missed its target and disappeared into the room behind it. His ears perked up. He heard movement, not just in one, but both of the doors next to him. This could be trouble, he thought.

Both Chupo and Raspit fired their weapons, but the ratman was unusually nimble and dodged both attacks.  The ratman fired wildly, narrowly missing Raspit, who ducked behind Gwennid. She fired again, and hit her target. This time the ratman slumped against the wall and did not move.

Quickly, she loaded her crossbow and again trained on the open door. There were two she thought; the other will show any second. 

Somewhere behind her, Lumbie whimpered.

Behind Hulgor, the second door opened. A ratman tumbled out and stabbed him in the back with a rapier. Fortunately, the blade could not pierce his armor, and with a savage blow the half-orc spun and cut the beast down. A third ratman stepped out over the body of the gnomething and fired its crossbow. Raspit yelped in pain as the bolt grazed his arm and slammed into the wall behind him. Again Gwennid fired, the bolt tore through the ratman’s throat releasing a fountain of bright, red blood. It collapsed to the ground with a sickening gurgling sound. 

Not being one to wait on trouble to come to him, Hulgor kicked opened the final door with a shout. A fetid cloud of urine and human filth assaulted his nostrils, driving the wind right out of him. Packed in the tiny room were at least twenty half-starved, unwashed, feculent people. They huddled against one another along the far wall and cringed at the sight of the enraged half-orc. Hulgor took one look and motioned excitedly for Gwennid. 

Gwennid held her breath and stepped into the room, palms faced out in a show of amity. She noticed that the one small window in the room had been boarded shut, and an overflowing bucket was all that served as a toilet.

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

One woman spoke up, “We don’t know. Where are we? It’s been so long since we’ve seen the outside. We’ve been working here for months, some of us.”

“You’re in Muffin’s Honor. You’re free now. Those who held you are dead.”

“Oh thank God,” several in the group sighed, and took their first tentative steps toward the door and the freedom it offered.

“Where are you from?” Gwennid asked as they filed out.

“Endhome, mostly,” the woman spoke up again. “We were kidnapped from the slums and taken here. I don’t know how long, they whip us if we talk.”

“They whipped you?” Gwennid repeated, shocked, and the anger again welled up inside her. “Go, we don’t know who else is here. Go outside and get the guard. Hurry!”

They shuffled to the door, as quickly as they could, and filed out into the night. Gwennid turned her attention back to the task at hand. She stepped over the two dead bodies in front of the furthest door, and into their sleeping quarters. The room was posh. A four-post bed covered one wall, and a smaller one took up another. The sweet smell of incense clung to the air, in stark contrast to the stench of the slave-room, which angered her even more. On a table Gwennid noticed a finely engraved silver writing set. She quickly pocketed it and left the room. There was one unexplored door on the bottom floor, and who knew where that would take them?


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jun 19, 2005)

Hi Munin,

Your story hour has got a nice feel to it already. The beauty and the beast take on things got me interested.

Hmmm... the bumbling bad guys is also a nice touch. Not enough of those type about.

Keep it coming.

Spider J


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## Munin (Jun 22, 2005)

Thanks!

I let the players name this campaign, and that's what they came up with. At first I didn't care for it, but it's grown on me. There is almost a constant flow of barbs between the two of them. You'll see some of it in the next session.


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## Munin (Jun 22, 2005)

Conclusion of ‘The Devil Box’

Session III

_bad, bad things in tiny packages_​

After a few minutes and some selective cursing, Gwennid finally unhinged the bar and opened the door. Rough-hewn stone steps descended into darkness. The air was damp and thick, and smelled of mildew and decay. She struck a sunrod and crept down as quietly as she could.  At the base of the stairs the corridor turned sharply to the left, and she could just make out the hint of an intersection of a few feet beyond the light of her sunrod. Motioning the rest to wait, she crept forward.

“The kobolds have lied to you,” said the voice, “it is you they intend to imprison, and so blindly you walked right into their trap.”

Gwennid filled with rage. ‘Those dirty, sneaky little bastards,’ she thought. Sword in hand, she turned on Hulgor, who blocked her path to the three unsuspecting kobolds.
“Out of my way,” she demanded. “We’ve been tricked!” 

Hulgor was taken aback. “Huh? What are you talking about, Gwen?” 
The change in her was immediate; Hulgor could sense that something was not quiet right. He broke out in a nervous sweat as he quickly considered his options. Something devious was afoot, and if he didn’t figure it out quickly, things could get messy in a hurry.

“Those dirty kobolds! That’s what I’m talking about. Don’t you see? They led us into a trap, Hulgor. It’s not demons they want to catch, it’s us!”

“No, no!” Raspit squealed in a panicked voice. “It’s the devils, they use trickses, and wicked, nasty magics! We are friends! We no use trickses!” The other kobolds hopped up and down in hurried agreement. Lumbie turned ghostly white, which Hulgor didn’t even think was possible for kobolds to do.

He attempted to buy some time by stalling her, “Are you sure about this, Gwen? I mean, they’ve been pretty ok so far…for kobolds and all.”

“Yes I’m sure! Didn’t you hear the voice? Now, GET OUT OF MY WAY!” she ordered, furious with the half-orc. ‘Why didn’t he understand?’ She thought. 

She tried to push her way past her hulking friend, but he planted his feet and refused to budge. He wasn’t sure who to believe, but he was not about to let her loose on the kobolds in this dark tunnel. If they started fighting amongst themselves and those devils were around, they’d be in a real pickle. Suddenly, he saw a flash of movement behind her. "*OW!*" Gwennid shrieked as a burst of pain shot up her back, a look of shock crossed her face.

“Something stung me!” she complained, rubbing her backside. 

Hulgor took advantage of her momentary lapse and rushed her, pushing her all the way past the intersection and into a small cul-de-sac, where she landed hard on her rear. 
“Go!” he shouted over his shoulder at the kobolds. “Lumbie, sing that song, quickly!”
The three kobolds did as they were ordered and raced the corner. The sounds of combat quickly ensued. 

When she landed, Gwennid came to her senses. “What happened?” she asked, trying to rub away the sharp pain in her bottom.

“Uh…didn’t you see it? The devil…it ran at us and knocked you back. I tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen!” Hulgor scratched his ear and smiled dumbly.

Gwennid’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Are you sure? I think I’d remember that.”

“Yep, that’s what happened alright. Well, don’t just sit there! We need to help the kobolds before it’s too late.”

Hulgor yanked her up by the hand and the two sped around the corner and found themselves in a large, well-adorned room. A banquet table dominated the center of the room. A kingly feast was spread out upon it, and three large jars of wine were set on the far side. Fine tapestries decorated the walls, plush carpets covered the floors, and a gold painted throne sat in a corner.

