# ForceUser's Vietnamese Adventures Story Hour! (finis)



## ForceUser (Jul 12, 2002)

Hoo boy. Lot of writing involved here, and I don't know if I'm up to the task. When I'm not playing D&D I'm usually playing computer games. But we'll give it a go 

*Setting*
The setting is feudal Vietnam, glamorized for fantasy D&D. Two hundred years ago, a hero of the people threw off the yoke of a thousand years of Chinese oppression, founding the first Ly dynasty and the Great Viet State. But the tiny empire of *Dai Viet*, as it is known, struggles to maintain its sovereignty amid the chaos of a Mongol-ruled China to the north and the opportunism of the hated hindu state of Champa to the south. Twice now the Viet have repelled Mongol invasions, and twice has the capitol, Thang Long, been conquered and sacked by Champa. It is a difficult period for the children of the Dragon King, and their turmoil will define a people as their deeds echo through history.

_*NOTE: I am not a historian. If you are familiar with the history and culture of Vietnam, you will find many flaws. I tried to remain true to the spirit of the setting without bogging myself down with months of research. I spent about two weeks reading up on various websites, printed what I needed, and made the rest up as I went along. If you have any helpful comments or insight on Vietnam you'd like to share, please do! They are welcome _

*Places*
China is called *Xiao Lung*. *Dai Viet* existed geographically within the Red River valley of what is now northern Vietnam. The modern city of Hanoi is the medieval city of *Thang Long*, which has long been the capitol of the Vietnamese people. The seat of Champa's power existed at the modern-day site of Da Nang. To the west of Dai Viet lies *Lan Xang*, the modern nation of Laos. To the southwest is *Siam* - today known as Thailand. In the jungles southwest of Champa is rumor of a bloody state known as *Angkor*, known today as Cambodia.

*Peoples*
Xiao (Chinese)
Viet
Khmer (loosely affiliated barbarian tribes)
Cham (east asian hindus)

*Protagonists*

*Bui-Gia Duc Tam,* a wu jen
*Han Vinh,* a no sheng of the White Crane school
*Han Woo,* a monk of the White Crane school
*Le Thi Mai,* a rogue of the _giang ju_ underworld
*Andou Hue Hien,* a shaman
*Long Lei,* a fighter and mercenary-for-hire

*Nguyen Qai Tran,* a young aristocrat
*Yao Ren Phai,* a sorcerer and mandarin in the Emperor's employ
*Chung Lah,* Yao Ren Phai's bodyguard and manservant
*Mister Ng,* the housekeeper 

Player character stats can be viewed here.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

_"Long ago, the Dragon King rose from the sea and took to wife a fairy princess, who bore him one hundred sons. But Au Co, the princess, soon came to long for the ancient jungles of her home, and asked her husband if she may return.

And though the Dragon King loved his wife dearly, he said, *"Go, heart of my heart, and return to your homeland. Take with you fifty sons, find them fifty brides, and build a great kingdom to honor Heaven."*

And so Au Co took her chosen sons and departed, and there was much joy and sorrow in that parting. She raised them to manhood and found them wives, and they raised a nation that endures yet today. 

That is why we celebrate the birth of our ancestors, to remind us that we are all *dong bao*, born of one womb."_

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Actual adventures to follow!


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 12, 2002)

*Session One, Part 1*

*LEI SAT* at a creaky table in the dim eating hall of the hostel, pushing rice around his bowl with a finger. A warm mug of wine brushed his hand, and his leather scale armor creaked as he shifted his weight and adjusted the chakram on his belt. He was a young man, fit and strong, and still had most of his teeth. His nose lay at an angle; victim of a youthful brawl, and his muscled arms bore the scars of battle wounds recently healed. 

The noise in the hall was tremendous, as local laborers ate and laughed and talked with the fervor of howling monkeys, while weary travelers, mercenaries, and merchants relaxed from their day on the dusty road.

It had been a hot, dry summer in Thang Long. Lei had spent the better part of the season looking for a lucrative contract with a wealthy merchant, but that endeavor had yielded no fruit. The money he’d made fighting in Burma had run out, and he was preparing to move on from this quiet little empire to bloodier – and riskier – regions. 

_”The question,”_ he thought as he absently stirred his food, _“is which is the better prospect - Champa or Xiao Lung?”_ The Chamdar king had long ago set his eyes on Dai Viet and Siam, so there was opportunity there for mercenary work. On the other hand, the Mongol overlords of Xiao Lung always had a need to maintain order in some far corner of their vast empire; work there was guaranteed. Lei was loathe to work for Mongols, but they did pay well.

As he sat and mulled over his prospects, a pair of men entered the hostel and scanned the room. One was tall and aristocratic of bearing, with red robes of state trimmed in gold. His eyes were sharp and heavy-lidded, his face gaunt, and his beard thin and wispy under a nobleman’s round, flat-topped hat. A mandarin. To his left and slightly behind, a shorter but thicker man flicked his gaze around the eating hall, never resting his eyes on anyone for too long. His muscles bulged against a remarkable suit of iridescent banded mail, and across his back lay strapped a massive two-handed scimitar, gilt in gold, with an ivory-and-gold handle carved to resemble a noble T’ien Lung dragon in flight. The dragon’s head was the sword’s pommel, and its eyes were inlaid with emeralds. 

Lei always sat with his back to a wall, a habit he picked up while campaigning. Thus, he noticed the entrance and bearing of the two men. As he watched them survey the room, the mandarin looked in his direction, paused, and began to stride through the busy restaurant toward Lei. Peasants and merchants bowed quickly and hustled out of his way.   

“You are Long Lei, of the Giang province of Xiao Lung?” asked the mandarin.

“Uh, yes.” Lei half stood up from the bench and bowed cautiously. “What can I do for you, your honor?”

The official sat down at the table, arranged his robes, and spoke. “Your reputation as a fighter distinguishes you from the caravan-guard rabble that the merchants here choose to employ. I am Yao Ren Phai. I wish to hire you to bodyguard an employee I value. There is travelling involved. I will pay you 200 taels now to put you on retainer, and an additional 120 taels per fortnight until further notice.” The mandarin – who in announcing himself as “yao ren” indicated that he was a sorcerer as well as a government official – looked at Lei and waited.

“Ah…um, that sounds good,” ventured Lei, taken aback.  “What is this employee’s name? And where will I be travelling?”

“He is Nguyen Qai Tran. He is staying at an inn not far from the east gates. You will travel where I require you to travel. Are the terms acceptable to you?” The yao ren squinted at Lei and absently stroked his whiskers. The bodyguard scowled and looked around.

“Yes, um, yes. Thank you, master Phai. I will seek out master Tran at once.” Lei stood and bowed again, confused. This was not how he normally did business, but the pay sounded terrific! 

“Then it is done. Report to Nguyen Qai Tran at the Singing Serpent hostel. He will direct you further regarding your duties.” And with that brisk dismissal, the mandarin stood and walked away. Once again, the crowd parted to let him pass. The bodyguard, who had not been introduced, paused to scowl again and toss a pouch at Lei. It clinked when it hit the table. 

Lei sat and stared at the pouch for a while. A smile crept across his face, and he reached for it.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*


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## ForceUser (Jul 15, 2002)

*Session One, Part 2*

*LEI FLICKED* his gaze from Nguyen Qai Tran to the belligerent man stepping in front of him. 

"I am Phoenix-Rides-The-Mountain, and I am this man's bodyguard!" said the loudmouthed mercenary. He stood tall for a Viet man, towering over Lei by several inches. He was nearly as wide as he was tall, with a large belly hanging over tight leather pants. Gripped in one meaty palm was a maul. The man stunk of cheap wine and fish sauce. 

"Oh...er...terribly sorry..," said Nguyen Qai Tran from somewhere behind the gigantic warrior, "I thought you were someone else, you see..."

"I will protect you, master!" bellowed the mercenary as he shoved the noble completely behind him. "You!" He poked a dirty finger at Lei. "Leave!"  

Lei got a word in. "I am Long Lei, and I am this man's bodyguard, not you. Stand down." His hand hovered over the hilt of his scimitar.

"Yes..yes, that's quite correct...my apologies, I seem to have caused some confusion..." Nguyen began.

"Rarrggh!" screamed the smelly mercenary as he swung his maul. Lei danced back, and the weapon swooshed in front of him at chest level, demolishing a table to Lei's right. Out whipped his scimitar, flashing as he stepped up and delivered a stinging rebuke with the flat of his blade on the side of the warrior's head. The man fell to his knees with a heavy thud, dazed. Lei kicked the maul away from him. 

"Go. Before I get angry." he said. "Ughhh..." replied his victim as he crawled on the floor. Finally, the man got up, red-faced and swaying on his feet. "I...I will remember this..." He scooped up his weapon and swaggered out of the Singing Serpent, humiliated.

"Master," said Lei to the confused noble, "are you injured?"

"No...no, I'm fine. I was sitting here waiting for you, and I suppose I mentioned I was looking for a bodyguard. That man decided to be...helpful. I'm dreadfully sorry for the misunderstanding." Lei examined the nobleman as they sat down at his table. Nguyen Qai Tran was young, younger than Lei. His hands were strong, but unlined, and his clothes were well-made, but modest. He was clean-shaven, with a broad flat face and dark eyes, and he was short. 

"Thank you for coming," began the aristocrat. "I am Nguyen Qai Tran, and you, of course, are Long Lei." He looked at Lei hesitantly, and when Lei nodded, he relaxed, obviously relieved. "I'm newly arrived in Thang Long from my father's estate, and Yao Ren Phai has given me this initial assignment. I was to work at the Imperial Palace as a scribe and junior administator, but he has assured me I have more important duties. The first of these duties is to collect a group of individuals from the countryside who will be working for the Emperor as... troubleshooters. They...we...will be under Yao Ren Phai's direction in this matter. You are to protect me while we travel, for I am told that the roads are very dangerous this year. Do you have a horse?"

"No, master." said Lei. It was true; horses were expensive. 

"You should have been paid by now; perhaps you can purchase a horse this afternoon? I would like to depart tomorrow. And you don't have to call me master, I've little rank. You can call me Tran."

"I will buy a horse, master." said Lei as he stood. Tran still ranked far above Lei.

Tran sighed. "Right. Shall we meet here tomorrow at dawn?"

"Of course, master. I will collect my things and buy a horse today, and I will buy a room here tonight. I will see you in the morning." Lei bowed, and stood up to leave. 

"I will show you my sword tomorrow! It's grand!" remarked Tran in an attempt at camraderie. 

"I look forward to seeing it, master." Lei lied. He bowed again and departed.


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## ForceUser (Jul 16, 2002)

*Session One, Part 3*

*OUT FROM* Thang Long they journeyed with the sun warming their backs. The road was bustling with farmers and merchants heading to market and horse soldiers patrolling the lanes around the city. Morning light sparkled off the otherwise murky waters of the wide Red River to their right, and the boats of fishermen and vacationing _shihs_ drifted east down the river and towards the distant sea.

It took them six days to reach the first destination. They rode upriver toward the highlands, passing many small villages and military outposts. Eventually, they turned south toward a mountain region called Du Phen, where Tran, following a map, led them up a tiny trail into a highland jungle. The region was robust and green, with extensive tree coverage and thousands of species of birds, animals, and plants. After half a day of riding up the trail, it became so overgrown and difficult to follow that they dismounted and led the horses on foot. Finally, as the sun began to fade in the sky and the jungle loomed gloomily around them, Tran spotted a spire rising above the canopy, silhouetted against the setting sun. 

“That’s it!” Tran exclaimed. “Han Bai monastery. We’re almost there.”

Lei grunted in acknowledgment. It was better that way, he’d decided. The young aristocrat’s enthusiasm was grating. It was almost as grating as helping him put on the exquisite suit of chain mail he could barely wear without falling off his horse, or retrieving his masterwork _kiem_ when he tossed it in the trees during practice. 

“Han Bai monastery,” rattled Tran, “is the seat in Dai Viet of what is called White Crane kung fu. The major characteristics of the style include wide-armed, wing-like movements, high kicking, and the crane's beak, a hand weapon made by joining the fingertips firmly. It’s an impressive art, though considered impractical by some. There is but one grandmaster of this style in the country: Tran Minh Long. He’s a great hero because he helped the Emperor seize the throne and restore order after the fall of the Ly dynasty. That’s why the Emperor made him a part of the imperial family. But it’s said he prefers to stay here and teach his students.”

“Mm.” Lei replied. He studied the monastery as they approached, squinting in the failing light. High, thick walls. Two sets of massive, iron-bound doors guarding the entrance. Armed guards on the walls…armed guards?

“This place is a fortress, master. I didn’t know monks donned armor and wielded the _kama-do_.” Lei pointed at a soldier on the wall. 

“Oh, they don’t. That man is a _no-sheng_ – a temple guardian. They are a separate order within the monastery. While the monks spend their time in study, contemplation, and meditation, the no-sheng guard the sanctuary and protect it from the outside. They’re a more martial group, as I understand it, and the ones who do most of the fighting when it’s needed. Yes, this place is a fortress. It has to be to protect the solitude of the Han Bai students. These hills are infested with tribes of giants and orcs.”

“Er..” said Lei. Giants?

As they approached the monastery, a monk stepped out of a small door framed by the larger wooden door. He was short and bald, and wore a loose-fitting white garment. His arms and what could be seen of his chest were covered in tattoos. He walked up to them and bowed low. “Greetings, travelers. Welcome to Han Bai. How can I help you?”


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## Piratecat (Jul 16, 2002)

What a freakin' cool idea.  I'm so impressed!  I don't thyink I'd ever attempt anything quite this ambitious. Did you have trouble finding players to buy into the concept - and are you using straight Oriental Adventures?


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 16, 2002)

High praise, considering the source! That means a lot to me. My buddies just tune me out when I go on about how awesome your story hour is 

Yes, straight out of OA with one notable exception - Rokugen. I have excised all material even remotely Japanese, though I will likely change the names of some of the Rokugen-specific monsters and PrCs and use them anyway. 

As for my players...they are an awesome bunch and are always willing to at least _try_ my wild campaign ideas. I've had a few that were better in concept than execution   And living in San Diego among hundreds of thousands of Americans from the Pacific Rim has definitely had an influence on me, not to mention my visits to places such as Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, and Japan when I was in the military. We of European heritage are staggeringly ignorant of Asian culture, so putting together this campaign was not only a challenge I set for myself, but is a widening of our cultural horizons, every session. It's a lot of fun though


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 16, 2002)

*Session One, Part 4*

*HAN WOO* was nervous. Why are these strangers here? Why did Sitaigung Long mention his name while reading the strangers’ letter? 

_The water is calm._ 

Woo inhaled, then exhaled slowly, a simple breathing exercise. He stared at his food. The dining hall clacked silently as fifty monks ate rice and sweet potatoes with chopsticks. No one spoke; no speaking was required. The dinner table was not a place for conversation.

Woo glanced at the door where Vinh stood sentry duty. The no-sheng stood rigid, his kama-do by his side. The polearm thrust over the young man’s plumed helm by a good two feet. His appearance was impeccable, but his face betrayed the barest hint of a worried frown, belying his unease. Sitaigung, sitting at the head of the long bench, would read something in the letter, then glance at Vinh. Then read. Then glance at Woo. But why!

_Ripples still the surface._

The strangers were seated at the head of the table, at Sitaigung’s right hand, where honored guests sat. The nobleman clearly wanted to speak yet restrained himself. He kept looking around the sparse hall and trying to make eye contact with the monks. The Xiao fighter with him kept to himself. Woo appreciated that.

Sitaigung rose, and the monks paused in their consumption. He spoke. “Woo. Vinh. Walk with me tonight in the garden.” He was an elderly man, whose face reminded Woo of a shar-pei. He stood hunched over as the old often do, and walked with a cane. His earlobes drooped, and his tattoos were old and faded. He was a splendid man; a teacher whose words enlightened now as much as his deeds once did. 

Woo gulped back bile, rose, and bowed with Vinh. “Yes, Sitaigung.”

The noble appeared bored.  

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Tran Minh Long was a living legend. After the last Ly emperor died without a legitimate heir, the country erupted into chaos. Nobles vied for the imperial scepter, seeking leverage with which to gain the throne. Many were not above eliminating their rivals on their march to Thang Long, and a bloody civil war ensued. One family, the Tran, possessed the truest claim to the throne because of a marriage between the Ly emperor’s cousin and Tran Che Doan, the family’s head of household. But Doan had made many enemies over the years, and was unpopular with the nobility. Thus, they did not back his claim. This was a perilous time for Dai Viet, because the Mongols and the Cham both prowled outside the gates, waiting until civil war had made the state too weak to resist invasion. 

By this time, Tran Minh Long, known then as Han Minh Long, was already a grandmaster of White Crane kung fu and a beloved national hero. He had mediated peace between the Khmer hill tribes and the Ly state, and had helped drive away the evil dragon Shieng-Ke. He had gained a following of students and a bevy of sway with the shih caste. And Tran Che Doan was his friend.  

Sitaigung Long knew well the danger of a civil war to the continuance of an independent Viet state. Therefore he traveled the country as an ambassador from the Tran family, and began to convert the nobility to his cause. In this effort he was largely successful, but the most powerful rival family – the Dinh – spurned his peace offering and tried to assassinate him. In this they failed, and made a sworn enemy of Tran Che Doan. He marched and met the Dinh on the field of battle, and there he lost his life. Saddened but desperate, Long knew that a Dinh dynasty would not have the wisdom to repel foreign invasions, and so he convinced Doan’s younger brother Dang to seize the throne. 

One year later, after many bloody and tragic engagements, the Dinh family was slaughtered to the last child, and the calendar reset itself anew, signifying the ascension of Tran Van Dang and the beginning of the first Tran dynasty. In gratitude, Emperor Tran awarded Sitaigung Long status in the imperial family, and offered him wealth and estates throughout the empire. Long thanked the Emperor, politely refused the gifts, returned to Han Bai, and faded into legend.

And now he advised Woo and Vinh. 

“The nobleman is a representative of the state; he has come seeking the two of you,” said Sitaigung as he shuffled along the path. The night air was warm in the garden, and the full moon shone bright, reflecting off the garden pool. Water gently lapped the pool’s edges. Candlelight from the walls here and there told of monks turning in for the evening, and the booted feet of no-sheng thumped from the ramparts, leather on wood. Somewhere off in the jungle, a night bird screeched. 

“Why us, Sitaigung?” spoke Vinh with characteristic softness. 

“It is in the letter. The letter asks for you by name. The sorcerers are asking, but they come with the Emperor’s seal.” The old man paused to pick over a _kaprao_ plant from Siam.

Woo spoke. “What should we do, Sitaigung?” He already knew what he wanted to do.

“What do you wish to do?” replied the grandmaster.

“I want to go,” said Vinh immediately. “If the Emperor is calling me to service, I should go.” The old man nodded.

Woo vacillated. “Is he demanding or asking? There’s a difference. I have duties here. Responsibilities.” That might work, he thought.

“Your duties are what you impose upon yourself, your responsibilities can be deferred. A request from an emperor is as a command from anyone else. But if you choose to stay, I will support your decision. If that is where your ch’i leads.” Apparently satisifed with the plant, Sitaigung Long continued on. 

Vinh stared at Woo *hard*.

Woo glared back. “I will go, Sitaigung.”

Vinh grinned. 

The grandmaster nodded again, then stopped and turned to face the two young men. Vinh was tall and fair, with a lithe grace about him, even in armor. Woo was shorter and vaguely uncomfortable at all times. Some said this was because of his mixed Xiao-Viet heritage. Sitaigung wrapped both young men in his arms. “I am very proud of you both. You are as sons to me.”

Woo and Vinh stood stunned. Emotions played across their faces. Sitaigung patted their shoulders and released them. He continued his elderly shuffle across the garden grounds. “The Buddhists say that all the world is an illusion. Go and decide for yourselves. Find your _tao_.”


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## ForceUser (Jul 16, 2002)

*Session One, Part 5*

*THE VILLAGE* of Son La lay nestled against the bank of a mountain stream. Three communal lodges formed a semicircle facing the water, and close behind the tiny community the jungle sprawled like a dozing predator. Chickens, ducks, and pigs pecked and rooted in the mud between the buildings, and several children dashed around the structures playing tag. Women sat on porches, weaving baskets and mending clothing, and a few men waded through the gurgling rush with nets.

“Tam? I have not seen Tam in weeks,” drawled the fisherman. “He lives with crazy Anh in a hut in the jungle, about a quarter day’s walk from here.” The man pointed to indicate the direction and smiled, showing black gums and teeth stained by a lifetime of eating betelnuts. 

“Crazy Anh?” replied Tran, suddenly worried.

“Yes. Her _ch’ishu_ is strong, but she frightens the children. Actually,” he admitted, “she frightens me as well. She is fierce as a wounded beaver! But she has never harmed us, and Tam brings us love potions and health draughts that she makes, from time to time. We trade them for furs, fish, and other things.”

“Um,” said Tran as he considered.

The four of them – Tran, Lei, Vinh, and Woo – had arrived in Son La less than an hour ago, following a small road through the foliage. It was not yet midday. “Let’s keep going,” said Woo. Lei nodded, Vinh watched the fishermen at their craft. Tran sighed. “I was hoping for a bit of rest. My feet are sore.”

Woo waited.

“Oh, all right! Let’s go!” Tran thanked the fisherman tersely and went to get his horse.

+++++++++++++

*“GET….OUT!”* Anh screamed. Tam ducked as she threw an earthen jar at him and hustled out of the hut. He coughed as his eyes watered; smoke from his “experiment” billowed out of the window and door of the one-room shanty. Outside, he bent, stretched, and took deep breaths. The smell was awful, like rotten eggs and cloying honey. Inside, Anh raged. He listened and cringed as she swept vials and beakers from his workbench to the dirt floor. 

_Perhaps I should go get some fresh water,_ he rationalized. As he turned to sneak away from the wrath of the roaring she-demon that was his mentor in the art of ch’ishu, he spied the visitors. There were four of them with horses, and they stood and stared at the scene behind Tam. One looked bored, one restless, one solemn, and one confused.

“Er…” said the confused-looking one. He wore nice clothes and was shorter than the rest. He held a letter, but seemed unsure what to do with it.

“Hello!” Tam greeted him cheerfully. Behind him, Anh began to spew colorful profanities from inside the hut. The smoke had lessened somewhat, but he still heard the sound of things breaking from within. He smiled wider.

“Welcome! We don’t get many visitors!” Tam liked being friendly. The stranger was looking over his shoulder, wide-eyed.

“Er, you don’t say. Well, we’re looking for a fellow named Bui-Gia Duc Tam. I’m sure you haven’t seen him.” He turned to go.

“But we have! We are Tam!” Tam smiled again, and bowed.

“Pardon?” 

“You have found us. We are Tam. To what do we owe this visit?”

“Um.” The aristocrat looked at the others for help. One of the warriors shrugged.

*”DUC TAM!!!”* Anh charged out of the house like a bull. She was short, even for a woman, and filthy. Her hair was a greasy, stringy mess, her face and body grimy, her clothes ragged and stained, and her feet black from a lifetime of walking barefoot. *”WHO ARE THESE…THESE…MEN?!”* She pointed viscously, punctuating her words. 

“Right…” said Tran.

“These are our friends. They have come to visit us.” Tam smiled at Tran again. 

Anh gurgled in inarticulate rage and spun around. She stopped, looked north, then pivoted her body east and plopped down in the mud cross-legged. 

While the newcomers puzzled over Anh’s behavior, Tam snatched the letter out of Tran’s hand and read. 

Hmm. Interesting. “Thi Anh, the Emperor requires our service. May we go?”

*”LIES!”* she screeched from her spot in the mud. She crossed her arms. 

“I, ah, I assure you…madam…it is true.” Tran ventured.

*”LIES! SHOW ME!”* Her hand whipped out over her head. Tam walked over and handed her the letter. She read.

“Hmm…yes…yes!” she squealed. “My ancestors have answered my prayers. Take your things and leave, Tam! Don’t come back! *DO NOT COME BACK!*” She shook her fists and bounced with fury. Mud squelched between her thighs.

“Thank you, Thi Anh! We will visit often!” Tam offered a warm smile to her back.

*”NO!”* she roared.

Tam walked into the hut, collected his things into an old sack, reverently placed his spell scrolls into a sturdy case, and rejoined his new friends outside. Anh still sat in the mud. 

“We, Bui-Gia Duc Tam, are ready to serve!” he announced, and began to walk down the path to the stream. 

Vinh and Lei looked at each other. Tran stuttered. Woo groaned.


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 18, 2002)

*Session One, Part 6*

*ANDOU HUE HIEN* squinted in the waning light of dusk. He was a small, wiry man, barely grown from boyhood, with a mop of black hair and a ruddy, earth-toned complexion. He wore rough homespun cloth and animal skins with bits of colored rock, beads, and feathers sewn in. He sat at a makeshift table plucking a pheasant, and behind him leaned a jumble of bamboo huts, twenty in all. Under the table, a small brown fox dozed, and perched on his shoulder, a magnificent red eagle hunkered over, eyeing the carcass of the dead game bird. 

The eagle cocked its head toward the distant jungle and cried out.

Hien looked up. “Hiraki, what is it?” The bird flapped its wings and cried again. Something was out there.

Hien stood, and the fox yawned, stretched, and also got up. He looked around. There were few people working at this end of the village this late in the day. He could no longer hear the merry gurgle of the bamboo spirits that inhabited the community; they had already returned to wherever bamboo spirits go when night falls.  

Grabbing his staff, the young shaman stepped forward and discerned movement across the meadow, just below the line of trees where the jungle began. People were coming down, and they were leading horses! Behind him, villagers began to light cooking fires.

One of the newcomers, still distant, waved at Hien. Bemused, he waved back and walked out further. The fox growled and hid behind Hien’s legs. “Hush, you.” He admonished.

Halfway across the sloping meadow, Hien met the strangers.

“Hello!” gasped one, a man about Hien’s age. He led a magnificent stallion, and wore a masterful suit of chain-linked armor. A sword of similar quality hugged his hip. The man looked thoroughly miserable. So did the four other men with him, and the five horses. One of them, Hien noted, was a monk. They were all armed.  

“Welcome to the village of Hoa Binh. Did you actually hack your way here through the jungle, or were you lost?” he asked.

The monk exchanged dark looks with a tall warrior who carried some sort of polearm slung over his shoulder. “We were led to believe this was a shortcut from Son La.” The monk shot an annoyed glance at a balding middle-aged companion with wild iron-gray hair. The older man smiled and nodded, apparently oblivious to the tone of the monk. 

Hien laughed. “I’ve never heard of Son La. It must be far. Please, you look tired. Come eat with us, and I’ll see about getting you water with which to bathe. My name is Hue Hien.”

“Er…Andou Hue Hien?” spoke the wealthy one. 

Surprised, Hien replied, “Yes! How do you know me? I don’t think we’ve ever met!”

Five men heaved a sigh of relief as one. Well, four. One of them stood there like an idiot and grinned. ‘We are pleased to make your acquaintance!” the older man said, gesturing at himself and bowing. 

The monk groaned. 

*++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++*


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 19, 2002)

*Some definitions*

_no-sheng_ - a Chinese sohei
_wu jen_ - a wizard
_yao ren_ - a sorcerer

_kama-do_ - a Chinese polearm similar to the naginata
_do_ - a Chinese longsword
_chakram_ - a razored, disk-shaped throwing weapon popularized in _Xena: Warrior Princess_
_kiem_ - a Vietnamese sword based on the jiann, but slightly larger
_jiann_ - a Chinese short sword used by martial artists; also called a _tai chi sword_

_kaung-shi_ - a zombie

_ch'i_ - mystical energy harnessed by monks; in Japanese, _ki_
_ch'ishu_- magic

_Tao_ - pronounced "dow." Literally, "The Way." A force that flows through every living and sentient object, as well as through the entire universe. When the Tao is in balance it is possible to find perfect happiness. Taoism encourages working with natural forces, not against them. Taoism teaches the path of wu-wei - the technique of mastering circumstances, not trying to control them. More a listening technique than an actual theology, Taoism asks that each person focuses on the world around them in order to understand the inner harmonies of the universe. It is a religious system heavily focused on meditation and contemplation. The Tao surrounds everyone and one must listen to find enlightenment.

_Sitaigung_ - in Cantonese, a grandmaster martial artist

_kaprao_ - a Siamese herbal plant
_shih_ - a wealthy nobleman or member of the noble caste
_ao dai_ - traditional Vietnamese dress, usually a long skirt over trousers.
_leaf hat_ - wide-brimmed, conical hat traditionally worn by young Vietnamese girls. 

_tael_ - one silver coin; equivalent to a D&D gold piece
_bao_ - one bronze coin; equivalent to a D&D silver piece

Hope that helps! I'll add to the list as needed as the campaign progresses!


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## Vymair (Jul 19, 2002)

*Han Vinh Background*

He was born Tran Qui Vinh, the third son in his line.  Vinh was born in the final year of the prior emperor?s reign in the Year of the Boar (more commonly referred to as the year of the Pig, but Vinh insists on Boar).  As was family custom, he was turned over to the Han Monastery at the age of 7.  For long ago, the clan leader of the Tran was visited by the Sage Han, a follower of the Tao.   Through his insight and through meditation, the Sage Han was able to reconcile the displeasure of the Tran ancestors which had lasted 4 generations.   Why the ancestors were displeased has been lost to history, but the Tran have never forgotten that the Han were instrumental in reconciling the family to their ancestors. 

As the sage was able to interpret what the ancestors wanted the Tran clan to do in order to restore its reputation and honor, the Tran clan committed themselves to offering the third son of all first sons to the monastery. As was custom for the monastery, Vinh took his surname from the monastery and dropped his middle name, thus he is Han Vinh.  For generations, these former Trans were committed followed lives of ascetism and insight.  However, when young Vinh arrived, the monks where shocked to find that he was infused with the spirits of his warrior ancestors.  

After months of meditation, the monks decided that his ancestors must have a purpose in providing young Vinh with such instincts and that they would not prevent Vinh from finding his Tao through the way of the warrior.  For such gifts of the ancestors come with a purpose, even if we can not divine them.  Therefore, he was trained in the ways of the No-sheng.


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## ForceUser (Jul 19, 2002)

*Session One, Part 7*

*THREE FORTNIGHTS* after Tran and Lei left Thang Long, they returned with their charges. Tam had traveled extensively in his youth and had been to the capitol before, but the sprawl of buildings and throngs of people bustling through the narrow streets awed newcomers Woo, Vinh, and Hien. The city was built like a wagon wheel; the streets were the spokes, with the various districts arranged in-between, and in the center of the wheel the majestic towers of the Imperial Palace beckoned. The Palace was colossal; a city in its own right, and it towered over all other structures in the capitol. Large stone statues of warriors and armies adorned its red-bricked pagodas, and quartered atop the central spire, four magical beasts faced the four cardinal directions: a dragon to the north, a tortoise to the east, a unicorn to the south, and a phoenix to the west. All were made of bronze and gilded in gold, and one or two could always be seen from practically anywhere in the city. At the pinnacle of the central spire, a large multifaceted gemstone sparkled, refracting the sun’s light and sending streaks of rainbow colors across a few of Thang Long’s districts. 

Tran pointed at the gem. “That’s the Eye of August Heaven. It’s to remind us of our common heritage. The first Ly emperor had it placed there as a symbol of our freedom from Xiao rule. In all the years since, the gem has never been stolen or vandalized, not even when the Cham conquered the city a decade ago. It is said that the Eye is warded with powerful magic.” Tran turned his horse down a side street and the others followed. 

He led them to a nameless little inn where they stabled their horses and rented rooms. Hien blessed the hostel at the innkeeper’s request, and noted that the hearth spirit there seemed content, if that’s what the little gurgling and cooing noises meant. He could hear spirits when they chose to reveal themselves to him, but he had yet to find the Sight that allowed him to gaze across the planar boundary to the Spirit World. He felt he was close to unlocking that secret, however. Tran announced that he would head to the Market District to contact Yao Ren Phai’s moneylender there, ostensibly to notify the sorcerer of their return, but also to draw silver to pay the Emperor’s newest retainers. Lei accompanied him. The others relaxed in the mid-afternoon heat and settled into their rooms. 

Tran and Lei returned shortly before dusk and stunned the others by handing them each a pouch containing several hundred silver taels. He then informed them that he and Lei had one last person to pick up, and that she lived here in Thang Long. They would rendezvous with her at midnight in the Docks District. That raised some eyebrows.

“The docks are a dangerous place at night, Tran,” Tam drawled. “We should all go.”

“Unfortunately, the agreement explicitly calls for only me and Lei here to go to the meeting. We need this person, according to Yao Ren Phai, so I’m going to have to follow instructions.”  Tran sighed. 

“Sounds suspicious,” said Woo. Vinh nodded.  

“Don’t worry master, I’ll be watchful,” assured Lei. “Let’s get some rest before we leave.” 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Le Thi Mai adjusted the front of her dress, smoothing it down across her stomach. She was a slim young woman with large almond eyes and a short, athletic figure. She wore a dazzling red ao dai with green trim, and her hair perched atop her head in a seductive tumble, artfully arranged. She walked up a winding path between lush tropical plants, looking ahead at the illuminated estate of Binh Ny Phoung, the wealthy spice merchant who had neglected to pay for protection this month. As she closed on the gates, being careful to keep her stride measured like a lady, she once again reviewed her plan. Two guards stood at the gate. As she approached, one nudged the other and they laughed bawdily. Despite the fact that she could see the cretins mentally undressing her, Mai smiled demurely as she approached, and bowed low.

“So he’s got another one, has he? Master Binh is a virile man!” said one guard.

“You’re the sixth this week!” said the other. “Maybe master Binh should cut down on the shark fin soup! It’s turning him into an animal!” Both guards laughed uproariously.

Calling upon all her discipline, training, and resolve, Mai didn’t draw the dagger strapped to the inside of her thigh and puncture the bastard’s kidney. Instead, she smiled sweetly and said, “Let me in. The sooner your master is finished with me, the sooner I can come back to visit you.” To accentuate the unspoken promise, she put a hand on her hip and leaned forward a little. There wasn’t much there, but it was enough to manipulate this cretin. Face flushed, he grinned and fumbled with the latch on the gate before pushing it open and standing back. She patted his cheek as she walked in, and could feel their gazes follow her all the way up the path to the manor. When the old housekeeper let her in the house, she knocked him out and stuffed him in a closet. 

Ten minutes later, she was over the back wall and gone. 

Binh Ny Phoung never even knew he’d had a visitor until several hours had passed. Frustrated after having rang for the damn servant too many times, he stormed through his sitting room looking for the lazy geezer, but was brought up short when he discovered that in place of his treasured Ming vase was a note. Perplexed, he waddled over, picked it up, and read: 

_“Payment accepted, with interest.”_

Outside, the two lecherous guards tore through the gates and up the path, rushing toward the manor and drawing their weapons. From inside, a piercing, feminine wail wafted out of the house, accompanied by the sounds of cursing and things breaking. 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Mai tossed the vase to her mentor. “Whoa, careful!” he laughed. Dang Van Bay was a stout, middle-aged man with dark skin, graying hair and a wide smile. He was friendly and warm, with merry eyes and a renowned soft spot for orphans. He was known about town as “The Laughing Thief,” and his head was worth ten thousand taels to the City Defense Force. He was worth ten times that to the _giang ju_ underworld. Bay had found Mai on the streets of Thang Long at the age of twelve, and had taken her knack for pilfering and turned it into a career.

He examined the vase as she stepped behind a partition and stripped out of the ridiculous dress. “Nice!” he exclaimed. “How much do you think it’s worth?”

“Mai pulled on the trousers of her most comfortable ao dai and said, “You old goat, you know exactly how much we can get for it!”

“Irrelevant.” He grinned. “When you present this to the Father, you’ll need to know for yourself.”

Mai finished dressing and stepped out, brushing her hair. “Me? I thought I was in now. This was the final test, right?”

“You have to present it yourself and stand for final consideration. If the vase is worth at least 500 taels, you’ve covered your entry fee.” Bay continued as Mai groaned, “Hey, you’ve come this far! You’re practically family now. Just one more thing you need to do.” He held the vase out to her. 

She took it and sighed. Bay grabbed her leaf hat and plopped it on her head. “Come on, oh seductress. He said to bring you by tonight.”

Mai stuck her tongue out at him.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

The Father of the local giang ju family was an expansive, corpulent man, adored with jeweled rings, earrings, and fine silk clothing. He sat on a plush raised divan strewn with pillows and held a pair of silver leashes in his left hand. On the other end of the leashes sat a beautiful young woman and a handsome young man. Concubines. The Father, she had been told, was not choosy about his lovers. 

He gestured vaguely at Mai with his right hand, apparently an indication to approach the divan. Dangerous-looking men and women stood back to let her pass. There were about twenty rogues in attendance, all more experienced than Mai. She knew some of them personally, others only by reputation. Vit the arsonist. Hin Cho, the enforcer. Tien Thi Ang, the woman called the Black Mantis. Thi Ang smiled at her, but it was a feral gesture with no warmth in it. Mai shuddered.

“Tell us, tell us what you have done.” The Father gestured again. Mai recounted the events leading up to her theft of the vase, including her initial plans and how she executed them. She stuttered a bit, but finished gamely. Bay stood off to her side, but his expression was oddly noncommittal.  “I see, I see.” Said the fat man. “And how much is the vase worth?”

Mai had calculated that on her way over. Confidently, she said “800 taels, at least.” Someone snickered behind her, and a few rogues laughed. The female concubine smiled vapidly at her. The Father raised his hand again and the noises subdued. He looked at Mai slyly and said, “This vase is not worth 800 taels. It is worth, at most, 200. It is garbage. An imitation. You have failed.” 

Mai looked at Bay desperately. He returned her gaze but didn’t offer any support. The obese guild leader continued. “Though you have no eye for value, we appreciate your other talents. If you still wish to join the giang ju, I have another task for you. Please me, and you will yet join the family.” 

Mai looked at Bay again. Nothing. She turned back to the pig on the divan. “Alright, I’ll do it.” More snickers behind her. “Good, good.” The Father leaned back onto a pillow. “We have relationships in this city, many relationships. Our business is built on checks and balances, yes it is. We have arrangements with certain Imperial officials, and one such calls for an…exchange of services. We loan them someone with a certain kind of expertise, and they…do things for us. So we will give you this opportunity to impress us with your talents. You will be our ear into the doings of certain government officials, yes. Impress, and you will go far.” With that, Mai was dismissed.

In the hall outside the giang ju lair, Mai fumed at Bay. “Why didn’t you back me up?!”

Bay laughed, which made her even madder. “Relax, princess, you’re in. You made it. Welcome to the family!” He punched her shoulder.

Mai stopped walking, completely baffled. “But he said…”

“Forget what he said, kid. You did great and everyone in there knew it. You were wrong about one thing, though, that vase wasn’t worth 800 taels. More like 1000.” Bay chuckled at her outraged expression.

“But why…?!” she began. 

“To amuse themselves. They do that to all the new recruits. He wanted to see how far he could push you, to see if you’d break under the scrutiny. And you didn’t.” Bay began walking again. 

Mai spoke rapidly. “So then I don’t really have to do this government thing?”

Bay looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hm. No, you still have to do that. It was a good call; you’re skilled but unknown. That makes you a great choice for this job.” Bay grinned at her again. “But let me give you some advice from an old thief. You knew the vase was worth about 800 taels, right?”

“Right.”

“So you should have talked it up and sold it for 1000, kept 500, and given the rest to Father as your entry dues. You have to learn to think like a rat. Never forget you’re in this to make money.” He winked at her as they reached the end of the hall. A ladder led up to an “abandoned” warehouse in the Docks District. 

“Let’s go meet your new friends.”


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## Welverin (Jul 20, 2002)

Good job so far. Is this all from the first session so far?


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 20, 2002)

Yeah. It was an 8-hour session  

We're about halfway through; I spent a large amount of time introducing the characters (and the players to the setting) and getting them together. After this, the action goes fast!