At the entrance to the room a pitched battle was in progress. Raspit and Chupo were in heated combat with two devils, one with wings and a barbed tail, the other covered in chains and floating in mid-air. The kobolds ducked and weaved and shouted courageously, but were clearly outmatched by the devils. Behind them, Lumbie sat on the ground in front of the Devil Box, intently concentrating on words written on the side, trying to memorize them so he made no mistakes. 

Hulgor drew his axe and leapt into the fray. He focused on the devil wrapped in chains, as it appeared to be the leader and most dangerous of the two. It was preoccupied with Raspit, so he had a clear shot at the tiny devil’s head. He lifted his axe and came down with all of his might. The blow was lined up perfectly, and would have split the creature in twain had it not turned the axe blade with a casual backhand. 
Hulgor gulped, and his eyes grew large as saucers.
“Lumbie! Sing the bloody song!” he shouted.

Lumbie snapped up and drew in a breath. Sweat was pouring off him in sheets.
 In a surprisingly good baritone, he sang the following poem:

_“Devil Box, devil box
Trusting strong locks
Take him in, long to keep
Tiny, small, asleep.”_

For a split second, everything slowed to a standstill. Gwennid held her breath.
Realization dawned on the devils, and they let out a shrill cry of such intensity and frenzied hate that even in the streets far above people drew their cloaks about them and cast uneasy glances at one another.
Inside the throne room, the devils unleashed all their fury upon our heroes and their allies. Raspit screamed in pain as the winged devil stuck him repeatedly with its barbed tail. He stumbled back but did not fall from the savage assault. 

Hulgor was on the pure defensive. Razor-sharp chains lashed out at him, one narrowly missing his exposed throat. He ducked and parried, but it was simply not possible to avoid the flurry of attacks. Blood flowed freely from several smaller wounds. It was all he could do to keep the devil from slipping behind him and attacking the fat kobold. Even with Chupo helping him, they were no match for the vicious attack of the devil.
“Lumbie!” he bellowed. “Now! Do it again before it’s too late!”

Lumbie stammered nervously. This was just too much for his timid soul. His eyes darted back to the unguarded stairwell. Just a few steps, he thought, and he’d be safe and far away from those terrible monsters. 

Gwennid knelt down beside him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“You can do this, I know you can, it’s in your blood, Lumbie. Just sing the song and it will all be over.”

Lumbie looked up at her, his eyes welling up with renewed courage. He stood, took in a deep breath, and sang with all his might. A clear, strong voice pierced the din of the pitched battle.
The door of the box sprang open, and instantly the two devils were sucked inside. It slammed shut and locked. Runes along the side glowed eerily and then faded. The sound of the devil’s screams reverberated off the walls, and then a calm set in

Lumbie collapsed, exhausted from his effort. Raspit and Chupo plopped down on one of the plush carpets to lick their wounds. Hulgor dropped his axe and bounded over to Lumbie, caught him up in his massive arms and swung him around in circles. The poor kobold’s feet dangled helplessly off the ground, he wasn’t quiet sure if the half-orc was happy with him or angry at him, so he just smiled nervously and prayed to whatever god kobolds pray to when they’re in the grip of intimidating, dancing half-orcs. 
“You did it! I can’t believe it, but you did it!” Hulgor hollered. He sat the kobold down on the throne and slapped him hard on the shoulder, squeezing him with his massive hand.
Lumbie just sat there and smiled up at the jubilant half-orc and then gave Gwennid a pleading glance.

“Uh, Hulgor.” She said, taking him by the shoulder and leading him over to the table, “Let’s see if this stuff is worth anything.” Behind them, Lumbie let out a deep breath and slouched down into the throne.

As Chupo and Raspit, terrors already forgotten, attacked the banquet feast like the ravenous little kobolds they were, Gwynnid and Hulgor took stock of their new-found loot. The tapestries and carpets were obviously quite valuable, but how much so wasn’t clear to either of them. There was also a nice decanter, some silver goblets, and a few other items worth taking. They gathered up the booty and headed back to the surface. 

Leaving the workshop, they heard the footsteps of a large crowd coming their way in a hurry from the end of the street. Gwynnid’s heart dropped to her feet, if the mob saw the kobolds, things would get ugly. “Hurry!” she whispered, “Around the corner of the shop and get out of town before they see you!” 
The kobolds sensed the danger as well and spared no time making a hasty departure.  

Gwen watched the trio disappear into the night. Chupo still guarded the devil box jealously, Lumbie walked with a newfound sense of pride as the other two clapped him on the back and chattered in their own foreign tongue. It would probably be the last time she would see the kobolds, and she felt a curious tug at her heart: she’d miss the little buggers. 

The sound of approaching footsteps got her attention, rounding the corner were the twenty freed slaves, Mayor Ragwort Quietwide, Sheriff Tippling Retniret, several guards, Quigley, Morris, and Trent, whose left eye was completely swollen shut. 

Trent pointed an accusatory finger at Hulgor. “There!” he barked, “That’s the one that hit me and stole Lizard-boy!” 

Hulgor bowed up, “Did ya bring a steak for that eye, boy?”

Quigley tugged on the sheriff’s tunic, “They’re thieves,” he shouted, “arrest them! They kidnapped my poor Lizard-Boy and now we’ve caught them red-handed robbing Mr. Muddletude as well! Lock them up before they kidnap or rob someone else!” 

The sheriff looked somewhat unsure, though no doubt the sight of them standing there, burdened with Muddletudes’ household goods was not helping their cause in the slightest. He looked at Quietwide, who started to raise his hand to speak, but was nearly bowled over by the twenty freed slaves who raced forward and completely surrounded the two suspects. They embraced the heroes, some of the weeping openly. Others clapped them on the shoulders and cheered. The crowd pressed in on them so tightly that they were almost forced back inside the workhouse. Somehow, the slaves managed to lift both Gwennid AND Hulgor on their weakened shoulders and carry them away from the workhouse. Revilers from the Shackling celebrations joined the parade, not caring what it was about, just knowing that something was going on and soon a huge mob of partygoers swept them down the street and away from the watch. 

Quigley cursed and kicked the ground with the toe of his boot.


The next day…

After spending the night in drunken revelry, the two had no problems finding buyers for their goods in the packed city. The rugs and decanter went for substantially more than they hoped, and when all was said and done they had several hundred gold pieces between them. Needless to say, they had never seen so much money in all their lives. It was quite a healthy start for two young adventurers. 

They both sent a good chunk of the funds back to their families at home, and then headed to the market.
Hulgor spent most of his newly acquired wealth on a brand new set of half-plate. He looked positively dignified, but inside the shining armor was still the same old Hulgor.

“About those tools I owe you…” he stammered as they stood in front of a merchant stall.

“I can get it myself, I don’t need _your_ money.” She replied curtly. “Besides, you should probably save your precious gold for the wenches.”

Hulgor’s jaw dropped.

“Yeah, I saw the way they crowded around you at the tavern, ‘Oh Hulgor, you’re so strong! Oh Hulgor, you’re so big and brave, how did you ever rescue those poor people from the terrible ratmen?” She teased, putting her hand to her cheek in mock admiration.