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 20, 2002)

*Session One, Part 8*

*THE FOLLOWING* midday, the seven of them assembled on a dusty street corner in the Shih’s District. To their right stood a two-story, gabled inn called The Jade Unicorn. Even from the street the party could hear the low roar of conversation from the common room; people walked in and out constantly. That morning Tran had informed them that Yao Ren Phai had instructed him to bring his charges to this intersection at midday and await the sorcerer's arrival. “In the street?” Woo had asked. Apparently so. They stood to one side and ignored the curious glances of the wealthy.

Two hours later, Yao Ren Phai arrived.  Despite their annoyance at being forced to stand in the sun for hours, the group straightened visibly when Tran whispered “Here he comes!” The mandarin looked much the same as he had a month and a half before when Lei last met him: blue silk robes of state trimmed in silver, tall and aristocratic bearing, sharp and heavy-lidded eyes, gaunt face, thin and wispy beard under a shih’s round, flat-topped hat. With him came the unnamed Xiao bodyguard with the iridescent banded mail and the magnificent sword. As usual, the man scowled. Yao Ren Phai strode up through the dusty street and stopped before them, not saying a word. His eyes crawled from person to person as he took the measure of them. He spent no more time on one than another, and only made perfunctory eye contact with any of them. After a long minute of this, he spoke in a gravelly voice that reminded Vinh of steel scraping across stone. “I am Yao Ren Phai, mandarin in the Emperor’s service. You work for me now. Most of you will be paid a retainer of 100 taels each per fortnight until further notice. Follow me.” Off he went, walking decisively down the street behind the party. Nonplussed, they followed.

He led them down a short side street to a cul de sac at the end. They passed several old houses and estates, and watched as the sorcerer stopped before a large set of rusted iron gates. Above the gates crouched an image of a coiled dragon in relief. Bits of faded yellow paint still clung to it under the rust. Beyond the gates lay a tangle of weeds and overgrown bushes that obscured most of the lot. On the back of the grounds they could see the roof of a long, one-story building. “The Golden Dragon Inn,” the yao ren announced. “This has been imperial property for a decade. The Emperor has had no need of it, and his mandarins have found no suitable buyers.” He turned to face them. “You will make this property presentable. Fix the roof, scour away the rust, landscape the yard, and make any necessary repairs to the interior of the inn. You have fifteen days - a fortnight.” He glanced at his bodyguard. “Chung Lah will come by periodically to observe your progress.”  The bodyguard nodded and scowled at the group of them. The sorcerer turned back to the lot, produced a key, unlocked the gates, and departed without another word.  Chung Lah followed.

Tran squirmed in his masterwork armor and peered through the gates. “We’ll need to get started right away, I think.” Lei stepped up and pushed the right-most gate halfway open before it jammed on a rusted hinge. He tried to push it further or pull it back, but it stuck firmly. “It’s okay, that’s enough,” said Mai. “I’ll look around.” She slipped into the lot and paused a moment to take it in. Other than the sound of cicadas chirping, the place was still. The path through the property to the inn was clearly visible and not quite completely overgrown. She studied the shoulder-high dry grasses to her left and briefly considered using them for cover to get closer to the house unseen, but discarded that idea. This place had to be crawling with bugs, spiders, and snakes. Ew. Instead, she padded silently up the path. Behind her, Vinh shifted restlessly in his partial armor. 

“Perhaps the spirits can tell me if there is any danger,” offered Hien. He sent his eagle aloft and ducked as he entered the gate and followed Mai down the path. Most of the others stepped inside then, but Tran stayed just outside the gates. Hien walked haflway down the path, stopped, and listened. He couldn’t be entirely sure, but he heard nothing he could construe as spirit sounds. He looked back at the group and shook his head. In the bushes to his right, he spied a hare dart by. Inspired, Hien ordered his fox to stay on the path and stepped off into the overgrowth.  As he approached the rabbit’s hiding spot, he whispered soothing phrases and kept his body language non-threatening. When he saw the hare’s floppy ears sticking out from behind a tuft of weeds, he cast a spell. A placid splash of green energy fell away from him like water, and he spoke to the frightened creature.

“*Hello, don’t run! I am friend*,” said Hien. “*Is there danger in the man-cave?*”

“I do not seek the man-cave!” quivered the rabbit. “All man-caves are dangerous. I stay in hide-grass and eat sweet-leaf.” 

“*Have you seen enemies enter or leave the man-cave*?”

“No! No enemies.” The hare backed deeper into the brush, wriggling its tiny nose. 

Hien thanked the animal and straightened his legs. The others had advanced down the path and stood near his fox. Mai crouched next to the building and peered through locked gate. 

The Golden Dragon Inn had seen better times. The roof was in good repair, for the most part, but the wooden walls were weather-beaten and morose. The entire inn was actually a compound of buildings enclosed by an 8-foot stone wall. The front was about 120 feet wide and sported a gate near either end. The portal on the left appeared to be a family entrance, but the one closest to Hien was wider and seemed to open into what had been the establishment’s main courtyard. Running front to back in the center was a large multi-roofed building; it was flanked by servants’ quarters on the right wall of the main courtyard and some unidentified rooms on the left wall of the family yard. Opposite the main gate, an empty stable sat flush to the back wall.

Mai spent a minute or so examining the main entrance, then walked to the family gate and investigated the lock. The others approached. “Is it locked?” Tran asked. “Yao Ren Phai didn’t give us a key.” 

“We don’t need a key,” Mai replied. Lei raised an eyebrow at that, and Hien wondered how she was going to open the lock. 

_Ca-clack. _ Mai pushed the rusted gate slightly open and stood back. She smiled at the men. “Go ahead.”  

Woo grunted and entered the yard, followed by Lei, Vinh, Hien and Mai. Tam and Tran waited outside.  The family yard of the inn was about 60 feet long and 30 feet wide. Rocks lay strewn about in what were probably artful patterns at some point, but time had rendered their messages meaningless. Four small dogwood trees dotted the grounds, their boughs casting shadows over moldy leaves and rustling ferns. In what was roughly the center of the yard, a small koi pond sat dark and dormant, and a thick, viscous layer of scummy water could be seen underneath several large lily pads. On the left of the yard were two sliding rice-paper doors. The second one appeared to be to a shrine. On the right, three more sliding doors waited. At the far end of the yard sat a storehouse, and piled in front of its large hinged doors were dozens of barrels. Hmm.

Woo, Vinh, and Hien spread out slowly through the yard, while Mai investigated the first door on the left. Lei stood near her, ready with shield and scimitar. Tam and Tran moved into the yard; the wu jen took up a position near the gate, and the young aristocrat shadowed Lei. There’s nothing to unlock on a rice-paper door, so Mai carefully slid it aside and stuck her head in. This had been a living room at one time, but what little furniture was left had been smashed into kindling and shoved into the corners. The only intact piece of furniture was a long, low table turned over on its side. Seeing no obvious threats, Mai entered and searched the small chamber. Left of the entry was a closet door, and once she had finished scanning the broken furniture in the corners, she opened the closet door and looked inside. Dim sunlight, filtered by the dogwoods, streamed into the closet, causing something round and metallic to glint on the floor. Mai squatted and examined the object. 

It was a bronze statuette. She picked it up to examine it, and was surprised to discover that it was extremely heavy, far more than she thought bronze would have been. Gripping it in both hands, she shivered at the character depicted: a powerfully built naked male with the head of a ferocious shark. In one hand he grasped a spear, and in the other he held aloft some sort of orb. The eyes were indented flecks of obsidian and gave the figure the dead, carnivorous expression of a killer of the deep. She turned the figure over in her hands a few times, and then placed it in her backpack. She could examine it later. 

Stepping out, she noted that the men all stood in the courtyard. Tam the wu jen was poking his staff into the koi pond, and Vinh and Woo were examining the barrels. Mai walked to the next door on the left – the shrine – and listened. 

_Bzzt…bzzzzat…bzt_ she heard from within the shrine. “Lei,” she called, “I hear something in here.” Lei stepped up, followed by Tran, and Mai slid the door aside. The shrine was a small room about 12 feet wide and 15 feet long. At the far end sat an altar, and atop the altar nested two hideously freakish things that looked like a cross between a bat and a giant mosquito. The instant Mai opened the door, they launched themselves at her angrily, latching on with their tiny pincer legs and driving their proboscises under her leather armor and into her body. As Mai screamed and flailed backward out of the shrine, they beat their quadruple wings and *SUCKED*. Mai staggered as the blood rushed out of her body, filling the purulent sacs under their abdomens. 

Lei rushed forward in alarm, but Woo was faster. In a flurry of movement too quick for the eye to follow, he dashed across the yard and crushed both of the creatures with his staff! The engorged beasts burst open as they died, and Mai’s stolen blood sprayed into the air and pooled in the dirt where the bodies buzzed and kicked futilely. 

Black spots danced in front of Mai’s vision, and she stumbled, fainted, and collapsed to the ground.

_(DM note: This was an awesome little fight! First dungeon encounter of the campaign and I drain 7 points of Con out of the rogue in one round! Slurrppp! I love stirges!  )_


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 23, 2002)

Update coming by Wednesday! I'm trying to catch us up to current before the next session!


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## Piratecat (Jul 23, 2002)

Cool!  i'm looking forward to it.

Hey, on a meta note, could you please make your .sig pic smaller? Tall images don't work very well, as they tend to violate the unspoken "your sig should never be longer than your post" rule.  Thanks - email me if this is a problem!

And if I haven't said it recently, this thread rocks.


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 23, 2002)

Doh, yeah, I'll take care of it when I get to work tomorrow!


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## ForceUser (Jul 24, 2002)

*Session One, Part 9*

*LEI EASED* his wounded comrade down onto the long wooden table in the living room of the ruined inn, which Hien had righted. Mai moaned and shuddered weakly as the young shaman took off her leaf hat and began to examine her. What he found wasn’t encouraging. “With the theft of her blood she has lost much vitality,” he told the others. “There is little my healing magic can do for her; the loss is great but the wounds are small. She must rest for a few days so her spirit can once again grow strong.” He smoothed Mai’s damp hair back from her forehead.  

Woo grunted. “Should we take her to the hostel down the street and get her a room?” Vinh nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps that is for the best. If I have time I can treat her and speed her recovery,” replied Hien.

“No…” gasped Mai, suddenly awake. “I…can go on.” She tried to rise.

Tam interjected, “Our time is limited; we must make use of it. We suggest that we get her a room and care while the rest of us continue.”

“You “we” or we “we?”” said Woo, exasperated, as he glowered at the wu jen. 

Tam looked at the monk, perplexed. He gestured at himself. “_We_ suggest…”

“Right,” said Tran, “anyway, I agree with, er, them,” he nodded at Tam, who grinned. “We should keep working, but we should certainly see to Mai’s wellbeing before we go on.” He looked at the pale young woman.

“I’m fine,” Mai’s voice, despite the resolve in it, quavered. “I’ll just stay to the back…” She stood and leaned on the table while glaring at the men, daring them to challenge her.

“Okay then, let’s get back to it,” announced Tran. And that was that.

The group walked out of the living room and looked around. Vinh pointed at the door across the yard from them. “That one.” He strode over and began to examine it. Woo and Lei joined him while the others took up defensive positions. From inside, Vinh heard the rattle of a heavy chain and a slow shuffle-drag of something walking. He told the others and they readied themselves for combat. Another rice-paper door, it took a surprising amount of effort for Vinh to slide it to his right. It was soon apparent why: the entire inside of the room behind the door was obscured by a cascade of giant spider webs, which adhered to the door, the frame, and the walls and ceiling inside. 

“What in the name of the Emperor…?” exclaimed Tran. 

“Stand back,” said Vinh, “and hand me a torch.”

In short order, Vinh took the blazing stick and shoved it into the webs. They burned, blackening and curling away from the fire. Stepping in, he continued to clear the opening. It was at that point that the cat-sized poisonous spider lurking on the ceiling dropped on his face, mandibles groping. Vinh yelled in surprise and pain as the sleek black arachnid bit down on his cheek and injected venom! Stumbling, he leaped out of the room and managed not to fall off the short wooden deck outside the door. As he retreated, Lei and Woo rushed forward – straight into the path of the hideous creature chained to the far wall inside. It stood about four feet tall, though its true height was hard to judge because of the way it hunched over. It appeared to be a man-sized humanoid rat with rotted flesh and mottled fur. The creature’s face was terrifying: its eyeless sockets burned with pinpricks of red flame, and in the places where the fur had fallen away, dry flesh could be seen scraping against dusty bone. Around its neck was a thick leather collar attached to a heavy chain; it slithered taut as the creature squirmed to get at the heroes. It moved with torpor, but hissed violently with rasping lungs and lunged at Lei with filthy claws. The mercenary deflected the blow with his shield and shouted behind him, “Monster!”

Beside Lei, Woo erupted into a whirlwind of blows, hammering at the spider with his staff. Behind the monk, Hien moved up while Vinh shook off the lethargy induced by the vermin’s poison. He focused his _ch’i_ until he exploded into a frenzy of invigorating energy and uttered a reverberating “HAI!!” Then he brandished his kama-do and dove back into the room. Outside, Tam dug into his spell component pouch and Tran waved his sword about cautiously and kept well back. Mai, bringing up the rear, paused to scan the courtyard. 

Across the yard, right of the piled barrels, a form moved in the shadows of an awning. Mai exclaimed, “Something’s watching us!” but her weakened voice was lost under sounds of the men vigorously crashing, shouting, and smashing things. Inside, Woo had splattered the first spider, but a second one had appeared, scuttling down the webs. In moments, he’d dispatched that one too. Beside him, Lei made short work of the slow-moving rat-creature with the help of Vinh, who used his polearm’s greater reach to attack from behind Lei. In seconds, the fight was done. 

“Back out,” said Hien, “I need to tend Vinh’s spider bite.” He had the no-sheng sit on the wood deck while he applied an herbal poultice that drew out the infected blood. Afterward, he cleaned the wound and applied a layer of herb-soaked mud. To Vinh, it smelled like mint. “We can go now,” said the shaman. Hien’s brown fox, Sca, sniffed at Vinh’s face. “Out,” Hien addressed the animal sternly, “wait outside.” The fox hung its head and padded across the yard and out the gate, where it stopped to look back forlornly. The red eagle, Hiraki, perched on the compound wall.

They walked into the room, avoiding the webs until Vinh and Tran, who had moved up and lit a torch, had burned them away. In the room, there stood two sliding doors opposite each other, north and south. Hien and Tam squatted to examine the desiccated corpse of the rat-man. After a few moments Hien announced “I don’t recognize this species, but it was once alive. Something turned it into a _kaung-shi_ – a zombie – and chained it to this wall.” Tam concurred.

The others exchanged grim looks. Lei and Vinh approached the south door and slid it open. On the other side lay a dark, squalid room with strange symbols on the walls and refuse littering the floor. Within stood another rat-man! This one appeared to be alive and female, and by the time the party realized the situation, she was already weaving her arms and chittering in a strange tongue. She thrust her clawed hand in front of her, and an eldritch bolt of black energy leaped from her fingers and ricocheted off the ceiling above Lei! Cursing, the group prepared to rush the room, but the witch was too fast. She wove her arms again and spoke in a different pattern…and disappeared. Lei strode into the room, and was surprised when two more rat-men leaped out from hiding spots on either side of the door frame, flanking him! Both creatures wielded scimitars and small shields, and one of them slashed a glancing blow under Lei’s leather scale cuirass, drawing blood. Lei deflected the other attack with his weapon and counterattacked, driving the smaller rat-man backward with the ferocity of his blow. 

It was at that moment that Tam decided to get involved. Up to this point, no one had really paid him much attention; other than his quirky speech and mannerisms, he had proven himself to be entirely forgettable. But the middle-aged magician strode up behind the combatants, assessed the situation, and cast a spell of his own. Yellow energy lanced up his arms as he spoke ancient words of power, and he pointed at the melee. At a spot slightly behind and between the two rat-men, Tam tipped the balance of _yin_ and _yang_ toward the element of *WOOD*, and the floor exploded in a violent shower of razor-sharp splinters. Both creatures screamed, and the one Lei had wounded dropped dead. Woo tumbled into the room, grappled the remaining rat-man in a mantis hold and twisted its neck. *Snap*. The creature died, and the battle was over.

to be continued...


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## ForceUser (Jul 25, 2002)

*Session One, Part 10*

*TAM MULLED* over the strange symbols on the walls of the musty room. They were written haphazardly in what appeared to be dried blood. “We are not sure what these writings mean,” he admitted to Tran and Mai. “We will need time to examine them at length.” He looked around the small space. Trash, hay, and bits of cloth littered the floor, and three piles of debris slouched against the east wall. Huge rat nests. A hinged wooden door stood open in the southwest corner of the room’s west wall, and beyond it the no sheng, mercenary, and monk crouched over a hole in the floorboards, peering into the earth below. “It’s some kind of crawl space for the rat-men,” said Lei. “I don’t think there’s anything to gain by climbing down there right now,” replied Woo. The rest of the group agreed.

“My power is depleted,” declared Hien, “the spirits will grant me no more healing until after next morning’s rituals.” The shaman had impressed everyone with his devotion to the spirit world, for obvious reasons – it produced powerful results. With a short invocation and a blessing on Lei, the wound he’d sustained fighting the rat-men had been undone. After a brief discussion, the party pulled out of the Golden Dragon Inn and left the grounds, headed for the Jade Unicorn hostel at the end of the street. By the time they arrived, walking at Mai’s weakened pace, the sun had begun a brilliant plummet to the horizon. 

The Jade Unicorn teemed with activity, just as it had at midday. As the weary adventurers entered, Hien stopped in the doorway and cast his last remaining spell for the day, _trance_. He left the mortal world behind for an instant, extending his consciousness into the building around him. For a moment he connected with the establishment’s guardian ancestor spirit, and then he was blinking his eyes and staring at a crowd of people, slack-jawed, who stared back at him. The expressions on their faces ranged from fear and awe to irritation and amusement. Hien, suddenly embarrassed, apologized and walked back outside. A waitress approached the others, who stood in the doorway perplexed over the young shaman’s behavior. “Hello, welcome to the Jade Unicorn Inn,” she bowed, “I am Nguyen Thi Dai, and this is my mother’s hotel.” There came a round of introductions from the party. 

“Thank you for coming to our place,” continued the girl, “and we are honored to serve a spirit-talker and his friends.” She dropped her voice lower and continued apologetically, “Unfortunately, can you ask the holy one not to speak to spirits in the common room? He has frightened some of the customers.” A few people were indeed leaving, and many murmured and pointed at the group. 

“I’ll talk to him,” offered Mai, and she slipped outside while the others saw to getting food and rooms for the night. 

Hien sat on the edge of the porch with his animals. “I’m sorry!” he said again, “I didn’t know that it would bother anyone! The folk in Hoa Binh saw my master and me commune with spirits every day and thought nothing of it! I’m sorry!” 

“It’s okay. No one’s angry. Why don’t you come have supper with us?” soothed Mai. It took a few minutes, but she convinced him to go back inside. 

The party ate and retired to their rooms, and the mistress of the house, one rotunda of a matron named Nguyen Thi Shu, ordered an herbal bath drawn for Mai. She forced the young woman to strip and sit in the nearly scalding water as she dumped various ground leaves and powders into the mixture. Mai began to feel lightheaded. As she dozed in and out, the woman and her daughter Dai massaged her muscles and inserted long pins into crucial places in her back, bleeding away tension and negative _ch’i_. When they were done, they toweled her off, dressed her in a robe, and called in young Hien. He spent some time examining their work, approved, and the three of them took Mai to her bed, where Hien burned incense and meditated to focus the flow of healing energy through the room. 

An hour later he turned in. He shared a room with Tam, and the older man appeared deep in study of various scrolls when he arrived. “She will heal?” the wizard asked. Hien collapsed on his cot. Sca, the fox, jumped up onto the foot of the mat and settled down to sleep. “Oh yes,” assured the shaman, “she will be fine in a day or two…”

Next: Back to the Golden Dragon! Things that make you go "aahhhgghhh!" And the burning smell of dead bodies wafting across the Noble's District!


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## Olive (Jul 25, 2002)

between you and rune, all i want to do is run an OA campaign...

sigh.

Ah well, do you mind telling me a bit more about the websites you used for research?

Thanks...

Also, maybe I've missed something, but are there any non human PC races?


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 25, 2002)

Olive said:
			
		

> *between you and rune, all i want to do is run an OA campaign...
> 
> sigh.
> 
> ...




Thanks 

Currently, no, there are no non-human races offered. I can say no more; my players are reading 

I scoured a lot of websites to come up with enough background information to run a campaign. I know next to nothing about Vietnamese culture, so it took some digging. Some of the best spots I visited include:

Traditional Symbols of Vietnam 

Vietnamese & Chinese names

Vietnamese Names (This site is great because it doesn't just list them, it explains them in detail. For instance, I found out that prior to 1945, all Vietnamese women had the same middle name - Thi!) 

Vietnamese History: Confucianism, Colonialism and the Struggle for Independence

An Introduction to Vietnam

Buddhism in Vietnam

U.S. State Department website (There is a wealth of information here on every country in the world!)

Chinese Zodiac

Martials Arts of Vietnam

And finally, *THE BEST KUNG FU SITE I HAVE EVER SEEN*


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## Olive (Jul 26, 2002)

also, which rokugan stuff are you using? just the monsters? or classes and stuff?


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 26, 2002)

Olive said:
			
		

> *also, which rokugan stuff are you using? just the monsters? or classes and stuff? *




Nothing, really. No samurai or shugenja, no iaijutsu master, no ninja spy, etc.  I removed iaijutsu focus from the sohei's (no-sheng's) skill list and gave them balance instead. I probably won't use any of the oni monsters or anything else that sounds japanese. I'm trying to keep it in southeast asia


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## Piratecat (Jul 26, 2002)

ForceUser@Home said:
			
		

> *Currently, no, there are no non-human races offered. *




"Dude! I have this kickin' idea for this half-fiend half-orc ninja wizard! Can I play in your game?  Please?"  

In retrospect, that's probably a good idea.


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## Olive (Jul 27, 2002)

I really want to start a Chinese based campaign, with no japanese influence in it, so this is all a bit of an inspiration to me. Looking forward to the next episode!


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 27, 2002)

That's great! Japanese culture is very cool, but it's so popularized that I just had to do something different. Also, my players tend to prefer homebrew campaigns anyway. My attempt at a Forgotten Realms campaign fell flat, so I pondered for several months and came up with this. They seem to be enjoying it 

If you're really interested in doing a Chinese campaign, you should keep an eye on _Romance of the Five Planets_ by Oath Bros. Looks like it's going to be fantastic 

Update coming this weekend! We're almost current!


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## Tonguez (Jul 28, 2002)

ForceUser@Home said:
			
		

> *I probably won't use any of the oni monsters or anything else that sounds japanese. I'm trying to keep it in southeast asia  *




Thank you ForceUser you have restored my faith in OA!
I hated the fact that OA had become the Rokugan sourcebook (though I like Japanese culture) and so had pretty much dismissed it until I read your Vietnamese game.

So now my faith is retored I can use the OA rules to convert my Mongolian Empire setting and its Khitai area!

Much kudos to you for a great story too - can't wait to read more


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## ForceUser@Home (Jul 29, 2002)

*Session Two, Part One*

*TWO DAYS* later, the party trudged back to the Golden Dragon. They had left the gate unlocked but it appeared that no one had trespassed while they were away. Small wonder. Dragonflies buzzed among the tall grasses of the estate as they made their way up the path and back into the family gate of the forlorn inn-house. Cautiously, the group rechecked the rooms they’d battled in previously. All clear. Following Vinh and Lei, they crept inside the central building and returned to the nest-room of the rat-people, which had once been a guestroom. 

“The bodies are gone!” exclaimed Woo. Lei checked the tunnel in the next room. It slithered six feet down in the musty light and disappeared. “No obvious tracks,” said the mercenary. In the nest room, Tam examined the blood-soaked walls, periodically stopping to record information on a scroll. After a few minutes, he announced, “We have deciphered these inscriptions. They are written in a barbaric arcane language. Primal, one could say.” The others paused. “The sentiment ’A convergence of blood to drown the Neshumi’ repeats many times. A mantra.” He scratched his head. “We don’t know who the Neshumi are.” The wizard glanced at Hien. The younger man shook his head. “Nor do I.”

“Hm,” Lei grunted, “Anyway, we’ve got more rooms to cover. I’d wager the rats are gone now, though.” 

He was right. They killed more large spiders, and survived a harrowing moment when Vinh’s foot plunged through the rotted deck and stuck, only to be swarmed by a nest of giant centipedes from under the floorboards. The no-sheng scraped some flesh off when he tore his foot out, and the party made short work of the vermin. Once again, Hien treated his poisoned wounds. 

Eventually satisfied the main building was clear, the party checked the stables and discovered a large hole in the ground tucked away in the northeast corner inside a stall. The stables were adjacent with the central structure on that wall, and they soon realized that this was the larger part of the same hole under the floorboards inside the inn. The party gathered around the dusty opening in the stables and looked down into the darkness. 

“That’s a big hole,” noted Vinh. “Big enough for a horse…” Woo nodded.

“I guess we should take a look around down there,” ventured Tran. He glanced at Lei. “Yes, master,” the fighter grimaced and dug into his backpack for a rope. A few minutes later, he rappelled down into the dark. Woo and Vinh followed next, and the rest of the group cautiously worked their way down afterward. At the bottom, about 30 feet below the surface, the stronger warriors helped the less physically inclined to the dirty floor. From down here, dust drifted from the floorboards of the inn above. They could see into both the guestroom and the stables.

“The rats must have tunneled up and out, then used the dirt to fill the barrels in front of the storehouse,” suggested Vinh. He and Woo had noted on the previous trip that the dozens of barrels stacked against the storehouse door were filled with dry soil. “There’s a tunnel that leads west,” called Lei from across the room. He held a torch and was peering into the black beyond their vision. In his other hand he gripped his scimitar. 

The others armed themselves and stepped into the tunnel, following Lei. The ceiling was low, about 6 feet, but it was wide enough that two people could walk side-by-side. Here and there, thick wooden supports held up the walls at precarious angles, giving the passageway a claustrophobic feel. It meandered on for some time until Mai realized, “You know, we’re not under the Golden Dragon property anymore.” The party stopped.

“Should we go on?” asked Vinh as he shifted his kama-do carefully. The weapon was all but useless in the cramped space.

Tran spoke up. “Our instructions were to clean up the inn. I’m not sure this qualifies.”

“We agree,” offered Tam, “the rats are gone. We can explore another time.”

Hien shook his head. “While this tunnel exists they can return. I’m not sure leaving it is wise.”

“We’re on a deadline,” argued Woo. “It’s going to take many days to make the inn presentable again. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, and we’ve no idea how far this tunnel could lead.”

“Let’s go back, then,” said Lei. “We can block it on our end.”

And so they did. Several hours later, sweating and grimy, Hien, Lei, Vinh, and Woo relaxed at the bottom of the vertical shaft and examined their handiwork. A dozen barrels full of soil blocked the opening of the tunnel, three deep. They had wedged them in tight, making it all but impossible to pull them out again without hacking them to pieces with an axe. Approving, they shimmied up the rope and reemerged on the surface to a dazzling afternoon sun. Hien’s eagle, Hiraki, soared high overhead.

“We have stalled long enough,” said Woo, “Let’s find out what was frightening enough to imprison in the storehouse.” He jogged across the center rooms and emerged in the family yard. The others followed, and the men began rolling barrels away from the barred double doors. While they did that, Mai climbed onto the roof and looked for a crack or a hole she could use to spy into the building. The roof was in good repair, however, and she dropped back to the ground unsatisfied. Half an hour later, the fatigued men finished their chore. They rested for a while afterward, and then Woo stood up and approached the doors. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his long braided hair swayed as he hopped up onto the deck in front of the storehouse. Vinh and Lei followed more slowly and took up positions flanking Woo. As the three of them stood in front of doors preparing themselves, a noise echoed from within.

_Sshhhhhhhhhhhhh-*THUNK*. SshhhhhhhhhhhHHH-*THUNK*._ Dust suddenly billowed out between the wooden planks as both doors shuddered and bowed toward the party.  Something inside was leaning on them. Something large. 

Woo breathed methodically. _The water is calm._

He reached out with his bamboo staff and levered the heavy bar off the door. As it clattered to the deck, he jumped back. Lei reached out and yanked open the left-side door, stepping back with it as it swung out. Vinh, his weapon at the ready, saw the monster first. 

Another kaung-shi, this one much larger than a man. It towered over them as it lunged forward, dragging one long ape-like arm behind it and raising the other high overhead. Its fists were large as a human skull, and its body was leathery, rotted, and dry. Unlike the rat-zombie, this creature had eyes, although one had caved into the skull, and the other had lolled back into its head. The creature’s nose was long and hooked, the face broad and wart-riddled, and the form emaciated and disproportionate – the arms were far too long. 

The sorcerer’s minions burst into motion. Hien invoked the spirits to _bless_ and guide their actions. In response, little invisible voices began to whisper in each person’s ear, encouraging them to be brave while suggesting where best to strike. Bolstered, the group assaulted their foe. Tam twisted yin and yang to cause a burst of stone shrapnel on the floor behind the monster, Vinh focused his ch’i and lunged, and Lei and Woo stepped up to harass the creature with telling blows. After one clumsy swipe at Woo, the kaung-shi fell. The party rejoiced. 

Inside, they found the remains of seven dead rat-men, partially eaten. Two of them lay near long poles with hooks on the end. On the kaung-shi’s corpse, Lei spotted a leather collar with rings. They formed a theory; the kaung-shi had been created elsewhere and driven here underground and up the tunnel by the rat-men, for what purpose, unknown. The dead rats all had red fur like the others they’d fought days before. A tribe, they concluded. 

After a final sweep of the storeroom, which turned out to be empty other than the corpses, and a larger sweep of the premises, which they determined to be clear of vermin, the adventure was over. Now the real work began: they had eleven days to turn the Golden Dragon Inn into a shining example of order and cleanliness. 

Lei sighed. He would have preferred more rat-men. 



*Next: What IS that smell?*


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## Corey II (Jul 30, 2002)

I have not read all of your story yet, but I'm loving what I have read so far.  Great idea!


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## ForceUser (Jul 31, 2002)

Thanks! 

Update coming soon! We play this Saturday!


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## Welverin (Jul 31, 2002)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *Thanks!
> 
> Update coming soon! We play this Saturday! *




Yeah!

I've been wondering what level you started everyone at.


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## Vymair (Jul 31, 2002)

We started at first.   In the story, we are still first level, but at the end of the second session we all leveled.


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## Brian K. Moseley (Aug 1, 2002)

A story well told, ForceUser.  I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.

I too am in San Diego, and game on Saturdays.  Small world!


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## Maldur (Aug 1, 2002)

Great story!

I humbly await your next update.

Have a good game saterday!


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## ForceUser (Aug 1, 2002)

*Session Two, Part Two*

*HIEN GAGGED* and covered his mouth. He glanced at Woo, who looked at the fire with a concerned expression. Lei held his jacket sleeve to his face and stoked the flames. On the other side of the Golden Dragon’s yard, Mai and Vinh had dropped their load of rotted timber and were staring in their direction. Atop a stack of discarded wood planks, destroyed furniture, and assorted garbage, a blazing bonfire consumed the remains of the seven ratlings, the two kaung-shi, and the various giant vermin. Thick black smoke bullied its way into the atmosphere, and a wind from the nearby Red River coaxed it south over the Nobles District. The smell of charred putrescent flesh permeated the grounds. 

“Maybe no one will notice,” offered Tam from the driveway. Woo shot him an incredulous look. 

“Too late now,” grunted Lei, “might as well get it over with.” He stoked the fire some more. The heat was fierce in the afternoon sun. Hien stepped back, his face red and sweaty. The smoke drifted directly toward an adjacent estate, and dipped onto the manor house. Servants could be seen shutting windows on the property. A dog barked from the backyard. 

The group had spent the day laboring inside the inn, ripping up ruined floorboards, clearing out nests of harmless vermin, and hauling junk and garbage out to the property’s edge. Hien and Vinh had spent a few hours cleaning the shrine before joining the others. Tran had been gone all day, off to the Market District to find artisans and laborers for hire. Chung Lah had made an appearance, watching in silence from the property gates as the party worked. He departed shortly after midday without a word. After a short discussion that afternoon, the group decided to burn the corpses of their foes, and now they watched in embarrassment as the evil vapor marched across the estates of the wealthy. Whoops.

The adventurers put their heads down and worked. As they continued, spectators could be seen from time to time at the gates, pointing at the fire or the inn. A few household guards arrived, angry about the smoke, but there wasn’t much they could do. It was illegal to set foot upon the Emperor’s property without permission, and the party ignored them. Finally, a City Defense Force patrolman arrived and demanded acknowledgement. Woo trotted over, taking note of the two house guards flanking the soldier. They each wore different uniforms. 

“You there! Why…ahhh, a monk!” The soldier began to bluster, then noticed Woo’s attire and instantly changed his demeanor. “Pardon, sir, but why are you burning this fire within city limits? The City Magistrate has declared that no fires be burned until after the first rainfall of the season.”

“Forgive us,” Woo said simply, “We were not aware.”

“This property has been closed for years. Are you an imperial employee?” 

“Yes, we work for one of the Emperor’s mandarins. Yao Ren Phai.” 

“Aiii…a yao ren!” exclaimed the soldier. The house guards traded nervous looks. “Forgive me, honored one, but if you have imperial sanction then these men have no argument. Normally, a permit is required to build a fire in the off-season. Fire is so deadly, and your smoke is blowing into people’s homes. This man’s employer has a weak constitution and begs that, if at all possible, you put out the fire.” He gestured at one of the guards and smiled ingratiatingly before continuing. “Also, I am shamed to ask, but may I see your writ of employment?”

That gave Woo pause. “I’m afraid I don’t have such a document. The administrator who hired us is at market today. When he returns I will ask him to copy our writ and send it to your patrol station. We will put out the fire. Forgive us for causing you trouble. One of our number is a healer, perhaps he can treat your master?” Woo looked at the guard indicated. The man nodded and responded in a scratchy voice, “Of course. My mistress is Tien-La Thi Cao, and her home is over there, across that retaining wall from the Golden Dragon.” The man pointed. Woo looked and nodded.

“If that is all?” the monk indicated he considered the conversation over. The men-at-arms thanked him, bowed, and left.

They put out the fire and buried what remained of the bodies under the back of the lot. Hien collected his healing kit and visited the Tien-La estate, later describing the experience as something best forgotten. To put it mildly, the old woman had not been friendly. Tran returned late that afternoon with a few foremen in tow, and they appraised the property with experienced eyes. Yes, it could be done in nine days with a large enough work force. Yes, they knew some gardeners and painters, and a man who worked in iron who could repair all the gates. It would be expensive, Tran calculated, but within the party’s means. That settled, the group secured the property with the new padlock Tran had bought that day and returned to their rooms at the Jade Unicorn. Mai sat with Dai and Shu late into the evening, talking about the events of the day. Dai was excited that the Golden Dragon was to be restored, but behind Shu’s friendly smile was a businesswoman trying to find out if she was about to have competition. 

The next day, workers showed up, a general foreman was chosen, and the revitalization of the inn began in earnest. Tran oversaw the project, and was heard humming happily to himself throughout the day as he made decisions, settled disputes, negotiated contracts, and chatted with the foreman about building code and property values. The rest of the party helped as they could, allowing the professional artisans and craftsmen to direct their efforts. The grounds teemed with over forty workers, and wagons and carts brought supplies throughout the day. 

Things progressed. The first few days were spent tearing down the old and the unsafe, and the next few days found the crew building up the new. The iron gates were removed and repaired, and several buildings were re-roofed. The entire grounds were landscaped with fertile soil, and trees and bushes were shipped in from the market and planted into the new gardens. A reflection pool was dug, flowers were planted across the grounds, the koi pond was emptied, scrubbed, and refilled and old walkways were dotted with new flagstones. Gables were repainted, as was the gold dragon atop the main gate, and furniture was bought and moved into the newly floored rooms. The foreman argued vigorously with the party about the hole in the earth inside the stables; he wanted to build a shed around it with a solid lock. The group insisted, however, that the hole remain untouched, and the worker finally gave up in frustration, turning his expertise to other matters.

On the evening of the eighth day since the remodeling began, Woo raked rocks around the new garden while quietly meditating. The day’s work was done, for the most part, and in the dim light of dusk the workers collected their things and left in small groups, headed to their homes and dinners. The foreman lingered at the family gate of the compound, talking with the artisan who’d repaired it. The man glanced down the drive while talking, then whistled to get Woo’s attention. Someone stood at the front gate. Woo started, his reverie broken, then nodded at the foreman – an honest man and a hard worker – and trudged down the path to the entrance.  Many visitors had come by during the remodeling. According to Dai, the Shih’s District was abuzz with talk of the reopening of the Golden Dragon; apparently, it had once been quite the popular establishment. People had also approached the group at night when they gathered to recap the day at dinner, inquiring about this or that and trying to get a sense of the reason behind their efforts. Are you the new owners? Was it finally sold? Did the Emperor plan on going into the hospitality business, one fellow had wryly asked (this elicited quite a chuckle at the table). No, no, and no. Just following orders.

The man at the gate stood like a king surveying his domain. He was tall, middle-aged, and wore the traditional garb of a wealthy lord. He watched Woo approach with an air of bemusement, but smiled when the monk arrived to greet him. Woo bowed, and the lord bowed back – barely. “Hello!” said Woo, “I am Han Woo. Can I be of some service?” The noble nodded and gestured with his left hand. His right hand he held behind his back, in proper courtly fashion. “Greetings, honored one. I am Nguyen Vo Do. You’ve met my wife and daughter, I believe. They run the Jade Unicorn.” 

“Ah, yes!” exclaimed Woo. “Would you like to tour the grounds?”

“I’d be delighted.” Woo opened the door for him, and the man strode through. “You are of the Han Bai school, are you not?” 

“Yes,” said Woo, honored. “I am here at the request of the state.”

“Really? How interesting,” said Nguyen. “I have been away on business for some time, but my wife informed me that we might have some competition now, so I thought I’d see for myself.” He grinned.

“Ah! Um, this way,” said Woo. He led the merchant through the garden, pausing at the stone-wreathed reflection pool before leading him up to the house. They walked through the guestrooms, stopped at the shrine, and then exited through the family gate back out onto the grounds. Woo was careful not to take Nguyen anywhere near the stables. “I am most impressed! You’ve done very well!” beamed the man. “Thi Dai speaks highly of you and your friends. Will you join us for dinner tomorrow night? We would be honored.” Nguyen inclined his head at Woo and smiled again. A bit nonplussed, Woo agreed. He led the merchant to the main gates and bid him farewell. 

_What an odd encounter,_ he thought.

Dinner was, if anything, tedious. Tam neglected to attend, and Lei quickly decided he was the lucky one. It was obvious that Thi Shu and Vo Do had a vested interest in remaining on top in the local hostel industry, and they guarded that interest by peppering the group with veiled questions and suggestions regarding the operation of such a place. Dai and her younger brother Vit were simply excited to have such interesting guests, and much of the meal’s conversation centered on the group’s home regions and lives. The party spent the evening trying to keep the conversation light and off the topic of the fate of the Golden Dragon. For the most part, they succeeded, but Mai couldn’t help but notice the subtle looks of satisfaction on the parents’ faces. They obviously felt they’d accomplished something tonight. Mai didn’t know what.


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## Hjorimir (Aug 2, 2002)

*Han Woo*

Woo is a somewhat stuffy monk. He is slow to give over his trust in others (a throwback from his past that I won't go into at this time). Of the group, Woo likes Vinh, frowns at Tam, scowls at Lei, and tolerates the others.

Vinh has noticed that some of Woo's martial arts, where he mimics the movements of a mantis, are not those taught by the Han Bai. The others, are oblivious to such things.