“It’s not my fault!” he stammered. “I didn’t go looking for them or anything… I was drinking!”

“Oh, so it’s ok as long as you’re drinking? I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

The merchant coughed discreetly and did a rather poor job of minding his own business.
Without bothering to look, Gwennid slammed down the gold, stuffed her new tools into her pouch, and stormed off. 

Hulgor sighed, rolled his eyes at the merchant, and followed her. 

When he finally caught up with the feisty redhead, she was at the end of merchant row examining a beautiful Palfrey. The stable master wasn’t at all happy with her offer thus far, complaining loudly and repeatedly about the many mouths he had to feed at home.
“I’ll give you 75 for him, and that’s my final offer.” She stated flatly. 
The merchant threw up his hands in frustration.

“A horse? Whaddya need a horse for?” Hulgor asked.

“Well, I don’t want to walk all the way to Endhome, now do I?” she shot back.

“I dunno, I thought we were going to hire on to a caravan? We could just ride on one of the wagons or somethin’.”

“It’s not my fault you spent all your gold on armor. I don’t want to ride on some stinking wagon, got it?” she retorted.

“Yeah, but that means I’ll have to walk beside ya then.” Hulgor complained.

“I don’t see a problem with that.” She paused, “Alright, fine.”

She turned to the merchant, who was earnestly hoping this exchange would somehow turn things to his favor. “I tell you what, I’ll give you 150 for this one and the brown courser over there.” She pointed to a horse she looked at earlier. 

“Absolutely not!” he bellowed. “I have children to feed! My wife will kill me if I accept your paltry offer.” 

Hulgor choked back a laugh.

“Ok, 175, and throw in the saddles and bridles, and you’ve got a deal.” Gwynnid retorted, all business.

The merchant thought for a second, and then slammed his palm down on the fence rail. “Deal! My starving children thank you.” He said with obvious sarcasm.

Gwynnid winked at Hulgor and socked him playfully in the shoulder as the two rode out of the stables and down the busy street. 

The next few days passed lazily by. They had plenty of gold now even after their purchases to enjoy themselves lavishly. When The Shackling ended, it was easy enough to find work on a caravan heading south to Endhome.


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jun 25, 2005)

Nice one Munin, solid writing so far. I'm enjoying this. 

What level are these characters? Just wondering about Kyton's etc.

Looking forward to the next one.

Spider J


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## Munin (Jun 27, 2005)

Session IV, part I
_savagery in the Duskmoon hills_​


Hulgor shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. He was no stranger to horses, but nearly two weeks of constant riding was beginning to take its toll on his backside. Since leaving Muffin’s Honor his days had been a fantastically boring combination of riding, sleeping and eating, and far too little of the latter two for his taste. The caravan train could only move as fast as the slowest wagon, which meant they cut a turtle’s pace of less than five leagues a day across the rolling landscape. They awoke at first light, usually after a long night watch, readied the horses and wagons, wolfed down a quick breakfast and started out. A cold lunch of hard tack and jerky eaten from horseback served as lunch. Dinner was the highlight of Hulgor’s day, when the men would pass ‘round the ale and relive the glories of days gone by. 

Toward the end of the second week, the headmaster informed them that the caravan was taking a shortcut through Fool’s Pass, a seldom-used road that cut right through the Duskmoon hills and connected up with  Traveler’s Way. It was risky, he said, but would shave nearly four days off the trip. 

At this point, _anything_ would be welcome to break up the monotony as far as Hulgor was concerned, and late in the afternoon on the second day in the pass, something did. 

The shadows were growing long on the grey hills, casting a gray shroud over the caravan. Hulgor could feel the tension growing amongst the guard. The light conversation that was normally a constant but welcome part of the day trickled and finally stopped altogether as the guards cast uneasy glances over their shoulders at the dark pools of shadows gathering around the hills, searching in vain for some hidden watcher. 

It was Gwennid who spotted them first, catching a glint of light reflecting off a spear tip. She and Hulgor were patrolling the middle of the caravan, each on either side of a large grain wagon. At the same moment that she shouted a warning, a caravan driver further up the train screamed out: “*Grimlocks*!” and reached for his sword.

As one, dozens of grimlocks leapt up from the ambush at the top of a crest and hurled their javelins at the long, lumbering caravan train. Screams filled the air as men were struck and fell. The creatures raced down the hill, cruel stone axes in hand, and battle was joined. Hulgor set his back to a wagon and met the charge head-on. One of the filthy gray-skinned creatures swung wildly at the half-orc, who parried a blow that would have easily lopped off his head had it struck. He ducked and narrowly missed a second overhead chop that bit into the wooden side of the wagon, sending a painful spray of splinters into his cheek. 

Beside him, a guard had his legs cut out from under him and went down with a scream. Even with his foe writhing on the ground in agony, the grimlock did not let up in his attack, but continued to hack at him mercilessly with his axe. The man’s cries were brutally cut short.

Gwen was in a desperate predicament: two grimlocks had quickly surrounded her, looking for an easy kill. She ducked and weaved but did not entirely avoid the razor-sharp axes. Blood flowed freely from a jagged cut on her shoulder. Try as she might, she just could not hit them. Her twin blades danced in her hands, but the savages stayed just out of reach. The guard next to her had his head nearly severed from an axe-blow, dropping instantly with a spray of blood that soaked the nearby wagon.

Hulgor sidestepped an attack and brought his axe up in a short arc with all of his might, burying the thick blade deep in his foe’s stomach, lifting him of the ground and dropping him in a heap at his feet. He turned, swung, and tore a chunk out of the shoulder of the second grimlock. The creature twisted and swung his axe in a wide, low circle, slicing across Hulgor’s thigh, through the armor and deep into his flesh. Out of the corner of his eye, Hulgor saw the wagon driver fall and the attacker turn to face him. He shifted his stance to compensate for the second attacker, trying to watch both at the same time. 

At the back of the wagon, Gwennid landed a solid blow, plunging her blade deep into the creature’s soft stomach. To her dismay, it jerked back, but _did not fall_. The second grimlock countered and would have cut her arm clean off had she not jerked back at the last second. Still, she had a second nasty cut on her forearm, and almost dropped her sword. Knowing she wouldn’t last much longer, she jumped back and dove underneath the wagon, buying herself a few precious seconds while she considered her shrinking options.

The two grimlocks facing Hulgor launched a perfectly timed assault. He parried one attack and tried to duck out of the way of the second, but his opponent adjusted his swing and slammed his blade into the plate covering his chest. Hulgor stumbled back, dazed from the hit. His nice new armor spared him a lethal blow, but it now had an ugly ding. “I’ll be takin’ that from yer hide, ya filthy wretch,” he growled in a low voice at the grimlock.