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## ForceUser (Aug 7, 2002)

*Session Two, Part Three*

*THE SORCERER* grunted once in acknowledgement as he brushed by the assembled party on the grounds of the old inn. Tran led him up the path, pointing out this and that, and Woo and Vinh followed at a respectful distance, ready to answer any questions. Behind the rest of the group, Chung Lah stood at the main entrance. Scowling, of course. The man never smiled.

As Tran related the events of their assignment, Phai nodded brusquely and inserted occasional comments. “We have never heard of these rat-men, master,” noted Vinh, “Do you know what they are?” “Vermin,” replied the yao ren, “They are of no consequence.” Tran took the little procession around the finished grounds of the hostel, pausing in various rooms to explain to the mandarin what they had found there. The man seemed impatient. Finally, Tran led him to the stables and displayed the gaping hole in the earth. He outlined in detail what they had found below.

“We weren’t sure what you wished us to do with this pit, master, so we left it alone.” The noble deferred to the sorcerer.

“Close it up.” Yao Ren Phai replied. The three young men bobbed their heads. 

“It will be done,” replied Vinh.

Minutes later, the group stood with the mandarin in front of the estate. “You’ve done well,” he declared, “You may be the servants the Emperor needs. For now, he will keep you in his employ with a continued retainer of one hundred taels twice a month.” He paused. “The Golden Dragon will be your home until further notice. You may arrange your quarters as it suits you and live in it how you wish. However, you _will not_ reopen it as an inn. You will not profit off the Emperor’s grace. A housekeeper will be sent along at the expense of the imperial scepter. Have you any questions?” A bit dumbfounded, the party shook their heads. “I will not call on you for some time; there are other matters that require my attention. Do as you wish, but do not leave Thang Long, and stay out of trouble. Should people ask, you are the owners of the property and are using it as a private residence.” This gave them pause. 

Hesitantly, Woo ventured, “We have already informed several people of the nature of our service here.” Phai scowled and said, “Who? Give me their names.” The group discussed it briefly and came up with a short list. “Very well. I will deal with this. Do not spread the nature of your employment about carelessly henceforth. Understood?” They nodded. “Then farewell.” The sorcerer departed with a flourish, bodyguard in tow.

“Wow,” said Hien, echoing the general sentiment of the others. They turned to look at their new home. Several of them displayed happy, lopsided grins. Perched atop the iron gates, the painted dragon grinned back.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

The next month passed quickly. Woo, Vinh, and Lei spent most of the time in physical training, honing newly learned skills. Lei also spent his time building a practice yard for the three of them and grooming the horses. He spent many of his evenings in the stables, and the others soon noted his love for the animals. With Mai’s help, Tam tracked down an older wu jen who lived in a squat pagoda-like tower in one of the city’s poorer districts, and convinced the man to part with some spell scrolls, which he eagerly scribed into his own spellbook. Hien spent his days at doctors’ clinics around the city, tending to the poor and the elderly, and his nights reveling in his powerful new-found *Sight*, which allowed him to peer across into the places where the Spirit World borders the mortal realm. 

A fortnight later, the Fish Festival arrived in Thang Long, heralding the end of summer. For three days, multicolored streamers and fireworks filled the air, partygoers took to the streets, and rice-paper boats set with candles drifted down the city’s many canals. The temples and shrines burst with folk waiting to offer thanks to their ancestor and patron spirits, and street vendors hawked rich foods and drink. The celebration culminated on the third day with a massive parade down the Emperor’s Avenue, the single widest lane in the city, which ran all the way from the East Gate to the West Gate and circled the Imperial Palace at the center. All in all, everyone had a fine time, and Mai used the festival to earn her keep with Bay and the giang-ju, pilfering the houses of the rich while they danced in the streets.

Two nights into the festival, Hien sat in his room studying the bronze statuette Mai had found on their first day exploring the Golden Dragon. He had bought a set of weights and measures and an alchemy kit, and had deduced that although the exterior of the object was made of bronze, the interior was solid lead. Odd. As he sat there pondering why someone would make a statuette of lead, the shadows in his room grew thick, choking the light from his candle. Startled, he stood up and glanced around, peering into the dark and the realm of spirits simultaneously. Something – a shadow within a shadow – moved along the south wall and slipped into the night. Hien followed cautiously, grabbing his cudgel and quietly stepping over the sleeping form of his fox, Sca. As he crept to the exit, he heard a loud thump from the shrine next door. “Hello?” he called outside. Nothing. Most of the others were out celebrating, although he knew Lei was somewhere on the far side of the estate, building his practice yard. 

A cool breeze greeted Hien as he stepped into the night. The moon shone bright as leaves rustled across the deserted grounds. He walked to the shrine’s entrance, and could hear revelers laughing in the distance. The rice paper and wood door was slightly open even though Hien was certain he’d closed it that afternoon. Gripping his cudgel tighter, he advanced on the door and slowly drew it back to reveal a waking dream. Instead of the 10x15 interior of the tiny shrine, he saw a long corridor into darkness. A chill mist rolled out from behind the door into the night, swirling about his feet. And standing twenty feet down the shadowy, ethereal hall was – impossibly – a beautiful maiden.

She seemed both older and younger than Hien himself. Her long white robes were gilded in gold and cut in an alien design; likewise, her hair coiled high upon an elaborate headdress atop her head, in an equally unfamiliar style. But her eyes…her eyes captivated Hien. They were dark and lustrous as a pair of finely cut onyx stones, and in the moonlight filtered in from the family yard they glinted in…fear? No, sorrow. So lovely was the woman that Hien felt her sorrow as a living thing bursting from his chest, and he heaved a ragged breath to choke back tears. “…Lady?” he whispered. 

But the woman turned and walked down the hall, trailing one exquisite hand along the wall as she went. Hien stood dumbfounded, merely watching. But she turned and held his eyes with hers, a plea. Before he realized it, Hien had stepped into the tunnel and left the night behind.

Shadows enveloped him, and the mysterious woman became the bright, blazing center of his universe. He stumbled after her as the dark groped at him, trying gamely to catch up to her, to ask her who she was, and what he could do to help her. But try as he might, the gulf between them widened, and so he ran, down the corridor, stumbling into the walls and careening along until he thought his lungs would burst from his breast, and still he could not catch her. And then she stopped short, and Hien saw she stood at the end of the corridor at a pair of doors. They were massive, impregnable, daunting. Ringed in cold silver, gilded in pale blue light, taller than the sky. Somehow, Hien had stopped, shaking and exhausted, but a few scant paces from the doors. His breath, he noticed, puffed out into the air visibly, and he wondered what that meant. He shivered, and realized that beneath the sweat, he was cold. 

She smiled at him then, a wan smile, a smile of hopelessness, and touched the doors. Then she _was_ the doors, then she was behind the doors, and then she was gone. Hien cried out and rushed forward to fling open the massive portal, but when he touched it a shock of ice ran through his soul, and he screamed in pain and crumpled. When he opened his eyes, he lay on the floor of the shrine.


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## Vymair (Aug 8, 2002)

*Character Roster in Rogue's Gallery*

I have posted Vinh in the rogue's gallery if anyone is interested.


http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=20115


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## ForceUser@Home (Aug 8, 2002)

*Session Two, Part Four*

*TAM PONDERED* the young shaman’s story. “Interesting,” he said at last, “We have never heard of such a thing. The apparel you described was also unfamiliar to us.” The wizard sat down on a stool next to the shaman’s bed. 

“Well, she’s gone now. And I don’t know what it meant,” the young man sighed. The others assumed Hien had seen a vision sent by the spirits, but even so they heeded his suggestion to post guards on the shrine for most of the following day. All was quiet, however, and he hadn’t seen the strange young woman since. “I think she wanted to show me the door. Or lead me through it. Something!” He got up and paced the room. Sca darted around his feet. 

Except for the person on guard duty, everyone had pitched in that day to fill up the hole in the stable floor. It was painful, backbreaking labor, but they got it done, emptying all the barrels back into the pit, and filling it the rest of the way up with dirt from the back of the property. As they lay about late that morning resting from their efforts, the housekeeper had come calling. 

“I am Mister Ng! Let me in!” he had declared upon arriving. Bemused, Lei had opened the gates and welcomed him. Mister Ng was a crusty old geezer who stood all of four feet tall. His back was bent from a lifetime of labor, his iron-gray hair stuck out at wild angles, and he squinted like a coal miner exposed to light for the first time in days. His hands were large and strong, though, and they found out later, deft as well. He had taken one look at Lei and marched him off to market to buy fresh garlic and carrots. He had then hoisted his baggage on Woo and sent the monk along to find him suitable quarters. “Who are you again?” Woo had asked. “I am your new servant,” the old man had replied smugly. The monk wandered off to puzzle over that one while the housekeeper commandeered the kitchen. When he pitched a fit about some unfathomable discrepancy concerning the cookware, Mai decided she could use a relaxing night at the docks among the killers and thieves.  By dusk, Mister Ng had those who’d foolishly remained behind rearranging the furniture throughout the estate, “because the feng shui was hideously wrong.” That night however, he cooked them a grand feast that almost made up for the extra work. Almost. 

After several more days, it was decided that Mister Ng was a fine housekeeper who did his job flawlessly. He kept strange hours though, and it was generally surmised that he did not sleep in his room at the Golden Dragon very often. Curious, Mai followed the old man one night when he disappeared after dinner. He meandered through the darkened streets of the city, eventually entering an alley in a little-traveled area of the Market District. She watched as he walked to the end of the alley, exchanged money with a couple of ruffians she didn’t know, and disappeared inside a warehouse building for several hours. Later, the housekeeper exited, shared a joke with the ruffians, and continued on his way to the Garden District, where he knocked on the door of a tiny home that shared a wall with a bakery. A wizened old woman answered, and they exchanged pleasantries before she finally let him in and closed the door. Mai waited a bit, then left. The next day, a friend of Bay’s told her what the place in the market was: an illegal gambling den. Ah. Well, she was certainly no one to judge, and she let the matter drop without telling the others.

Four days later, after nearly two months of complacency, Yao Ren Phai arrived on their doorstep during the evening meal, ever-present bodyguard in tow. He appeared more relaxed than usual, and even offered a twitch of his lip that could have been a smile.  To Hien, he seemed to be favoring his left side, and Mai noticed that Chung Lah’s boots were caked with crusty red mud. The sorcerer waved away an offer of dinner and got straight to the point. “It is time you continued your service to the Emperor. You will leave within three days for the city of Te Han in the south…”


*NEXT:**
THE CURSE OF THE MONKEY WOMAN!*


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## ForceUser (Aug 8, 2002)

Brian K. Moseley said:
			
		

> *A story well told, ForceUser.  I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
> 
> I too am in San Diego, and game on Saturdays.  Small world!   *




I had meant to reply to these! Thanks Brian! I checked out Darkfuries.com and your product line looks neat! I might have to buy something 

Maldur, Corey II, and Welverin: thanks! And stick around, we're just getting started. Picture, if you will, an entire group plunged to negative and single digit hit points in one round by one CR 2 encounter...

It was a beautiful thing, I tell ya


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## Welverin (Aug 9, 2002)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *
> Maldur, Corey II, and Welverin: thanks! And stick around, we're just getting started. Picture, if you will, an entire group plunged to negative and single digit hit points in one round by one CR 2 encounter...
> 
> It was a beautiful thing, I tell ya  *




Yeah, but only to a Rat Bastard DM!


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## ForceUser@Home (Aug 9, 2002)

I'll take that as a compliment!

In truth, Hjorimir (Woo's player) is far more of a rat bastard DM than I


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## Maldur (Aug 9, 2002)

> In truth, Hjorimir (Woo's player) is far more of a rat bastard DM than I




But is he a rat bastard player as well?


Great story! Hope i find time to go online this weekend and see if you got more


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## Hjorimir (Aug 9, 2002)

*Rat Bastard DM?!?!*

I'm sure I have no idea what ForceUser is talking about. My campaign is filled with rainbows, sunny days, and super powerful magic items where the players are in true control of their own destiny!


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## Welverin (Aug 9, 2002)

*Bunnies?*



			
				Hjorimir said:
			
		

> *I'm sure I have no idea what ForceUser is talking about. My campaign is filled with rainbows, sunny days, and super powerful magic items where the players are in true control of their own destiny! *




Does it have bunnies? If so can I play too?


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## ForceUser@Home (Aug 12, 2002)

I was going to post an update this weekend but I got a little, er, sidetracked by Anarchy Online. I'll try to post it tomorrow or Tuesday!


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## Black Omega (Aug 12, 2002)

Well, get to work!

I've been quite enjoying the storyhour so far, but you have to keep feeding the need.  I'm imnpressed by all the dialogue, do you tape the game or is that all just from memory?


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## ForceUser@Home (Aug 12, 2002)

Black Omega said:
			
		

> *I've been quite enjoying the storyhour so far, but you have to keep feeding the need.  I'm imnpressed by all the dialogue, do you tape the game or is that all just from memory? *




Thanks!

In the case of NPCs, the dialogue is nearly word-for-word; I rehearse lines between sessions. I'm somewhat more liberal with the PCs, but I try to get the right sentiments out of the right characters, and when I can't remember exactly what was said, I wing it!


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## ShadowPaly (Aug 13, 2002)

I have posted Andou Hue Hien on:

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&postid=306257#post306257


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## ForceUser (Aug 13, 2002)

*Session Three, Part One*

*DUST KICKED* up angrily in protest to the clip-clop of over a dozen hooves as the sorcerer’s Hand rode south and west away from the Imperial province of Ha Noi. The mood among the adventurers ranged from pensive to bored as they reflected on the yao ren’s orders.

“_The Minister of State informs me that there have been problems in the Te province to the south,_” he had said,”_A tax collector has disappeared, and several villages have failed to pay their taxes. Journey to the city of Te Han and speak to Chief Yu, commander of the police force there. He is your point of contact and will have more information for you. Leave no later than three days hence._”  

“_There is also the matter of your salary. In his wisdom, the Emperor has decided that since you are living on his estate and eating what his servant provides you, he will no longer pay you a retainer. You are wealthy people and can provide for yourselves when you want something other than room and board. Instead, when you are in need of money for traveling expenses you may contact Gaung the Moneylender in the Market District, and he will provide you operating money. Remember, it is a privilege to serve._” The yao ren had looked smug. The group had nodded, except for Lei. 

“_Am I now a common servant, master? You did not hire me to work for free._” Lei had challenged the sorcerer with his eyes. Phai had scowled a moment then replied, “We will speak of it in private” before exiting the dining room with a flourish. Phai had not returned, but Lei did, with a carefully neutral expression on his face. The others had said nothing. 

Gaung the Moneylender had proven to be an insufferably shrewd man. Lei and Tran had informed him of their need but ended up having to justify their travel expenses, to which the gaunt merchant had jotted down notes. He had then called for a sum of one thousand taels, signed and stamped the appropriate documents, and sent them on their way with a chuckle of superiority at their backs. Tran had fumed.

While they had procured the funds for the assignment, Mai had spent time in Thang Long’s taverns and drinking halls trying to learn information about the tenor of the south. Te Han, it was widely known, was a prosperous city in the southern highlands, and she had learned much about the place she didn’t care to know – local imports (wine and rice) and exports (silk, steel, and wool). But she did pick up an interesting nugget about the region east of the Te province along the coast of southern Dai Viet. “_There is rumor of a bandit leader operating along the southern coast calling himself Fierce Wind,_” she had later related to the others, “_It is said he rallies criminals and farmers against the throne, and that he is the reason the roads have become unsafe._” They had mulled that over before leaving.

And now they were on the road, Thang Long a week behind them and Te Han a week ahead. The party had settled into a travel routine many days past, and spent their days riding and thinking. Tran chatted in an affiable sort of way, but Woo remained sullen and Vinh and Hien detached, both lost in whatever worlds they visited in their daydreams. They had passed miles of rice paddies and yam fields, and were now crossing fiefs full of small-grain wheat and cattle. Serfs toiled the land at the behest of noble masters, and the adventurers passed few other travelers on the way south. Those they did see were as heavily armed as they were, casting wary glances and cautious nods at the group. Slowly, the land rose higher from the sea, and the air became cooler at night and less humid at day. On the second week of their journey, traffic picked up along the road, and when they saw local farmers on the road to market, they knew the city was close. Finally, they spied Te Han in the distance.

The city crouched atop a wooded hill under the shadow of an imposing mountain. The mountain – Douc Xoung – was the elbow of the impressive southern range that stretched both east and north from Te Han, marking the borders of the empire. Te Han consisted of a small walled fortress surrounded by the city proper, which was itself walled and possessing narrow streets. Beyond the outer walls, small collections of buildings – not quite proper towns – hunched near the city’s three gates. A steady, if small, stream of traffic came and went through the largest of the gates, which happened to be at the end of the road the adventurers were on. At the northern base of the hill meandered a small river running west to east.

The party entered, made accommodations at a comfortable inn called The Jealous Serpent, and promptly reported to the Central Administration Building within the Governor’s walled fortress compound in the center of the city. Within minutes, they were promptly escorted to the office of the Chief of Police. 

Chief Yu was a short man in an impeccable uniform with an air of hurriedness about him. His desk was littered with documents, all neatly piled. On a stand in the corner lay a soldier’s kiem in a plain and unadorned scabbard. Beside it sat a tiny potted plant with white blossoms. When the functionary announced the party’s arrival, Chief Yu leapt from his desk and circled it to bow and welcome each person in the group. To Vinh, he looked as though he welcomed the respite from paperwork. “Hello, welcome to Te Han!” The stout policeman announced. “You are the experts from Thang Long, yes? I am pleased that you’ve finally arrived!”

“We were told that a local tax collector had gone missing, Chief. How can we help?” Vinh began diplomatically.

The Chief sighed. “Yes, the missing man is Nat Hung. He has collected the taxes on his route for many years, a loyal servant of the Emperor. As you can imagine, we are very concerned about him! He disappeared after collecting half the dues on his route!”

“Where was he last seen?” Vinh continued.

“It appears that after visiting Lo Xinh he headed into the highlands to our most distant villages of the province. There is a place up there,” he began to rummage around his desk, “a high mountain valley, called Phau Dong. Ah, here!” The Chief produced a long, rolled document, made room on his desk, and spread it out. It appeared to be a map of the province. “He went to Phau Dong valley and has not returned. We have not seen Nat Hung in six months, nor have we had contact with the residents of the valley in that time.”

“I see,” said Vinh. Woo and Tam studied the map. “Did you send another tax collector, or perhaps anyone to find Nat Hung?”

“There is more,” continued the Chief, nodding, “It gets worse. After we realized that Nat was quite late, we sent a rider along his route to look for him. Obviously, we wanted to find him, but there is also the Emperor’s money and what happened to it that we must consider.” 

“Of course,” interjected Lei wryly. 

“The rider we dispatched did not return either.” The policeman sighed. Mai and Hien exchanged looks. “Fearing that bandits could be troubling our province in light of what has been happening to the east, I sent a patrol of soldiers in force directly to Phau Dong to root out the criminals and discover the fates of the two missing men. Six weeks ago, a peasant from Min Cau found the patrol captain wandering the road down from the valley. He was naked, crazed, and raving about killer monkeys eating his men...”

Woo arched an eyebrow at that.


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## Welverin (Aug 16, 2002)

*Re: Session Three, Part One*



			
				ForceUser said:
			
		

> *"He was naked, crazed, and raving about killer monkeys eating his men...?*





*KILLER MONKEYS!* I can't wait! Everything's better with monkeys.

And here I was just going to give you a thinly disguised bump.

Welverin

ps What's with the work and home accounts why not just use one?


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## Warrior Poet (Aug 17, 2002)

Recently began reading your story hour and I think it is excellent!

Compliments to you and the players for a great narrative!

Thanks,

Warrior Poet


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## ForceUser@Home (Aug 17, 2002)

*Re: Re: Session Three, Part One*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *ps What's with the work and home accounts why not just use one? *




You know, when we moved to the new boards I couldn't figure out for the life of me how to use the same account from work and home. It seems that you need a single email address per account. Since I post frequently from two different computers, it appeared I needed two accounts. If you know a way I could log into a single account from both home and work, tell me! I would be a happy man 

Warrior Poet: Thanks for the kind words!

Update tomorrow!


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## Welverin (Aug 17, 2002)

*Re: Re: Re: Session Three, Part One*



			
				ForceUser@Home said:
			
		

> *
> 
> You know, when we moved to the new boards I couldn't figure out for the life of me how to use the same account from work and home. It seems that you need a single email address per account. Since I post frequently from two different computers, it appeared I needed two accounts. If you know a way I could log into a single account from both home and work, tell me! I would be a happy man *




You only need the email account to activate your board account, once you do that as long as you know your user name and password you can log on anywhere,

Bring on the killer monkeys!


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## Pelosan Emperor (Aug 18, 2002)

ForceUser -

I am blown away by this story!  Not only are the setting and the characters well done, but you're writing is top-notch!

I now have three Story Hours bookmarked:  PirateCat's, Sargio's, and yours.

I'm looking forward to the continuing adventures!

PE


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## ForceUser@Home (Aug 18, 2002)

*Session Three, Part Two*

*VINH BREATHED* deeply, relishing the crispness of the high mountain air. He shifted his kama-do from left hand to right and resisted the urge to lean on it only from long years of training. He glanced at Woo, whose posture spoke of impatience – the monk had never learned the finer points of diplomacy. With Hien’s assistance, Tam spoke to a fourth peasant in as many days, reconstructing the journey of the tax collector Nat Hung before he had disappeared into Phau Dong valley. It was soon plain that the man was not well liked. While by all accounts not a corrupt official, he nevertheless had demanded the Emperor’s dues with a punctuality and officiousness that had, over time, led to a general feeling of dread among the local villagers every year when he made his rounds. In short, the man had loved his job with an enthusiasm that grated on these simple folk who struggled every day to provide for their families. The best side of old Hung, the peasants joked, was his backside, because that meant you wouldn’t see him for another year. 

After thanking the old villager and moving on, the party conferred. “Nat Hung was a punctual and proper Imperial servant who was infamous for the fervor with which he did his job. It appears unlikely he’d run away with the money,” said Tam as he adjusted the reins of his horse. 

“It appears that way,” Vinh confirmed. “What about bandits?”

“It could be bandits,” injected Mai, “I’ve heard more stories of Fierce Wind. The locals say he has rallied many to his cause. They could be hiding in the valley.”

“I don’t think so,” replied Woo, “Doesn’t this Fierce Wind operate more to the east, near the coast? Besides, how could bandits drive that soldier insane?”

No one knew.

“So we go on, then, to the valley?” Lei asked. His big black war-horse snorted and champed at its bit. 

“Yes,” replied Tam, “We don’t think there is anything more the locals can tell us.” 

They purchased food from the next roadside village they encountered, confirmed the hand-drawn map Chief Yu had scribbled for them against the knowledge of the locals, and continued south and west, higher into the mountains. The air up here was cooler than in the lowland valley where Thang Long nestled, and the foliage was blazoned with the reds and oranges of autumn. Strange, colorful birds sang and darted across the sky in flocks, while a light drizzle of rain from the stone-gray clouds above announced the arrival of the rainy season. Mai huddled in her cloak away from the wet sky, which to her brought back memories of long, cold nights on the street. Woo lifted his face to the watery breeze, trying to trace the ebb and flow of his life force energy, and Hien simply sat on his horse in the rain and smiled, while the eagle Hiraki squawked in annoyance and rustled his wings. Twenty-eight hooves clomped ever upward and onward.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Four days after leaving behind the last settlement, amid intermittent light squalls of rain, the party crested a ridge of land and through the trees spied a rolling expanse of highland jungle sandwiched between imposing mountains on three sides. The fourth side – the side the adventurers now rode up and into – was a narrow wedge of passable land hemmed in between mountains on the north and south. Far on the other side of the valley, across the tree-lined expanse, the group could see green and brown fields rising up along the slopes of the western mountain wall. They paused to take in the scene; it was quite lovely. The road they had traveled here was now no more than an unused game trail, and it dipped sharply down on the other side of the ridge, disappearing into the gloom under the jungle canopy half a mile ahead and below. 

“He traveled this every year?” Tran asked, surprised. “Brave man. I wouldn’t enter that jungle alone.”

Without further conversation, Lei clucked and nudged his horse ahead. The others followed, carefully picking their way down the sodden slope. The trees stood as ancient, inviolate sentinels of nature, daring them to enter. Their gnarled branches overlapped and, in places, supported each other. In other places, they drooped low to the springy earth. Tiny animals and large insects scurried along their boughs, and colorful frogs crouched in nooks, croaking a unique counter-rhythm to the orchestra of cicadas and crickets that chimed their discordant songs. Hien peered into the Spirit World but saw nothing except a deeper gloom that left him with a vague sense of unease. Soon after entering the wood, some chose to dismount, for the trail had all but disappeared, and the low branches and encroaching ferns did little to facilitate progress. Lei drew his machete and kept the path clear as they moved further into the forest. It was slow going, and each person kept silent, as if they sensed that the trees would not welcome conversation. 

Hours later, Mai saw a monkey. It sported black fur with a white bottom, and a throat of white as well. The cat-sized creature shadowed the party, silently brachiating through the trees on their right. She pointed it out to the others. “Ahh,” said Hien, “A langur. We see them in the forests of my home. They are harmless.” The party stopped to examine the monkey from afar, and it sat high above, examining them back with luminous black eyes. After a few minutes of staring at the monkey, Woo cleared his throat. “Well…”

“Right,” said Tran. And on they went. The langur followed. 

As they continued on, Mai and Vinh (the two most sharp-eyed of the group) noticed more monkeys in the trees. Some were golden or brown, others black or white, both langurs and doucs*, and none appeared to be larger than a small dog. Some appeared to watch, others seemed disinterested, but they all generally followed the group, swinging high overhead, pausing only when a tasty morsel presented itself for consumption. The party now felt many little black eyes upon them. 

“Huh,” said Woo as they paused again. The little animals were a bit more animated now, and their cries echoed through the hollows under the leaves. Lei looked around with a scowl, and Mai glanced upward, puzzled. Tran, sweating, radiated nervousness. Vinh scanned the foliage under the trees on either side of the tiny path. There! Something large moved between the ferns upon the ridge to the left. “I see something,” The no-sheng announced, raising his voice. “Me too,” said Mai. She drew her _duan jian_**, and the sharp ring of steel reverberated off the trees. And then they saw it.

Perhaps it was an ape. Or perhaps a demon, swathed in an ape’s form and mimicking an ape’s gait. It shambled out of the ferns and bamboo, shaking rainwater off its fur and snorting like a bull. The ape-demon stood eight feet tall on its knuckles, with an orange-red coat and pitch-black skin. Tiny crimson eyes sat deep within its shadowed face, and large white incisors hung limp as the creature swiveled its massive head towards the party. 

It roared. 

The horses screamed and bucked in fear and confusion, and the party tried desperately to get them under control. The monkeys in the trees screeched deafeningly, and the adventurers yelled, adding their small noise to the anarchy of sound. The ape-demon beat its chest in fury and strode back and forth atop the ridge, claming dominance and challenging the newcomers. Lei shouted “Dismount! Dismount!” and dove off his war-horse, hitting the mud and rolling to his feet, longspear in hand. Vinh jumped nimbly off his steed and landed in the ready position, his kama-do poised to strike. Most of the others also dismounted as they could, although Tran firmly refused to get off his horse, terrified as it was. Hien wasn’t sure who was more frightened, horse or rider. Mai slunk to the right of the road, intending to hide in the trees. 

The ape charged. 

It thundered down the ridge, a guttural roar echoing in its wake. Its fangs glittered, and saliva trailed behind it as its powerful forearms dug for traction in the moist earth. The creature crashed towards the closest intruder: Long Lei. Fourteen hundred pounds of raging ape descended upon the one hundred sixty pound mercenary with death in its eyes. Lei whipped his longspear around desperately, planting it in the soil at his feet. He braced his legs, whispered a prayer to his ancestors and gritted his teeth, snarling as the demon bore down upon him. Somewhere behind him, someone yelled. Then the world went black and red. 

The ape crashed into Lei’s spear like a meteor from heaven. The point drove through its stomach, intestines, and right lung, finally exiting three inches right of its spine. A red explosion consumed Lei’s vision; blistering fire lanced up his arms. His legs buckled, and one knee collapsed, sinking deep into the mud as a hellish weight crushed him to the ground. His longspear bowed dangerously, so he released his grip and rolled aside, coming up on the ape-demon’s flank, already whipping his scimitar from its sheath. Warm, wet blood stung his eyes, blinding him. He felt numb all over, and was afraid the blood was his own. His ears rang, drowning him in silence. Panicking, he scrubbed his sleeve across his eyes so he could see.

The ape-demon stood before him, huffing softly and leaning on the bent shaft of his spear. Half the length of the weapon thrust out from the creature’s back, bright red and glistening in the dim light from above. A river of steaming blood ran down the ape’s spine, spurting out from the wound like a font. It groaned raggedly as it pawed at the spear, and blood mixed with the spittle foaming at its lips. The light in the creature’s eyes was now dull, and it cast its gaze around in confusion and anguish. To Lei, it no longer looked like a demon, but disturbingly like a person. 

And then Vinh’s polearm flashed, severing the ape’s head from its shoulders. The body stiffened and jerked, finally collapsing in the loam beside the road, kicking reflexively. Sticky, drying blood coated everything within a few feet of the corpse – including Lei. Distantly, he realized that the tiny monkeys in the trees were in an uproar, and seemed to be all around the party. Some of them had left the trees and strode angrily back and forth across the earth, as though mimicking their fallen champion. Lei staggered distractedly to the ape’s corpse and struggled to pull his spear from the body before it stuck forever. He heard the others shouting, but over the ringing in his ears he couldn’t discern their words. 

Finally, he wrested his spear out and stood up to examine himself. His entire form was splashed in drying ape blood. The tang of iron stank in his nose and mouth. Almost comically, he dug for a small rag that he could wipe the blood on. Woo smacked him with his _bang_*** and shouted.

“—hey—e com--ng! Be --eady!” said the monk.

_What?_ thought Lei. 

He looked up, and a horde of small furry forms leapt at them from the trees.




*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*



*A douc is a small arboreal monkey native to southeast Asia. It's pronounced "duke."
** A _duan jian_ is a Chinese short sword.
***A _bang_ is a Chinese quarterstaff, often made of bamboo.


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## Someone (Aug 18, 2002)

> The ape crashed into Lei’s spear like a meteor from heaven. The point drove through its stomach, intestines, and right lung, finally exiting three inches right of its spine. A red explosion consumed Lei’s vision; blistering fire lanced up his arms. His legs buckled, and one knee collapsed, sinking deep into the mud as a hellish weight crushed him to the ground




Great writing, and not only that part. 

That had to be a critical hit with a readied longspear, wasn´t it?


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## Vymair (Aug 18, 2002)

It was a readied spear but not a critical.  Lei rolled max damage so it was almost as good...

I definitely wasn't looking forward to fighting that ape up close


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## Kosh (Aug 19, 2002)

I just finished reading your story hour, and I must say that it is brilliant...

Everything is so detailed!  It amazes me how much I can visualize from your writing...

I see a natural green painted everywhere, from the bamboo, to the jungles, even in the cities...  You have truly left the impression of an ancient, untainted, wild land...

This is great...  Keep writing for the sake of me and all the other lurkers who share my point of view...


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## ForceUser (Aug 20, 2002)

Pelosan Emperor, Kosh, Someone - welcome aboard!


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## Piratecat (Aug 20, 2002)

Wow, apes are scary. Great update!


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## Rune (Aug 20, 2002)

Wow.  I just got around to reading this and I have to say, as far as I'm concerned, this story is tied with Black Omega's for best OA Story Hour out there (here)!

I'm impressed!

Also, I just want to say that you write excellent combats.  Although I used a similar line about stirges in one of my own stories 

Anyway, keep up the excellent work.

And please include some eunich sorcerors.  They're really under-used.

P.S.  Monkeys are funny.


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## Welverin (Aug 20, 2002)

*Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!*

Still no killer monkeys. Come on man I'm dying here. Ok so the killer ape thing was cool. As was the deafness bit.


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## Tonguez (Aug 20, 2002)

*Re: Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *Still no killer monkeys. Come on man I'm dying here.*




Must agree - and who is the Monkey Woman and just what is this curse?!

{S just to let you know that yours is the ONLY storyhour I'm reading atm (besides the Writers Circle)...


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## Sammael99 (Aug 20, 2002)

*Way to go !*

I have only read parts of the first session, and I'm hooked already. Bravo, as we say in my part of the world...

I'm keeping the rest for later, since my two favourite story hours are on hiatus or slow-going right now. I do believe I have a third favourite now...


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## ForceUser (Aug 21, 2002)

Thanks guys. Sammael99, your story hour looks fascinating, so I am totally bummed that I can't read french! Argh. 

We play in less that two weeks and I intend to bring the story hour current before then. As for eunich warlocks....well, that would be telling.


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## Sammael99 (Aug 21, 2002)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *Thanks guys. Sammael99, your story hour looks fascinating, so I am totally bummed that I can't read french! Argh.
> *




Isn't that a great opportunity to pick up a new language ? After all, it's only one skill point next time you level up as a GM ! 

Incidentally, that is more or less how I picked up English. I only had rudiments when I discovered basic D&D in 83. Only the red box basic set existed at the time, so all from then on was in English. I had to make do with a dictionary and a lot of interpretation. I remember the faces of my successive English teachers when I'd use words like "crimson", "hauberk", etc.


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## ForceUser (Aug 22, 2002)

*Session Three, Part Three*

*TERRIFIED, TRAN* whirled his horse around to meet the simian army that closed upon the huddled group. His right hand gripped his ivory-handled kiem sweatily as he struggled to control his mount with his left. The horse surged against the reins, maddened with fear at the heady scent of blood. Struggling, Tran faced the path they had hacked through the jungle and goggled in disbelief. 

Monkeys swarmed down from the trees like roaches. Little dark forms flickered through the high branches and across the low trunks to the muddy undergrowth. All around the adventurers, hundreds of cat-sized doucs and langurs converged, hurling feces and screeches with unheard-of fury. The sorcerer’s Hand protected themselves from the barrage of excrement as best they could, and Vinh strode across the path to make a stand against the closest group of primates. Woo stood opposite the horses from him, balancing on the balls of his feet, jiann in hand. 

Hien stepped forward and cast a spell. Warm green energy splashed away from him like water, and he raised his voice and spoke to a nearby trio of agitated monkeys. “*Little ones, what’s wrong?*” he began. 

“_Hate hate HATE hateHATEHATEHATE!!!_” they screeched at him shrilly. Taken aback, Hien stammered for a moment. “_Die die DIE die dieDIIIIIEEE!!!_” they continued. One stood erect and hurled waste at the shaman, hopped, and then charged. Like water from a breaking dam, the rest followed, shouting primal threats of death and pain in their monkey-tongue. 

The horde hopped, ran, and leapt toward the party in twos and threes. Vinh slew two as they tried to dart past his guard, and Hien brained another with his club, taking a bite on his forearm in the process. A golden-and-black douc darted up Lei’s leg to snap at his thigh, and Tam pressed his back against the horses, fending the frenzied animals off with his staff. Mai whirled and gutted one mid-leap, then dashed forward and skewered a red-tailed langur through the spine, pinning it to the earth. It writhed on the end of her blade before dying. Hysterical, Tran closed his eyes and slashed his longsword wildly, managing to sever the legs of a black-and-gray douc that had leapt for him. On his side of the fight, Woo calmly decapitated one, two, three monkeys. His jiann sang as it whistled through the air. 

In a crazed tide of fur and fangs, the monkey horde pressed on, scoring more bites on Hien and Tran. _Enough!_ though Tam. Stepping aside to let a brown langur savage his horse’s flank, he raised his arms and began to chant. He pointed at a particularly thick group of primates charging at the party, and a skull-sized ball of sickly green fire coalesced among them, pulsing like a dying heart. 

The monkeys twisted as though set aflame, then fled back into the trees, howling with dismay. Tam concentrated, and the *ghost light* swooped across the battlefield, scattering monkeys like leaves in the wind. By the third pass, none remained close enough to threaten the adventurers. Despite that, the animals seethed beyond the edge of the spell’s range, alternately charging and retreating, charging and retreating. The noise of their frustrated calls continued, but thankfully lessened at this distance.

Breathing through his mouth, Woo asked Tam, “How long can you keep that up?”

“As long as is needed,” the wu jen replied. He dipped the ghost light low, then soared the figment high, encircling the group within a protective patrol. The others could not look at it directly for more than a moment; when they did so, the gruesome, incorporeal heart caused them to quail involuntarily. _Who is this man, to command a nightmare?_ thought Woo. For his part, Tam’s eyes never left his macabre illusion. 

On his horse, Tran leaned over and vomited. 

“We go on,” declared Lei. He grabbed his machete and returned to the task of clearing the way ahead. Tam walked behind slowly, concentrating on maintaining his spell. The others, cloaked in grim expressions, focused on watching the monkey army that flanked them. From the trees, the monkeys kept pace with the group and watched back, spitting and howling in hatred. 

The day crept on into dusk, dusk gave way to dark, and still the strange procession continued through the gloomy jungle, soon lit only by a lonely, spiraling green light.


*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*


The adventurers broke through the tree line as dawn’s light burst across the horizon. They had spent the night slowly carving their way out of an unfamiliar jungle, hounded by evil monkeys, and fighting off skirmishes that stole past the wizard’s barrier of terror. Some time after the moon had set, however, the monkeys had abruptly and inexplicably dispersed. Not trusting this respite, then party had moved on, and Tam had maintained his vigil. Now exhausted, they gazed across the hard-won valley before them, squinting in the dazzle captured in the morning dew.

Phau Dong valley curved like a deep bowl and appeared to be dotted with small shrubs and copses of stunted trees. From southwest to northeast ran a glittering mountain stream that wound its way within a mile of the jungle’s edge. The trail they had followed all this while, more easily seen in the grasses beyond the forest, bisected the stream at this near point and connected to a sturdy wooden bridge. Beyond the bridge lay a sleepy thorp, nothing more than a collection of six oblong huts. Cook-fires billowed from four of them. Among the huts, the party could discern villagers walking about, and a large pen directly east of the community sat packed with livestock. Consulting their map, they determined that the thorp had to be Kim Phe, the nearer of the two villages depicted in the drawing. Cautiously, they began to plod down the path. 

Dying summer flowers welcomed them with fragrant pollens and thorny stems as they wended their way toward the bridge. Storm clouds drifted across half the sky, sending gentle mountain breezes that smelled of rain. Fiery skies shone through the clouds, promising a brilliant day, but the early sun still cast long shadows across the valley. 

As they approached the structure, Vinh spied figures waiting for them midway across. Four men, one of who carried a strung bow and a quiver of arrows. One of the men waved as they continued, and Vinh waved back. The other group waited patiently as the party closed, and newcomers and natives sized each other up. The man with the bow was by far the youngest; he appeared fit and strong as any of the sorcerer’s minions, and wore tanned leathers over cotton clothes. His face was young and broad, his head shaved in the common way young men wear their hair, and stuffed in his belt was a long, cruel dagger. Instead of sandals, he wore closed-toe boots. Beside him stood a shorter, middle-aged man wearing a simple peasant smock and carrying a carved staff with the head of a ram. He and the younger man looked similar enough that the party could conclude they were immediate family. The other two men were elderly, with balding head and wispy white beards. They squinted at the group sullenly. 

The middle-aged man, obviously the leader, smiled cautiously and spoke. “Welcome to Kim Phe. I am Trinh Xang Duc, and this is my son Trinh Huu Lap, and the elders Lanh So Hong and Lanh Li Quan. We are gladdened that more have won through the jungle. You have the look of fighters. Are you from Te Han?” 

“Yes,” replied Woo, “We have come to investigate the disappearance of a tax collector called Nat Hung.”

The elders looked at one another. “He is here with us,” said Duc, “unfortunately, his experience in the jungle has driven him mad.” The party looked relieved then frustrated.

“He rode here with the taxes of several other villages outside the valley,” said Lei, “Is that money here?”