The second grimlock lunged forward to finish him off, but didn’t anticipate how quickly his opponent could recover. Hulgor turned the attack and then drove his blade deep into the grimlock’s shoulder, nearly cutting him in two. Before the other grimlock could respond, he leapt to the side, swung, and cut his head off his shoulders. 

Underneath the wagon, Gwennid easily kept the grimlocks at bay. To her left, she watched two guardsmen coming up on them from behind, swords in hand. She kept them distracted until the men attacked. One grimlock screamed and fell as the man hacked at him from behind. The other spun around with surprising speed and cut down the first guard. Gwen rolled out from underneath the wagon and slipped in behind the grimlock. Now _he_ was the one who was outnumbered.

The grimlock feinted to one side and then swung at the second guard from the other. As the guard deflected the blow, Gwen buried her sword in the creature’s side. He dropped to his knees, and Gwen kicked the dying creature face first into the blood-soaked mud. 

The grimlocks broke and fled back up the hill, but the caravan train was now in complete disarray. Several horse teams panicked during the assault, causing many of the wagons to either flip or become stuck in the soft earth on the side of the road. The fallen were strewn along the roadside, and the moaning of the wounded filled the air.

“*MOVE YOUR BUTTS!*” the caravan master shouted to the shocked men. “Get those wagons ready! Collect the fallen, the living and the dead, and get them on the rear wagons. *MOVE!*”
The crew sprang into action, men running back and forth with renewed vigor. The unvoiced but very real fear of the grimlocks returning for a second attack pushed them into action even more than the bellowing caravan master. 

Less than an hour later, the train was once again on the move. Hulgor and Gwen, though hurt, were well enough to ride, so they were put at the front, scouting for possible ambush. The caravan master didn’t allow the train to stop until deep into the night, afraid that the grimlocks might be following them. It was a rough night for everyone. They lost five men in the initial attack, and another two by morning. Including the wounded, their numbers had been cut in half. The next morning, they buried their dead. 

Fortunately, the day passed by without incident. Late in the afternoon, Hulgor spotted the first totem. In all there were at least fifty of them, lining the northern side of the road. Most were knocked over and defaced, but those in the center of the long row were still intact. They were orc totems, he could see easily enough, the face of the one-eyed orc god sat atop each pole, beneath which were various depictions of gruesomely slain men, elves and dwarves. 

Behind the totems was a large hill, an offshoot of the Dragonspire Mountains. At the base of the hill were two large gates that affronted an opening at its base. One had been torn off its hinge and lay on it side. The other was still intact, but badly burned. Still plain to see in the middle of it was a crudely drawn orc-face, with the words “_enter not or be crushed_” written above in the orcish tongue. 

He leaned over and pointed the writing out to Gwen, translating it for her. He then turned to one of the Wagoners. “What’s that all about?” he asked, pointing to the ruined gates.

“Used to be an orc tribe that lived there, years ago, but men of Endhome ran ‘em out. Was a pitched battle right at this very spot, from what I hear,” the old man replied. “Some folks say there’s still orcs livin’ deep in them caves, but I ain’t never seen one, and I’ve made this trip dozens a times.”

Hulgor looked over at Gwen, who made a hasty notation on the map they purchased back in Muffin’s Honor. 

Later that night…

The two had gained new respect among the guards after their success against the grimlocks, which in turn earned them the most dangerous middle watch during the night. Their wounds, while far from healed, were at least properly bandaged, and the pain had lessened from a constant burning sensation to a low, dull ache. 

They warmed themselves by the fire against the crisp night air. “I heard we’ll be out of these hills by tomorrow,” Gwennid said softly. “We should be in Endhome a couple of days after that.” Just thinking of the bustling city was enough to lift her spirits. All the adventure the bustling city promised, and more importantly, all the _wealth_ the city boasted. 

“What then?” Hulgor asked.

“I dunno, I guess we’ll hit the taverns and see if we can find work. I can’t say that I know how adventurers  go about finding adventure, but it shouldn’t be hard, if what they say of the city is true, intrigue around every corner and in every dark alley and all that. We did pretty good for ourselves in Muffin’s Honor, imagine what we can do in Endhome!”

“I can _imagine_ two little fish in a really big pond, that’s what I can imagine, Gwen.”

“Nonsense. Have you looked at yourself lately? Country boys don’t walk around in plate, Hulgor. We’ll do just fine, I’m telling you, we’re destined for big things, Hulgor. *Big. Things.*”

Hulgor started to reply, but a strange scent caught his attention. He stopped with the words still in his mouth and sniffed the air. It smelled like…decay, he thought, and death.

Behind them, a twig snapped…

The caravan master circled the wagons each night, and the two had taken temporary refuge from the gusting wind inside the circle. Gwennid crept around one side of the wagon for a better look. Hulgor reached over, grabbed a stick from the fire, and hurled it over the wagon. It hit a nearby scrub tree, which immediately caught fire. 

To her horror, Gwennid saw two zombies, rotting flesh still clinging to their creaking bones, moving toward them at a slow but determined pace. The dancing light from the fire played upon the faces of the creatures, drawing out their shadows and giving them an even more menacing appearance. Perhaps they were drawn in by the light of the campfire, or perhaps they had caught the scent of the wounded men sleeping in the wagons, but whatever the reason, they were approaching the encampment with the implacable resolve of the undead.

Hulgor leapt up, grabbed his axe, and moved between two wagons to block their approach. He could see no weapons in those putrescent hands, but the cold, dead eyes watched him with feral cunning. When they closed to within a few feet, the zombies lunged forward with an unexpected burst of speed. Hulgor sliced open the stomach of the nearest one, spilling out maggot filled innards, but the creature seemed unfazed by the mortal wound. It snarled and slammed into him. Hulgor was almost overcome by the incredible stench of the creature.

Gwennid sounded the alarm and engaged the second undead. She was stiff and sore from the battle with the grimlocks, and so did not move with her usual grace. She attacked, but the creature parried the blow with its bare hand, oblivious to the injury, and raked its claws across her chest, causing an explosion of pain to ripple across her body. She nearly wretched at the thought of those fetid claws digging into her. She fought back the urge to flee.

Next to her, Hulgor faired no better. He swung his axe a second time, sending the creature’s arm flying across the clearing, but the undead simply grabbed his axe shaft with its other hand and bit down into the unprotected flesh of his wrist. Hulgor screamed, his entire body went into convulsions, it felt like all of his muscles were cramping at once. To his horror he realized that he could not move!

Not realizing her friend’s plight, Gwennid once again sought refuge under the wagon. From the sound of the footsteps behind her, she knew that help was near. The zombie was single-minded, though, and crawled down beside the wagon after her. It snarled, bearing twisted, jagged teeth, and swiped at her with boney claws, seeking to drag her out from under the wagon. She jabbed the zombie in the face with her sword, shattering teeth, but it did no good. She swung her sword and sliced off the arm that the undead was using to balance itself, toppling it over into the mud. 