“No, he arrived with nothing. My son found him on the south slope, and through the raving he discerned that Hung’s horse fled into the jungle while he escaped the monkey-spirits that attacked him.” The younger man, Lap, nodded. 

“Of course,” replied Lei, sardonically. 

Woo asked, “What do you know of these monkey spirits?”

The elders warded themselves with the sign of the evil eye. Duc sighed and faced Woo. “They are slaves to the will of their mistress, and she hates all life but that she controls. Her name is unknown to us, though we do know that she once lived in Phet Lo with a husband. She is a formidable spirit-talker, twisted by communion with terrible powers, and we all live under her curse. The curse of the Monkey Woman.”

“Great,” said Vinh.


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## ragboy (Aug 22, 2002)

*Woo hoo!* The curse of the Monkey Woman. Forceuser, this is the best story hour in the forum. The characterization is consistent both with the culture and the story. And the story is great. I'll be stealing your "fix up the inn for the emporer/king" hook for my campaign. Thanks for a great story so far! 

Ragboy


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## rackabello (Aug 23, 2002)

I must add my voice to the chorus praising your Story Hour, ForceUser.  The writing is is rich in detail, and the characterizations are excellent.  Even in some of my favorite story threads I can often hear the faint echo of dice rolling in the background and never quite lose the sense of the players IRL.  Not so here; the care you've taken with your writing lets the tale and its heroes shine through.  My compliments to you and your players.

In your background research did you have a chance to listen to any Vietnamese/Southeast Asian music?  If you are interested I'd be happy to compile a list of recommendations.


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## ForceUser (Aug 23, 2002)

rackabello said:
			
		

> *In your background research did you have a chance to listen to any Vietnamese/Southeast Asian music?  If you are interested I'd be happy to compile a list of recommendations. *



That would be fantastic! No, I didn't. I've been using the Morrowind soundtrack, which sounded surprisingly asian to me


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## Rune (Aug 23, 2002)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *
> That would be fantastic! No, I didn't. I've been using the Morrowind soundtrack, which sounded surprisingly asian to me  *




Do it!  Vietnamese music is very inspiring!  I've used some as a background for a party in my OA game before.


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## rackabello (Aug 27, 2002)

*Vietnamese music links*

Though I'm certainly no expert, here a few CDs of traditional Vietnamese music I can recommend.  Follow links for more information, and sometimes sound clips.  Unless, you and your group really enjoy Far Eastern music, these may be more suited to lending specific in-game atmosphere than for background music, but I hope you find them interesting.

Kim Sinh / *The Art of Kim Sinh*.  A musician in the _cai luong_ style, who sings and plays Vietnamese lutes and guitar.  A personal favorite, Sinh's music is almost bluesy at times, with a lot of sliding notes.  At once strange and oddly familiar. 
The Perfume River Traditional Ensemble / *Music from the Lost Kingdom: Hue*.  Ensemble music from the Vietnamese court, featuring lutes and zithers, reeds, vocals and percussion.   
*The Music of Vietnam*.  Available separately or as a three CD set, and covering both folk and classical music.  Superb liner notes as well.


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## ForceUser (Aug 27, 2002)

racakabello,

This is great stuff! Thank you! I'm looking forward to using some authentic music during sessions; Morrowind sounded "close enough" at the time since I was focused on all the other little details of putting a new campaign together. I had meant to get back to this one, but you've saved me some research 

Regarding an update, my players cautioned me against bringing the story current to prevent helpful readers from giving them any insight they didn't think of on their own. That hadn't occured to me, but it's probably wise! The story is almost current now, but I think I can squeeze in one more update before we play on Saturday!


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## Piratecat (Aug 27, 2002)

*Re: Rat Bastard DM?!?!*



			
				Hjorimir said:
			
		

> *I'm sure I have no idea what ForceUser is talking about. My campaign is filled with rainbows, sunny days, and super powerful magic items where the players are in true control of their own destiny! *




Yeah, I've tried this line too. No one believes me, either.


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## Sammael99 (Aug 28, 2002)

Olive said:
			
		

> *I really want to start a Chinese based campaign, with no japanese influence in it, so this is all a bit of an inspiration to me. Looking forward to the next episode! *




If you want Chinese, you really want to read the Judge Dee novers by Robert van Gulik. Not only do they wonderfully depict Tang China, but they alsu burst with good plot ideas. Nothing supernatural, of course, so that you'll have to add yourself 

Here's a few links I found on the subject : 

http://hjem.get2net.dk/bnielsen/gulik.html
http://www.ude.de/gulik/webpages.html

Also, check out http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/s...gulik&search-type=ss&bq=1/103-7373558-8360635

for titles !


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## Hjorimir (Aug 28, 2002)

*PirateCat*

That's my story and I'm sticking to it! (Is it my fault if my players are so terrified from my dungeon that they run out of there so fast they forget to loot treasure out of the end encounter?)


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## ForceUser (Aug 28, 2002)

*Re: PirateCat*



			
				Hjorimir said:
			
		

> *That's my story and I'm sticking to it! (Is it my fault if my players are so terrified from my dungeon that they run out of there so fast they forget to loot treasure out of the end encounter?) *



Bah, who needs a magical suit of full plate, banded mail, and a magical mace anyway?? We lived!


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## (contact) (Aug 28, 2002)

> To Lei, it no longer looked like a demon, but disturbingly like a person.




It's amazing how charitable your perceptions can become once you've run your enemy through with three feet of steel.



Great story Force User!  I'm looking forward to the updates!


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## ForceUser (Aug 29, 2002)

*Session Three, Part Four*

*SMOKE WISPED* past Mai’s face, stinging her eyes and causing them to water. The pig on the spit sizzled as the matrons turned it, and moisture dripped off the meat and evaporated, wafting up through the central smoke-hole in the communal hut. Children crowded around her, smiling and giggling, and the men of Kim Phe sat together on the other side of the fire, cross-legged on mats. In the corner behind them, a maiden sang a languid song of hope and deftly plucked a _dan day*_. 

Lei, Tam, and Woo sat with the village men, talking. Mai watched as they gestured with their hands, no doubt dramatizing the events of the last few days. The locals listened, interjecting occasionally, and painted with their hands a tale of their own. Mai wondered what that was. A little girl next to her, no older than three, grabbed her leaf hat and pulled, knocking it onto her face. Mai heard the girl’s mother scold her, but she just laughed and pulled the toddler into her lap. 

Then the setting sun shone in her eyes, dazzling her, as a figure threw back the flap of animal skin that served the hut as a door. Several figures tromped in, and after the curtain fell back into place, Mai saw four more men join their fellows – Trinh Xang Duc, the local leader, and her companions Hien, Vinh, and Tran. The aristocrat looked frustrated, and the shaman sad. Vinh squatted next to the fire and spoke to the others. Several men shook their heads at his words, and Lei snorted and picked dirt off the bottom of his sandals. Woo frowned. 

Hien looked around while Vinh spoke with the elders, spotted Mai, and sidled up to her, skirting the women who now carved roast pork from the pig’s carcass. “Nat Hung is beyond our help,” he began, “He has been cursed by this evil Monkey Woman into madness. Vinh spoke with him at length but we could find no trace of sanity. He raves and trembles at his own shadow.” He sat down beside her and crossed his legs. “The villagers say that the Monkey Woman allows no passage in or out of Phau Dong valley, and that her monkey servants patrol the hills and forests here in search of human prey. They have had to keep their flocks close to home, and they have armed the men. Food is plentiful for now, but they fear to tend their crops. The women are no longer allowed to forage for herbs and betelnuts. They are prisoners here.” 

Mai let him speak, but she’d already heard much of this from the women. Finally, she asked, “What will we do now?” 

“I don’t know,” the young man admitted, “I think we’re going to visit the other village tomorrow. Phet Lo. Xang Duc says we should speak to Pham Xi Quan, the shaman of that place. He was once married to this Monkey Woman, they say, and he warned Kim Phe that his wife had become a pawn of evil.”

“A pawn?” asked Mai.

“That’s how he portrayed her. Xang Duc isn’t sure what to think. He has reflected on the shaman’s words for many months and come to no conclusion.”

“Why didn’t they try to leave?”

“Some did. These people don’t know if they are alive or dead; those who left never returned or sent word of their safe passage. How could they?”

They sat in silence until supper was served.  

The next day, the party rose at dawn and prepared to leave. Lei groomed and saddled the horses while Woo and Vinh meditated, and Hien left the village for the stream, claiming he wanted solitude to pray for guidance and power. Mai spent the morning brushing her long black hair and washing her clothes. Tran spoke with the village elders at length while the younger men of Kim Phe armed themselves and prepared to let their herd of goats out to graze. Tam spent the early morning indoors preparing his spells. After half an hour, Tran and Xang Duc bowed, and the aristocrat walked to his horse. Behind him, Duc and his son Lap followed. Surprisingly, Lap wore a fitted jerkin of hide over mountaineer’s clothes, and carried his bow slung across his back and his dagger at his belt. 

“My son Lap will guide you to Phet Lo,” Duc said, “He is a _dang-ki**_, a skilled hunter and woodsman. He will show you the best path for your horses.”

Lap nodded at the group. For the first time, he spoke. His voice was soft and boyish, “The valley is rocky past here and the grass is poor. The journey to Phet Lo will be about two days. I will show you where to graze and where to ride.”

Vinh replied, “Thank you.” 

“We appreciate your hospitality, Xang Duc,” Tran exclaimed, bowing again and grasping his fists in front of him.

“You are most certainly welcome,” the man replied, “We hope that you can learn more about the Monkey Woman’s curse and lift it. I fear that were it not for our ancestors watching over us that she would already have killed us all.”

“We will do our best,” said Vinh. 


*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

The trip to Phet Lo took less than two days.  Lap was indeed a talented outdoorsman, and he steered the party clear of broken earth, sheer climbs, and hungry mountain cats. By late afternoon of the second day they came within sight of Phet Lo. 

Unlike Kim Phe, Phet Lo was walled. Twelve-foot tall wooden spikes encircled the tiny community, pointed outward. A lookout post rose above the walls by another five feet, and it appeared to be manned. Beyond that the group could see thatched roofs and a single curl of white smoke indicating a cook-fire. A large single gate stood out from the fort on this side. Nodding at the walls, Lap hitched his pack and turned away.

“I go no further.”

“Really?” asked Vinh, “Why not?”

“These people act strangely and are not warm-hearted. They do not seek friendship with my father's people. I do not speak to them.” He looked around at the others. “I want to tell you something. You are not the first fighters to come to the valley since the Monkey Woman took control.”

This surprised them.

The woodsman continued, “Another group like yours came here two months ago. They did not stay in our village, but went right to the mountains seeking something. I have not seen any of them since.” 

The group digested that information. Lap waved, they thanked him and said their farewells, and soon he was just a black speck moving rapidly down the valley slope. 

The adventurers approached Phet Lo. When they came within shouting distance of the walls, a gravelly voice shouted “Halt! Identify yourselves!” 

They did. The challenger was a man, short and muscular, who stood in the guard tower and devoured them with his eyes. He seemed neither young nor old, but he moved like a cat. He carried in his right hand a kama-do, Vinh’s weapon of choice. This man’s polearm, however, bespoke a proud heritage with carvings along its length, which was golden, and engravings on its curving blade, which was silver. Vinh wondered why such a man lived here.

“I see,” the man said, “And why have you come to Phet Lo?”

“We wish to speak with the shaman Pham Xi Quan to learn about the Monkey Woman.” Vinh announced. 

“Yes, he’s quite popular these days,” said the guard.

As they puzzled over that, the gate creaked and swung upward, revealing more denizens of the remote village, all of whom appraised the party frankly. One, an unusually tall woman, stepped forward and spoke. “I am Vo Thi Chao; I lead here. I will take you to him. Perhaps you are the ones he spoke of in his dreams.”


*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

*A _dan day_ is the Singer's Lute, a vietnamese string instrument used to accompany the A-Dao (professional singers). 
**A _dang-ki_, in my campaign, is a ranger. In the OA book it's a Chinese word meaning shaman. Since there is no Chinese word for ranger, I altered the meaning to suit my campaign.


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## Sammael99 (Aug 30, 2002)

Woohoo ! It's getting spicy ! 

Way to go, Force. Keep going, we want to read more !


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## ForceUser (Aug 30, 2002)

*Session Three, Part Five*

*XI QUAN* smiled weakly from his bed at the assembled strangers. He appeared ancient in the way that only the extremely old can. His hair was shock-white and long, and it fanned out behind him on his sleeping mat; his body was spotted from age and his skin sagged off his bones. His face displayed a withered road map of deep creases and wrinkles, and when he spoke the party had to remain completely still to hear his words. 

“So one has come…” he whispered as he weakly lifted his head. Although his body trembled, he held Hien in a steady gaze. “I am gladdened to see another Speaker within these walls…” Hien bowed his head in a gesture of reverence for his elder.

Thi Chao, the tall woman, spoke gently, “They have come seeking answers, Wise One. They wish to know of Thi Nhu.” “Ah,” he replied, then jerked as a wracking cough consumed him. Hien started forward, but Thi Chao shook her head. For several agonizing moments, the old shaman shook and hacked, and Hien could hear the fluid rattling in his lungs. Then it was over, and he settled back onto the mat with a sigh. Blood stained the corner of his lips as he continued softly, “My wife. Like you and I, she communes with the Spirit World. Her heart has always been free, and though she loved life with a rare vigor, she disdained to take counsel. I love you, she would say to me, but you do not rule my thoughts.” 

He paused and shuddered as he suppressed another fit of coughing. “She was fascinated with the way people sought the divine. She journeyed across Dai Viet, talking with great thinkers and monks. She studied the Buddha and the Tao, and even the teachings of Confucius. She debated these things with many people and the spirits of earth and sky.” He squirmed on his mat, and Thi Chao stepped forward to smooth a sheet under him that had bunched up. He nodded in thanks and continued. “She learned of a sect of Buddhism called Hinduism. The Hindu revere certain powerful spirits as gods, and believe that serving these spirits will bring great fortune and happiness in the next life.” Tam nodded, a worried line creasing his brow; he knew that the Cham people to the south, enemies of Dai Viet, were Hindus. 

“She discovered that up in the mountains here, near Phau Dong valley, lay an ancient monastery devoted to one such spirit, the monkey-god called Hanuman. So here we came and met the people of Phet Lo, who have been kind to us.” Thi Chao smiled at the shaman. “Following directions given to her by a wandering Siamese ascetic, we ascended through a gap in the mountains west of here. We spent many days braving the wilds of the old country, but at last found the monkey-god’s retreat.” 

The shaman’s eyes clouded, and the listeners looked away respectfully as he mastered his emotions. “I...I do not remember much more. I know we entered the monastery and found…a great room, an altar, with a large black stone upon it. Looking upon the stone weighed heavily on my mind and I became fearful, but Thi Nhu…she would not leave. We argued, but she approached the shrine and laid her hands upon it. Something happened then, I know not what, but I fell into nightmares and remember little else. I saw…I saw my wife holding the stone aloft, and her form was subsumed within another, darker one. I…I think I fled, or was forced away...or…I…” He choked back tears and began to shake; deep wrenching coughs intermingled with sobs. The party looked away again, embarrassed to have witnessed such private grief. After a long while the old man continued, “I do not know how I came to escape the monkey-god’s temple. I remember claws in my soul, and fighting an evil inside me. I remember falling at one point…down a hillside. I landed on a rock and it caused me much pain. I crawled...for some time, and felt a great void in my heart, for I knew my wife was gone, and the spirits had deserted me as well. I thought I had given them great offense, though I did not know how.” 

He struggled to raise his head, and Thi Chao folded the sheet in her hands and placed it behind his neck. “One of the villagers here, Tuyen, found me and carried me back to Phet Lo. This was…half a year past. I have been confined to this bed most of that time, too weak to even feed myself, though once Tuyen took me to Kim Phe to warn them of the great evil that possesses my wife. I was saddened to learn of the suffering that she has caused the people of this valley.” He coughed again.

As the adventurers looked at one another, the old man spoke once more. “I believe that if someone were to find her and separate her from the black stone, they would free her of her curse. They would free us all. I would…I would, but I am too frail now, too frail.”

“We will do it, old one,” swore Hien. He stood as he made his pledge.

The bed-ridden shaman whispered, “Perhaps. Perhaps. But beware, there are evil magics within the temple, and they have cursed me. I am not so elderly as I appear. I am thirty-five years old…”


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## Someone (Aug 30, 2002)

Spicy and creepy. Brrrrr...


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## ForceUser (Aug 30, 2002)

*Session Three, Part Six*

*”HE LOANED* me his staff,” said Hien. He and Woo admired the weapon. It was six feet long, made of varnished Banyan wood and carved with scenes of nature spirits protecting their domains from intruders. Atop the weapon, a carving of a great mountain spirit sat as though surveying everything below it. Hien hefted it; it was well balanced and solid. 

“The journey will be difficult for horses,” said Vo Thi Chao, “They will likely slow your progress, and could be injured by the uneven terrain. You can leave them with us if you wish.” Lei looked at the small stables in the compound. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” the woman replied, “We have handled such beasts before.”

Lei grunted and began to remove their packs from the horses, and Tran and Tam helped him, sorting their gear into piles and deciding what would remain and what they could carry on foot. Woo and Mai listened as Thi Chao gave directions to the gap, and discussed where the monastery was likely located. Hien led the now-barebacked equines to the stables, and Vinh looked at the walls and the buildings in the small compound. He surmised that it could house perhaps fifty people, though there seemed far less about. 

“You any good with that?” a voice behind him said. He turned and faced the guard they’d first met when they arrived. The man carried his masterful kama-do with easy confidence, and up close Vinh could see that his dark face was weathered from long years outdoors. A campaigner, perhaps. He gestured at Vinh’s own kama-do and spoke again, “Well?”

“I am trained in its use,” Vinh replied cautiously, “I studied at Han Bai.”

“Ah, White Crane!” said the warrior, “Good school! I am Tuyen.” He grinned and inclined his head slightly, a mildly rude gesture of acknowledgement indicating that he chose not to bow. Stiffly, Vinh leaned his kama-do against a wall and bowed properly, grasping his right fist in his left in front of him. “Han Vinh,” he replied. 

“Show me what you can do,” the older warrior continued, provocatively. He gestured at Vinh’s weapon for emphasis. “I’m not sure that is appropriate…” Vinh began. “Come on!” said Tuyen, “I want to see you fight!” He dropped into a ready stance and leveled his polearm at Vinh, grinning wider. Sighing, Vinh reached for his kama-do…

…and threw it in front of him in a cross-pattern, immediately on the defensive as the heavier Tuyen slammed his own weapon down with furious force! The ringing of the kama-dos startled everyone in the yard, and they turned to watch. 

They sparred. Tuyen led Vinh in a whirling blur of motion, as he struck again and again and again, hammering the young no-sheng back across the yard as he desperately tried to block each blow. The older man was incredibly swift, forcing Vinh to fight conservatively, keeping his weapon close to his body so he wouldn’t have to move as far to react. For his part, Tuyen worked Vinh’s defenses, attacking high, then low, reversing his direction of thrust unexpectedly. He left an opening on his right flank, and Vinh took it, surging forward. Tuyen’s last thrust had been wide, and his weapon too far from his exposed side to counter Vinh’s attack. But he deflected it anyway, switching his grip by choking up near the blade of his weapon and batting the thrust away with its heel, wielding his kama-do like a staff.

Vinh stopped, breathing hard and sweating, “How did you do that!? I have never seen the kama-do wielded that way! What style is that?” Tuyen stopped and stood. “You’re pretty good. Maybe one day I’ll teach you.” Then he grinned again, bowed properly, and walked away.

“Anyway,” continued Thi Chao to Lei and the others as she returned her gaze to the group, “There is more you need to be aware of. Another group of fighters came through here several months ago, asking questions about the area. They did not say what they were looking for, and they left soon after they arrived. We have not seen them since. Also,” and she paused to glance at each of them, “be aware that these mountains are very old. There are things up there that have existed since long before the time of Men. The mountains keep their counsel well, but we have learned some of their secrets. You must be wary of the Wang-liang.” 