Suddenly she heard Hulgor’s stifled pleas for help. She rolled out passed the flailing zombie to the other side of the wagon and stabbed the zombie from behind. At the same time, reinforcements arrived in the form of two guards. One grabbed the paralyzed, panicking Hulgor and drug him to safety while the other jammed his spear into the zombie, swung it around and pinned it to the earth. Gwennid turned and stabbed the zombie still wallowing in the mud next to the wagon again and again, until it finally stopped moving.


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## Munin (Jun 27, 2005)

SJ,

Thanks again for the kind words, you don't know how encouraging they can be. 

The characters were 1st level at this point. The finale of _The Devil Box_ called for a battle against 3 standard imps and a weakened kyton, which would have been a tough fight at 1st level, even for a standard party.

For the final battle, I took out two of the imps, figuring they were out and about, but they still had a tough time with it, even with the two kobolds helping out. All's well that ends well, I suppose, but I'm left with loose ends in the form of those two imps, and I haven't decided if I'm going to bring them back into the story, or just assume that they disapeared into the countryside to work their own mischief. Any ideas would be appreciated!

We just concluded the 11th or 12th session, and they are about halfway to 4th, in case you're interested. Even using a half-xp system, they are still progressing pretty quickly!

My goal is to update once a week, on Mondays.


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## iLoVeKobolds (Jun 27, 2005)

This is really awesome!
You are doing such a great job at writing! Keep up the good work!
Am I really that much of a smartass?
NOT ME! 
Anyhoo, Keep up the good work!


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## Munin (Jun 27, 2005)

> Am I really that much of a smartass?



Lest I incriminate myself, I'll just let the storyhour speak for itself...

Why don't you introduce yourself to the forum, though?


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## Spider_Jerusalem (Jun 27, 2005)

> Thanks again for the kind words, you don't know how encouraging they can be.



No problem, all of us SH's are in the very same boat. It's great to get a response to your writing (check out A Chronicle of Ice, Luck and Honour if you'd like to return the favour!  ) 

Sounds like it would have been a tough fight. 1st level characters are built out of putty. Far to easy to kill. 4th level is where is starts to get good... looking forward to seeing these guys progress.

As for the imps... Of course!!! bring them back. you have to. players love that stuff - when something they saw happen ages ago comes back to haunt them. Or maybe that's just a personal thing. I don't know.

Once a week should be good. I'll keep my eyes peeled.

Spider J


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## iLoVeKobolds (Jun 27, 2005)

Munin said:
			
		

> Why don't you introduce yourself to the forum, though?




Very well...*ahem*

I am Veronica, the lucky wife of Munin (Sam)
aka Gwennid the Thief/Rogue/Scout and all around troublemaker.  
Regardless of what any of you read on this SH, you should know that I am sweet, benevolent
and kind.  I never talk back and I always watch out for the safety of others over my own.  
Oh, yeah, I'm also a habitual liar.  Not really.


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## Munin (Jul 7, 2005)

Session IV, part II
_entering Endhome and the Tangled Web_​
The next morning, Hulgor awoke burning with fever. He was so weak he could hardly move and so ended up in the rear wagon with the rest of the wounded men. Knowing full well the superstition of men, Gwennid took the rear watch to better keep an eye on her friend. Just as she suspected, guards eyed him warily, and whispered that anyone bitten by a zombie would awake the next day as one himself. She was afraid the men would simply toss him out of the wagon and let him die on the side of the road, but either because of her constant vigilance or because of his heroics the day before, the men did nothing more than make wards against evil with their hands and keep a watchful eye on the half-orc. 

By midday the train passed out of the Duskmoon hills and out into gently rolling grasslands. Farmsteads, the first signs of civilization in days, began to dot the land. Two days later, about the same time that Hulgor’s fever finally broke, the caravan train reached the great iron gates of Endhome. 

Endhome was built on the fertile delta where the Gaeon river fed into the Sinar ocean. Thirty-foot high stone walls protected her citizens, and were patrolled regularly by men armed with spears and crossbows. Towers, spaced at regular intervals, sported massive ballista along with the regular contingent of watchmen. At the gates, clerks took record of all goods that passed into the city and assessed a tax, which was the main income of the city. Endhome was a small city-state surrounded by much stronger nations. Its wealth and militaristic bent ensured its independence for hundreds of years. 

The road leading in to Endhome was choked with traffic. It took two hours from the gates to reach the central market, where the caravan crew began unloading goods. Hulgor and Gwennid joined the line of guardsmen awaiting their pay. 

“What’s this?” Hulgor grumbled when the caravan master dropped eight gold into his hand.

“That’s your pay, son. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“That’s it? We saved yer bacon back in the hills, and all we git is a lousy eight gold?” Hulgor was incredulous. 

“And for that I’m thankful, but it’s twice what the others are getting, so take your money and beat it.” The man replied bluntly. 

Gwennid took Hulgor by the arm and pulled him away. She could tell by the look in his eye that the half-orc was about to swing, and that’s the last thing they needed. “C’mon, it’s not worth it, Hulgor. It got us here, didn’t it? I would hate to have faced those things alone. We need to find a place to stay, anyway.”


A few minutes later…

The pair stood in front of the Heaven’s Gate Inn. They were told that it was the pride of the city, and from the outside they couldn’t imagine a more palatial establishment. Five stories of white marble walls, crystal windows and an expertly manicured lawn dominated their view. A six-foot wall, covered in a thick growth of ivy, surrounded the entire complex. In the rear there was even a separate servant’s quarters and stables.

As they passed the front gates and walked up to the carved double-doors, an elderly steward approached. “Will you be guests at the Heaven’s Gate tonight?” he asked.

“Well,” Gwennid responded, “that depends on how much it will cost.”

“Ahem. If you have to ask, madam, perhaps you should consider one of Endhome’s less…exclusive establishments.”

Hulgor cleared his throat and folded massive arms across his thick chest. He glared down at the frail steward and narrowed his eyes.

The man glanced behind Gwennid to the large half-orc standing behind her. “I see,” stammered the steward, “well, the pricing is all-inclusive, and starts at eight gold pieces per night for our standard rooms. From there the price increases up to fifty a night for our Imperial Suite, which is currently taken. Heaven’s Gate IS the most exclusive resort in the city. We regularly host foreign dignitaries, as well as important members of Endhome society. Proper attire and conduct is expected at ALL times.” He said the last while going over their clothes with a critical eye.

“I think this will do nicely, what do you think, Hulgor?” asked Gwen.

The half-orc grunted his agreement, and much to the dislike of the steward the pair continued into the inn, followed by a small train of young attendants carrying their meager luggage behind them, while a small assembly of stable boys began tending to their horses. 

Heaven’s Gate lived up to its name. Each room was assigned a waiter, who saw to the needs of the guests. Scented baths were immediately provided for the hot, dusty travelers, and when that was done, Gwen collapsed into the thick, down-filled bed. She sank into the white comforter and let out a deep sigh. _This is the life_, she thought.

A private dinner was held each night on the fifth floor of the inn. It was more than a simple dinner, they were informed, it was a regular gathering of the social elite of the city. It sounded like an excellent opportunity to Gwennid, who wanted to make some connections with the upper crust. 

When she was young, Gwennid caught a glimpse of the liege lord of her province and his wife. She remembered the splendor of their dress, the air of dignity and authority that surrounded them, which spoke more of their position than any title. At the time, she couldn’t imagine seeing greater wealth and grace than that, but she saw it tonight. Even with the finery provided by her waiter, she felt grossly underdressed. Gwennid was sure that some of the ladies wore dresses that were worth more than her entire village and everything in it, and poor Hulgor looked like something out of a comedy in a bursting-at-the-seams suit that was much, much to small for his frame. She couldn’t possibly have felt more out of place. _But_, she thought, _I’m here now, might as well make the best of it._

From their vantage point near the back of the room, Gwennid could make out the three most prominent players. On a raised dais in one corner sat a portly middle-aged gentleman. He had an inviting smile and a hearty laugh. In the shadow of a pillar behind him stood a grim, dangerous character who eyed everyone who approached the dais with suspicion. 

Sitting in a slightly smaller table near the exact middle of the room sat a strikingly handsome man with black hair and a neatly trimmed black mustache. He had olive skin and piercing green eyes. Next to him sat an equally beautiful woman with similar features whom she assumed to be his sister. Unlike the other table, which was a flurry of activity, the pair sat alone, in quiet conversation between themselves.

On the other side of the room at another prominent table was an older gentleman with a full crown of white hair and a trimmed beard. He was a large man and had the grim look of a soldier about him, despite the fine attire. He paid little heed to the others, instead focusing on a thick steak and pint of ale. 

She motioned her waiter over to her table, “I’m sorry, I’m newly arrived to Endhome,” she began, trying her best to mask a small-town accent. “Who are these gentlemen? I can tell by appearances that they are important figures.”

The waiter cleared his throat, and began by discreetly pointing to the portly man on the dais. “That would be the governor of Endhome, Ranlan Pool, currently running for re-election, the gentleman behind him is his personal bodyguard Kilgore Spink, not a fellow to be trifled with.” He pointed out a man sitting next to him with a neatly trimmed goatee and ponytail. “That, is Stylus Kant, the current headmaster of the Wizard’s Academy.” 

He then turned to the couple in the center of the room. “Here we have Lurton and Amelia Gaspar. Their place among Endhome’s social elite isn’t so much secure as it is unassailable, they ARE the elite of the elite.”

“Finally, there’s Fernando Quinchino. Don’t let his appearance fool you, he is a very dangerous man. Together, they represent three of the most important factions of Endhome. The only other family of their ilk not in attendance are the Pulanti, but they have not made a public appearance in some time now.”

“Oh really?” Hulgor followed Gwennid’s lead and enunciated each word carefully. “Are they well?”

The waiter coughed softly.

Hulgor frowned and slid a gold piece across the table, which the waiter quietly pocketed.

“Well, the rumors are flying, but this I do know: none of the Pulanti clan has been seen in months, the grounds of the Pulanti estate have fallen into disrepair, many of the household servants have been dismissed or gone missing, and some have reported strange noises coming from the depths of the mansion in the middle of the night.”

“Has no one investigated?” Gwennid asked.

“To be sure, questions have been asked, but one does not _investigate_ the Pulantis. They are the oldest, wealthiest family in the city.”

“Interesting,” said Hulgor. “What of the others?”

The waiter again coughed discreetly.

Hulgor slid over a gold piece with a growing frown; this information gathering business was getting expensive.

“As I’m sure you know,” the waiter began, “elections are coming up soon. Ranlan is backed by the powerful guilds of the middle-class, but the old money wants to put one of theirs in charge. Both the Gaspar and the Quinchinos have fronted a candidate, so there is plenty of intrigue and politicking to go around, and it will only get worse the closer we come to Election Day.”

“Sounds like an excellent opportunity for two discriminating yet capable sellswords.” Gwennid replied casually.

“Surely.”

She pressed forward, “Perhaps you know of someone who could put it in the ears of any possible employers that the aforementioned swords are looking for hire?”

“I may know of someone,” he said, looking down at the spot on the table where Hulgor had passed over his gold pieces. Hulgor groaned quietly, and slid over five more.

“As it so happens,” the waiter said as he took the gold, “I know just the person to talk to. I think you’ll find productive employment in no time at all.”


The next morning…

It didn’t take long at all for Hulgor’s investment to pay off. As the pair ate their breakfast in the lower dining room, a figure approached the table. He was well dressed, and carried himself in a professional, confident manner. “May I join you?” he asked.

“Certainly,” Hulgor replied.

The man got right to business. “It has come to my attention that the two of you are looking for employment. Is that so?” He looked the pair over as he spoke, his gaze was intense, and searching.

“Yes.” said Hulgor

“Good. My employer is very well financed, and is interested in a discreet, unattached third party to carry out some simple tasks. Secrecy and professionalism are of the utmost importance. Would you be interested?”

“May I ask who your employer is?” Gwennid asked.

“No.”

“Go on,” she replied, undaunted.

“It is in the best interest of my employer that we first determine your trustworthiness and ability. To that end, I have an offer that will test those two qualities.” He paused to sip his drink.
“There is an individual, who for reasons that are unknown to us, has taken up dwelling in the sewers west of here. I need you to contact him and deliver this message.” He handed Hulgor a scroll sealed with wax. 
He continued, “Find this person, deliver the message, and return here. It’s that simple.”

“Uh, can we get a name?” Hulgor asked.

“No.”

“Well, how do we find this person if we don’t know his name?”

The man thought for a few seconds before answering, “This individual is a practicer of the forbidden arts, that should in itself provide enough information to identify him. But if not, I will also share with you that not too long ago this person ran an opium den that was operated from an abandoned sewer canal.”

“That’s not a whole lot of information,” Gwennid noted.

“Precisely. But this IS your profession, is it not? When you return, assuming you succeed, you will be given a payment of 300 gold pieces, and additional, more lucrative assignments. Do we have a concord?”

Hulgor and Gwennid looked at each other. “Yes,” they replied together.


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## Munin (Jul 7, 2005)

Sorry for the delay in posting this week's session. I normally try to post on Monday, but the holiday threw me off.

Enjoy!


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## Arkhandus (Jul 8, 2005)

I've only read the first few posts so far, but I'll keep on reading.  Kudos!


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## Bryon_Soulweaver (Jul 8, 2005)

How 'bout an update?


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## Munin (Jul 8, 2005)

> How 'bout an update?



Yes sir! Look for the conclusion of session IV Monday!

Arkhandus, I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. The story really picks up over the next couple of sessions as Gwennid and Hulgor involve themselves in the politics of Endhome and start to explore the area around the city. I hope you'll enjoy reading about it as much as we enjoyed playing it.

As always, questions, comments and criticisms are welcome.


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## Munin (Jul 11, 2005)

Session IV, part III
_Hulgor and Gwennid in the big city._

Though not a true slum, the western area of Endhome was a seedy place. The watch was much less active here than in the merchant district, and conversely the street life was far more abundant.
Not knowing exactly where to begin their search, Hulgor approached a scantily dressed harlot standing nearby. 

Before he even got the chance to speak, the harlot made her move. She put an arm around him and drew a line across his breastplate with a painted fingernail. The heavy scent of perfume mixed with old sweat clung to her as she spoke. “My my, you’re a big boy. What’s your pleasure, hon?”

Gwennid slapped the woman’s hand off of his chest as her temper flared. “Hands off, tramp, he’s not here for that!”

The streetwalker was unfazed. She turned to Gwennid and gave her a soft, sultry stare, “Oh, that’s ok, hon, if that’s your liking, but it’ll cost ya extra.”

Gwennind was aghast. “No! No! *NO!*” she exclaimed. “It’s information we want! Not…that.”

The change in the woman was immediate; all flirtatiousness vanished. “Whatever, hon, but that’ll cost ya too. A girl’s got to make a livin', ya know.”

Already familiar with the drill, Hulgor reached in his pouch and handed her a few gold coins.

Gwennid continued, “There used to be an opium den around here, operated out of the sewers. I think it’s closed now. Do you know where it is?”

“Ya don’t want one that’s closed, do ya, hon? I know of a few that are open if you're lookin' to chase the dragon.”

“No, we need that one. Do you know where it is or not?”

“Sure, sure, hon, I know where it’s at, no need to get pushy. C’mon, I’ll take ya.”

The woman started off down a side street and the two followed, but Hulgor was unconvinced. He didn’t like throwing his money away, and he didn’t want to throw his hard-earned coin away, and on some whore at that. As far as he knew, she could point to any old sewer grate and he’d be none the wiser. So as they walked along he spotted a couple of street urchins playing marbles near some steps.

“Psst.” He called to the boys.

One of them looked up and warily walked over to the half-orc. “Whatcha need, mister?” he asked cautiously.

“We’re lookin fer an old opium den, closed not too long ago. Know where it’s at?”

“Yup, I know where everything is ‘round here.” The boy replied confidentially. 

About that time, the woman stopped near an old, broken wooden fence. At her feet was a grated sewer entrance. “That’s the one,” she said casually, "I used to come here all the time. Can’t imagine why ya’d need it now, not that it’s any a my business."

Hulgor looked at the boy, who folded his arms and shook his head.

The woman glared at the boy. “Get outta here ya little rat! You don’t know nuthin!” she spat.

“I know that ain’t the right spot, you stupid wench!” he shot back.

The two bickered back and forth in an ever more colorful stream of profanity. Hulgor went from shocked bemusement to irritation, which steadily blossomed into impatience and anger. Finally, he lost his patience. He grabbed the boy and spun him around. “Look kid, I ain’t got time for games, is this it or not? Don’t you lie to me now!” he barked, waving a meaty finger in the boy’s face. 

Hulgor was never very good at judging people, and this time was no different. He really didn’t want to scare the kid, but by the look of abject terror on the boy’s face, that was exactly what he had done. His face pale went white, and tears welled up in his eyes.

Suddenly, the boy kicked him hard in the shin. Though it didn’t hurt, by reflex Hulgor let go of him. The boy dashed down to the end of the alley, snatched up a rock, threw it, and hit Hulgor square in the chest. The rock bounced off his chestplate, leaving yet another ding. He then disappeared into the crowds.

“Well, that certainly cleared things up, now didn’t it, Hulgor?” Gwennid remarked dryly as she watched the kid disappear into a throng of people. 

The harlot cleared her throat. “If you two won’t be needing anythin else…” she said idly while drawing a line through the sand with her foot.

Hulgor paid her for her services, and the woman left.

Once they were alone, Hulgor lifted the heavy iron cover and peered down into the dark orifice. The stench was overpowering, and they hadn’t even climbed down yet.
“Well,” he said as he climbed down the iron ladder, “if the wench told us the truth, we should find the place in no time at all.”


3 hours later…

“Face it Hulgor, we got taken,” Gwennid muttered as they came to yet another intersection in the filthy maze. She was nauseous to the point of being light-headed, and in desperate want of fresh air.

“Just one more block,” he replied. “We have to be close.”

“No we don’t! We don’t have to be close at all! For all you know it could be on the other side of…” On the narrow catwalk ahead of her she noticed something out of place: a pile of fresh dirt. When she got closer she noticed another pile, spilling over the catwalk and into the fetid stream. 
“That’s odd,” she remarked as she knelt down next to the pile. She examined the lichen-covered wall next to the piles, and at first noticed nothing out of the way, but then, something about the bricks just didn’t look right. She looked closer, though just as slimy as the rest of the tunnel wall, this area was made with newer brick. It could have been a patch job, she thought, that would explain the dirt. But no, the dirt was too fresh. 

She ran her hand around the perimeter of the new section and found a loose brick. First, she tried to pull it out, but didn’t budge. Then, she pushed it in. *click*.

The section of the wall opened on a hidden hinge. She opened the door just wide enough to poke her head through. Behind the hidden door was a large room; there were two doors on her right side, and two doors on the opposite wall. The room was littered with debris, old rotten pillows, lounge chairs, and hookahs. ‘_Bingo_!’ She thought.

She opened the door a little more and crept inside. Hulgor followed. A trail of dirt ran from where she was to the furthest door on the right. That puzzled her. She pointed it out to Hulgor, who just shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the closest door on the right.

She snuck up to the door and listened: nothing. She turned the handle and gingerly opened it. _Something_ hit the door on the other side, sending her stumbling backwards as she tried to recover her balance. Two dog-like creatures with mottled brown flesh and long, spine-like manes leapt out at her. They let out a long, baleful howl, and as they did the skin around their faces peeled back, laying bare the eyes, teeth and snout of the beasts. The grotesque visage was horrible to behold. Gwennid screamed in terror and fled through the doorway and down the tunnel in a panic, nearly slipping into the effluent stream as she did.

Not wanting to fight the two dogs by himself, Hulgor kicked the door shut before they could run through and threw his weight against it. The beasts slammed against the other side, but Hulgor didn’t budge. He looked around for something to jam the door with, but nothing was at hand. He knew he couldn’t hold out forever, either he or the door itself would finally give way. 

About that time, the other door on the right side opened, and a man poked his head through. “Whaddya want? What’s yer business here?”

“We have…a message…for the owner of this den,” he replied, as the dogs continued their assault on the door.

The man’s forehead wrinkled as he thought, Hulgor could almost see the wheels turning in the man’s mind. Suddenly  he shut the door. A few seconds later, it opened again, this time, an older man stepped through. He dressed in simple commoner’s clothing, but carried himself with an air of authority. He eyed Hulgor suspiciously as spoke. “I am the owner of this building. What do you want?” he asked, and then shouted at the creatures behind the door, “*SILENCE!*”

Immediately the ‘dogs’ relented.

“We were sent here to deliver this message,” Hulgor said between heavy breaths. He handed the man the scroll they had been given.

“We?” he replied, asking the obvious question. 

About that time, Gwennid came running back into the room. She was panting for breath, and when she looked at Hulgor she blushed deeply.

As the man read the message, two creatures pushing wheelbarrows filled with dirt entered the room from the far right door. With a shock Gwennid realized that the creatures were dretches, and took an involuntary step back as they passed by. She watched the two demons as they took their load to the sewage stream and dumped it in. 
‘_So that’s where the dirt came from,_’ she thought.

“That’s none of your concern, woman.” said the man, before she could ask the question that was in her mouth.

He turned his attention back to the message, and after a brief minute casually discarded it as if it were nothing at all. As it drifted down to the dirt filled floor, Gwennid noticed for the first time that the parchment was blank on both sides. While she pondered that mystery, another astonishing thing happened: as soon as the page touched the floor, it burst into flame and quickly disintegrated into ash.

He looked intently at the two strangers in his den. “Tell your master that his terms are acceptable,” was all he said, and then he turned to leave. Hulgor and Gwennid looked at each other, shrugged, and then looked back at the man. About halfway to the door, he stopped and turned around. He held his finger in the air as if a thought just occurred to him.

“The two of you do not seem to be quite as imbecilic as most members of your ‘profession’,” he began, “if you happen across any ancient texts, particularly anything concerning the lower planes, or if you chance upon anything of an arcane nature, I would be willing to purchase such things from you, or trade for appropriate services. I am Bezlur Orloff, and this is my assistant, Kaiser. For the time being I can be found here, though in the not too distant future that may change. If so, your master can inform you of my location. Kaiser will show you a less offensive manner of entering my abode.”

With that, the man left.

Kaiser motioned for them to follow. They went through the second right-hand passageway, and down a long corridor. As he passed a doorway on his left, Hulgor glanced inside and noticed the two dretches coming from a rough-hewn corridor, wheelbarrows full of freshly dug earth and stone. They passed down a second corridor and into an unused sewage line. There they were shown to an iron-rung ladder that ascended back to the surface. 

When Hulgor lifted the grating and climbed out of the tunnel, he was surprised to see the boy he frightened off earlier waiting there for him, arms crossed and foot tapping.

“I told you I knew the way! You big fat stupid orc!” the boy yelled and then took off down the alleyway as quickly as his feet would carry him.

“Now that kid has something to prove,” Hulgor nodded to Gwennid as he watched the boy disappear into the streets with something akin to admiration.


Back at Heaven’s Gate…

Not surprisingly, Hulgor and Gwennid were most definitely NOT allowed to enter the inn smelling as if they had just rolled around in a privy. In a not-to-dignified manner, they were stripped down in the servant’s quarters, given a steaming hot bath, and provided with fresh clothes.

When they finally entered the inn proper, they found their new employer having a drink at a table. He motioned for them to join him, and ordered a new round of drinks.

“We found your man,” Gwennid began, “and he said your terms are acceptable.”

“I know.” he replied casually

Gwennid and Hulgor looked perplexed, so the man explained, “He contacted my employer before you arrived. The important thing is you succeeded in your assignment.”
He reached down and set a leather pouch on the table. “Here is your payment, as we agreed.”

“You said something of additional work,” Gwennid remarked offhandedly.

“Why yes, I did. But for that, we will need to retire to a more private location. Please, follow me.”

The man led them to a private meeting room, and once they were alone, formally introduced himself. “My name is Daven. I hope that we have a long and mutually beneficial business partnership. As I said before, my employer does have other, eh…difficulties that need to be resolved.”

“Which would be?” asked Hulgor.

“No doubt you have heard of the Green Tree Bandits?”

“Yeah, we heard of ‘em,” said Hulgor. In fact, he had heard more than a little talk of the Green Tree Bandits during their time with the caravan. They were a major concern going into the Penprie Forest area, though the caravan was lucky enough to avoid them.

“Then you are probably aware that the leader of this group of brigands is a man named Fell Tarmick. Not only is he a dangerous criminal, but he is also a possible source of embarrassment to my employer, which would be particularly unfortunate during the current political climate.”

“And your employer would be?” Gwennid pressed.

The man thought for a moment, his gaze drifting down to the drink in his hand. Just when she thought he wasn’t going to answer, he spoke. “It would behoove you not to divulge this information, but in this city it is important to know where you stand.” He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts.
“The Quinchino family* has been an upstanding member of the community for many years, and has an impeccable reputation. However, its history is not quite so spotless.”

“Part of that history is Fell Tarmick, I presume.” Gwennid asserted. 

Daven nodded, then continued. “Fernando Quinchino has nominated one of his own to run for the governor’s office. Coincidentally over the last few months the Green Trees have been especially active, to the point that the merchant guilds have finally taken notice and are maneuvering to capture or kill him. 
“If the family’s connection to Tarmick came to light, well, the affect among the electorate would be devastating.”

“So you want us to off Fell Tarmick.” Hulgor said unsubtly. 

“In a manner of speaking, yes. We need you to enter the Penprie Forest, discover his hideout, and eliminate him. It’s not as if he isn’t already a threat to society, there _is_ a price on his head, we just want the situation to come to a conclusion in fashion most favorable for our goals. 
“For this service, you will be paid 3,000 gold pieces.”

Gwennid choked back a cough. “Well, he is a criminal, and as you said, a threat to law-abiding citizens.” she looked over at Hulgor, who nodded his consent.

She took in a breath and looked Daven square in the eye, “We’ll take the job.”

“Good. Finding Fell won’t be easy. In the least I would expect it to take a couple of weeks just to locate his hideout, then you need to deal with the bandits themselves. Fell is not considered to be a particularly dangerous fighter himself, but he is cunning, and an effective tactician. He has outmaneuvered Bragger Bondhome’s men on several occasions. Don’t rush, be methodical. Trust me on this, you do not want to leave any loose ends with this man.
“I want weekly reports on your progress, but other than that you are free to handle this as you see fit. Any questions?”

“Yeah, we’ll need supplies and gear, how about you give us an advance on that money.” said Hulgor in his usual blunt manner.

Daven chuckled dryly. “You seem very well equipped to me, and I just paid you 300 coins for a morning’s work. No, I think you’ll manage with what you have.”

Gwennid cut in, “Alright then, Daven, we’ll get started in the morning.”

Daven stood and offered a firm handshake to both of them. “I wish you well. Good luck.” He said, then departed quickly.








*In retrospect, Daven should have withheld this bit of information. It would have been much more useful to the plot had I made them work for it a little longer. When I thought about it the day after the session, I felt like kicking myself, but the hour was late and the caffeine was running low, so I just went with it.​


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