“Who are the Wang-liang?” Woo asked. “They are giants,” she replied, “magical and terrible, and they hate Men with enduring passion. They were once the lords of the earth, but have fled to the far places for refuge as we have waxed and their people have waned. They harbor great anger for their lot.”

“Oh…not good,” said Tran. 

At the request of Thi Chao, they slept that night on the slopes out of sight of the fortified village. Disgruntled but polite, the party had collected what things they could carry and marched off into the night. “Why is it the horses get to stay inside, but we have to leave? And ‘out of sight’? Does the sight of us offend them?” Tran complained, shivering. “Get some sleep, master,” Lei replied, hunkering down into his bedroll. The wind howled down across the rocks and stubby vegetation, and a panorama of stars shone throughout the night.

The next day, they began their trek to the lost temple of the monkey-god.


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## (contact) (Sep 1, 2002)

I really like the characters of the old (young) spirit-talker, and his wife, the monkey-god's thrall.

(snatch)

That was the sound of me stealing that idea.


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## ForceUser (Sep 3, 2002)

Glad you liked it! 

What will the players find in the temple of the monkey-god? In a word, trouble. Stay tuned; we're getting to the good part.


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## Someone (Sep 3, 2002)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *Glad you liked it!
> 
> What will the players find in the temple of the monkey-god? In a word, trouble. *




Never mess with a monkey  

Less than that a monkey god.


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## ForceUser (Sep 4, 2002)

*Session Three, Part Seven*

*”WOW,” SAID* Tran, echoing the general sentiment among the adventurers. High in the mountains on their second day out from Phet Lo, they stood on a sparsely wooded slope amid waist-high grasses, staring at a massive ruin to the southwest. The mountainside they stood on sprawled far below, disappearing into a jungle-filled ravine only to rise again as part of other peaks farther west. Across the ravine, several miles distant, lay a mile-wide wedge-shaped gorge, and beyond that, the misty ruin of what must have once been a mighty city. Crumbling spires and alien minarets dotted the site, which evidenced much deterioration, even at this great distance. The jungle enshrouded the lower portions of the city, though a wall-like pattern could been seen encircling it. The portion of the city closest to the party appeared to have been swallowed up by the gorge, and in what had once – presumably – been the center of the ruin stood a towering spike of stone and marble, whose peak could only be glimpsed through occasional breaks in the clouds. “Wow,” whispered Tran again. Beside him, Tam nodded in agreement, lost in thought. 

“Whose city is this?” said Woo. Sensing a break in the torturous climb, he lowered his pack to the earth and began to massage his neck muscles. 

Everyone looked at Tam. The wu jen, old enough to be the father of any of the others, had proven to be more widely traveled than anyone had expected. When he failed to answer immediately, Lei grunted and sat down on a rock, digging into his pack for his waterskin. Mai glanced at Vinh, who squinted at the city, covering his eyes with his hand. She followed his gaze, homing in on the great central spire, glanced at him again, and began to study it. Tam nodded and whistled. “We do not know the origins of this place. Its architecture is unfamiliar to us, and we find it quite odd that such a city could have existed here. It is too far removed for commerce, and does not appear to have been built by any people we know.”

“I see something,” declared Vinh. He pointed at the distant spire. “Around the center tower…flyers. Several flying creatures…they appear to have wings like bats, but they are…much larger.”

“I see it too,” said Mai. Tam calculated sizes and distances in his head, and his eyes widened suddenly.

“Let’s move on,” suggested Lei as he hefted his pack. For once, Woo agreed with him. Nobody argued.

“We would like to come back one day to explore this city,” said the wu jen as they hustled up the slope. “Have fun,” Woo replied. 

That night they were attacked. Three monkeys, swollen to brutish size, rushed the group out of the darkness, only braying when they fell upon the groggy adventurers. Mai had been on watch, and had roused her comrades, who quickly leapt up half-asleep and scrambled for what weapons they could. Hien took a nasty bite on his hand, and Tam the wizard was also wounded, bitten on the foot. Mai, the only person wide-awake, exploded into action, a spinning dervish as she single-handedly slew two of the beasts before the others dispatched the third. “Is everyone okay?” Hien had asked afterward, ignoring his own wound. He called forth some minor healing spells and cleaned and dressed his and Tam’s injuries. The others examined the corpses of their foes. In the hasty torchlight, they discovered three black langurs of unusual size, with pronounced incisors and swollen chest cavities. “Abominations,” Hien declared, “Unnatural.” 

They moved camp and returned to sleep. The following day, they discovered a road. Ancient and weathered by time, the red bricks had shattered and the mortar had become riddled with weeds and grasses. What was left of the road meandered in the direction they were headed, so they followed it, convinced that they were closing on the forgotten monastery. It wandered up the mountainside at a favorable gradient, leading north along the western face. As the sun passed its zenith, Vinh, sweating, spotted something ahead. In a crease in the mountain’s slope, a bubble of total blackness clutched the mountainside like a cyst. It appeared to be several hundred yards across. He told the others, and soon they saw it too. Again, all eyes looked to Tam, and again he had no answers. “Powerful magic,” he nodded sagely. “You think?” exclaimed Woo, exasperated. 

As they continued, the slope flattened somewhat and they spied fallow fields on both sides of the road, which were in turn flanked by dense groups of trees. Ahead, the darkened region loomed close, perhaps two hundred paces away. Tightening their belts and loosening their weapons, the adventurers grimly marched on. 

Then they heard it. A rumbling, buzzing bass noise vibrated across the air, and as they closed, through their chests. “What’s that?” asked Tran fearfully. No one knew, but Woo was kind enough to whisper “Ssshh!” to the aristocrat, who winced. They crept down the road, feeling woefully exposed, drawing their weapons as they progressed. Eagle-eyed as ever, Vinh spotted the source of the noise first. Disbelieving his eyes, he nonetheless pointed and whispered “There” before returning his hand to firmly grip his kama-do. To the left of the road, about one hundred paces away, a gigantic hive of horse-sized wasps darted to and fro around a nest the size of a townhouse in Thang Long. It hung suspended in the tallest of the nearby trees, and the terrifying insects ambled in and out if it in a gross parody of normal-sized wasps. They were glossy black and brilliant yellow, their wings spanned twenty feet each, and their stingers mimicked shortspears. They did not appear to notice the party. Yet. 

“Go,” said Woo, “Slowly…go slowly toward the darkness.” He slipped forward and the others followed. If it occurred to anyone the irony of taking refuge from giant wasps within the cyst of darkness, they kept it to themselves.

They had moved about sixty paces when Lei groaned, startling the others. “Over there,” he pointed to their right. They looked and Woo swore. Emerging from the tree line on the right of the road, another giant wasp dipped and darted through the air on tremendous insect wings, perhaps eighty paces away. It moved erratically, as though searching for food, in their general direction. 

“Run!” shouted the monk, sending Tran into a panic. The broke and ran for all they were worth, the echo of the giant wasp at their backs. If the monster followed, no one looked behind to check. Their feet pounded on the uneven bricks of the path, and one by one, the darkness swallowed them whole. Tam, the last to arrive, dove inside and nearly vomited from exertion. He bent over double, holding his sides and attempting to regain his equilibrium. Strangely, the air in here was cool, and it was not utterly dark. He rose and breathed in wonder. Around him, the other adventurers did the same, exclaiming softly.

Within the cyst, night held sway. Constellations twinkled above, and the moon hung in its quarter phase. A cool evening wind rushed past them, and dead leaves rustled at their feet. Ahead, the road straightened and led to a three-story, arched façade recessed into a sheer cliff - the temple entrance. From within, they heard chilling, simian calls, distant screeches, hoots, and cackles. Dead trees flanked the entrance, and dead vines covered the façade, which appeared to depict strange scenes in relief.  Men in armor cavorted in battle, arrayed in formation, brutally killing their enemies. Tam took the carvings in, then glanced behind him, and started in surprise as he witnessed the outside world as a murky gray haze, diluted as though viewed through water. He blinked several times and shook his head, then walked forward and examined the sky as though searching for something. 

Minutes later, Woo interrupted Tam’s search. “Old man,” said the monk, “let’s go.” The wizard looked around him and saw his companions looking back, resolute. Except for Tran, of course. The nobleman looked more scared than anything. Tam nodded and fell in line behind the others, reviewing his readied spells. At the front of the line, Lei lit a torch and handed it to Vinh before moving on. Several others lit torches as well.

The façade fronted a large open-air foyer fully sixty feet wide that extended into blackness beyond the paltry light of the torches. A huge pit, twenty feet across, ran the length of opening, separating the foyer from the grounds outside. Mai briefly glanced below her, but the darkness extended beyond the torchlight. _Must be pretty deep_, she thought. The air smelled of mulch, mustiness, and rancid meat, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. Around them, hanging vines swathing the temple’s exterior swayed in the breeze. Glancing at one another for affirmation, they stepped forward across the bridge, Vinh and Lei leading the way. Hien brought up the rear. As Vinh reached the far side, he stepped forward and felt the stone under his foot depress. _Ka-shunk._ Before he could wonder the meaning of it, the bridge flipped violently, sending six shocked adventurers plummeting into the void below.


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## Sammael99 (Sep 5, 2002)

*Re: Session Three, Part Seven*



			
				ForceUser said:
			
		

> *Before he could wonder the meaning of it, the bridge flipped violently, sending six shocked adventurers plummeting into the void below. *




Talk about cliffhangers !

Great stuff, ForceUser. More ! MORE !  MORE !


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## Hjorimir (Sep 5, 2002)

*Can you say...*

SQUISH?


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## Piratecat (Sep 5, 2002)

Makes you wonder what's down there....  I mean, besides sharp pointy stones.    "I wish the ground were mushy and soft."


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## Vymair (Sep 5, 2002)

I've been playing with ForceUser and Hjorimir for about 2 years now and I have to say, this trap caught us totally off-guard.  The two of them tend not to use many traps in their dungeons, so this one was extremely effective....

From here on out, we went into full paranoia mode about any suspicious looking spot...


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## Someone (Sep 5, 2002)

So you survived.

SPOILER!


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## ForceUser (Sep 5, 2002)

Nope, they all died. Campaign over. He's talking about the characters in my new campaign. So, how did you like the OA story hour? Good ending, no?


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## Enkhidu (Sep 5, 2002)

Great googly-moogly ForceUser!

I took a look at this thread when it first began, and hadn't had a chance to keep up with it. Boy was that dumb, because now that I _have_ caught up I'm kicking myself for not doing so sooner.

This story hour is great (like Tony the Tiger "Grrrrreat!").

Keep up the good work!


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## ForceUser (Sep 9, 2002)

*Session Three, Part Eight*

*MAI FELL* in total darkness. She flailed as fulsome air whipped around her, arms and legs lashing out for purchase, for anything. She strained to see beyond the biting wind that brought painful tears, and failed. She plummeted into a great black hole, a maw of decrepit evil that swallowed her utterly. She knew, somehow, that the ground rushed up below; she knew each moment was prelude to her last. She screamed in terror, but the sound ripped away into the great rush of rancid wind around her. The unseen floor loomed, and with her final frantic thoughts, she remembered the smiling image of her parents. Then pain consumed her. 

She awoke with a start. 

_Only a dream,_ she reassured herself bleakly, _it was only a dream._ 

She lay in her bedroll on the damp, pungent soil at the bottom of the pit. Around her sat her companions, the ones who had survived the fall. Tran smiled from where he was sitting, one hand holding aloft a torch, the other cradling his guts as they sprawled out of his shattered torso. “Hello, Mai,” he said, “nice to see you made it too.” Woo, leaning against the far wall, turned and nodded in silent assent. He would have spoken, but the fall had caved in his skull, shattering his jaw. It hung half off his face, but he gazed at Mai with his remaining eye. It twinkled red in the ruddy light from Tran’s torch. Detachedly, she noted the gray matter scattered down the side of Woo’s now crescent-shaped head, piling on his shoulder. Hien, who had not fallen victim to the bridge trap, sat next to Vinh, tending his wound. A six-foot rusted polearm haft thrust from the no-sheng’s chest cavity, and Hien worked it out slowly, grunting with the effort as rusted steel ground against bone. Vinh didn’t seem to mind. He nodded at Mai reassuringly. “It’ll be okay,” he said to her, “I think we’re going to pull through. Poor Tam, though. I don’t know how we’re going to patch him up.” 

Mai looked where he gestured. The remains of the old wizard lay at the edge of the firelight in a misshapen mass of blood and gore. Gobbets of flesh radiated away from the pulverized corpse like a grisly corona. An eye, loose from the skull and lying atop the remains of a hand, swiveled and glanced at her. Revulsion swept over Mai then, and bile rose in her throat as she scrabbled back from the grotesque panorama of her fatally injured friends. She crawled into the corner behind her, overwhelmed with a fright so profound she could not vocalize it. Oblivious, her dead companions continued their mockery of movement, until Vinh, the spear now removed, shambled over to her and squatted. He reached out, grabbed her shoulder, and squeezed. “Mai,” he said, “we’re here for you.” 

She screamed. 

Hands covered her mouth then, and someone gripped her tightly. “Mai! Mai! Sshhh! It’s only a dream! Mai! Be calm!” She awoke. Tran held her in his arms, cradling her, and Woo’s hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her cries. The dark forms of her other companions loomed around her. Realization came then, of two days trapped in a fetid pit below a diabolical trap in a cursed temple amid forgotten, evil mountains. A reality as bad as her nightmares. 

“Be silent,” the monk whispered harshly, “they are close.” She saw him lift his head then, black against black, a faint silhouette. Forty feet above, the outline of the accursed bridge loomed against the night sky. 

Two days. 

Two days of perpetual night, in which they had bided their time in the corpse-ridden pit, receiving paltry blessings of healing from Hien's patron spirits, keeping torches unlit, eating cold, stale bread, hearing the calls of the evil monkeys above, and scanning the open roof for any sign of assault. But luck (such as it was) had been with them; the monkeys, ironically, seemed to fear the smell of death, and would not descend into the pit among the corpses of the long forgotten. They avoided the bridge as well, using the dead vines anchored to the façade to swing across the opening. 

The fall had been brutal. Tam broke both legs on impact, and Tran fractured his collarbone and skull on the hard earth. Both would have died had it not been for the quick ministrations of the others. Woo had rolled with some of the blow, like he had learned in school, but the fall was just too much; he broke a leg and ruptured something internally. Even now, he coughed up blood. Lei’s nose had bled for several hours, even after the spirits’ healing. Hien had finally had him lie back while he administered herbs that clotted the flow. _This is a potent plant,_ he had worried, _it could cause more harm than good._ Luckily, it hadn’t.

“Tomorrow,” said Hien, “I think we will be ready tomorrow. The spirits have restored us almost fully.” Hien wondered how Sca and Hirkai fared. The fox and the eagle would not approach the temple, and he was fairly certain they had fled the nightfall cyst as well. _Probably best,_ he sighed. They spent the rest of the day (they were fairly certain it was day) hacking up dried vines to use as torches. They had decided that they’d need many torches within the temple, far more than they had brought. 

Vinh had asked them if they wanted to go on. _What choice have we?_ Woo had replied, _We likely cannot escape Phau Dong valley as long as this Monkey Woman reigns. We must end this._ Grim logic, and no one had argued. 

After a final fitful night spent sleeping at the bottom of the pit, the party awoke and began to climb out. Woo scampered up the temple-side face like a spider, and to his chagrin, discovered a forty-foot long scaling ladder tucked behind a pillar in the massive foyer. He quickly maneuvered the ladder into the pit, and the others were up shortly afterward. 

“Torches,” called Lei, and they lit a small forest of ruddy orange flames. Tam retrieved a sunrod from his pack and struck it on the ground; an incandescent, merry glow sprung forth, momentarily blinding everyone. After three days in dank darkness, they took several minutes to readjust to the presence of light. 

Torch in hand, Mai cautiously approached the near side of the bridge and squatted to examine it. A pressure plate. So obvious. She sighed and pulled some tools out of her pack. Using an old rusted sword-blade she’d found in the pit below, she jammed the trigger mechanism. “I fixed it,” she called to the others, “the bridge won’t flip anymore.” Woo trotted over to examine her work. He looked, then grunted, “I’m still using the ladder to get back across when we leave.” 

Mai glanced at him. “Maybe I should keep an eye out for more of these traps,” she said. Woo stared at the rogue incredulously, and his jaw worked reflexively as he struggled for something to say. “Good idea!” he replied, injecting as much biting sarcasm as he could muster. Mai flinched. He waved his hand at her, exasperated, and trotted over to talk with Vinh. 

After a few more minutes, they began to explore the temple interior. The cavernous room they were in extended far beyond the glow of their torches, but they could discern that it was rectangular and multi-tiered, with a tall, vaulted ceiling supported by two rows of large, circular pillars. Depicted on the pillars were strange scenes – battles, weddings, and games of some sort. The people wore elaborate garb and stood in awkward, two-dimensional poses. 

“Gah,” said Tran. He smeared something onto the stone floor with his foot. Monkey dung. Fresh. 

They followed the left wall of the foyer until the night sky behind them disappeared. The calls of the monkeys from within sounded closer now, but the echoes in the room made it difficult to discern their point of origination. 

“There’s a ladder here,” announced Vinh, and they looked. Another scaling ladder stood propped against the near wall, ascending into darkness. “Let’s go up and have a look,“ said Woo. The others nodded, and Vinh replied, “I’ll hold the ladder. It doesn’t look sturdy.” The monk placed his torch in his mouth before deftly climbing the ladder. Forty feet up, he hopped onto a stone ledge. He shone the torch around and discovered that the pillars below supported it. Ten feet wide, it skirted the walls of the foyer. Beyond the edge it dropped to the floor four stories below. The air up here smelled of wet rot. He shouted down, “It’s a ledge. Appears to be clear.” Lei nodded and proceeded up after him, followed by Mai. 

When Mai arrived, Woo said, “There’s a ladder up here. Look.” 

Indeed there was. The ceiling of this upper level was surprisingly made of wood, not stone, suggesting another floor above with a wooden deck. At the edge of Woo's torchlight stood a sturdy wooden ladder bolted to the floor and ceiling. At the top of the ladder was a trapdoor. 

“Well?” said Woo, “Go check it out.”

Mai nodded and began to sweat.


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## Someone (Sep 9, 2002)

Man, each post is better than previous one! It took me ten minutes to pick my jaw from the table. Seriously.


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## ForceUser (Sep 16, 2002)

*Session Three, Part Nine*

*BELOW, VINH* tensed as the hairs rose on the back of his neck. Something lurked beyond the torchlight in the vaulted foyer. “Hien,” called the temple warrior, “hold the ladder.” The young shaman stepped forward and grasped it firmly. Sensing Vinh’s posture, Tran drew his sword. Tam took a step back and flexed his fingers. 

Shadows moved at the edge of the ruddy light. Vinh strode up and confirmed his guess: monkeys again, and aberrant ones at that. He dropped into the ready stance, his kama-do thrust out before him, in time to catch their screeching charge. Feeling the flow of energy around him, he relaxed his vision and extended his other senses. Forms darted around him, and he lashed out. There. There. There. There. The others watched in rapt appreciation as he twirled his polearm as though it weighed no more than a blade of grass. Four strokes, and four monkeys dropped dead. 

More yet came. Vinh stepped back, cleaving another as it tried to dart through his zone of control. Above, Lei, Woo and Mai heard the combat, and Lei peered over the ledge and spied the action below. Removing his chakram from his belt, he hefted it before letting it fly. The razor-sharp disc whizzed through the air, but the angle was bad and the target was small, so it hit the stone floor in a shower of sparks before rolling out of the circle of the torchlight. Lei grumbled. Woo turned to shimmy down the ladder, but stopped short as he saw a dog-sized rat scurry out of the darkness behind Mai. “Look out!” he shouted, drawing his jiann and dashing in front of the thief. Mai, for her part, reacted quickly, unsheathing her duan jian, twirling, and crouching in a defensive stance in a single fluid motion. Woo swung twice at the creature and missed. 

Below, Tam cast a spell. A familiar sound pulsed out, low and gruesome, and the incorporeal heart blazed in sickly green fire once again. The dozen or so monkeys now lit by its appalling glow fled in fear, and the wu jen gestured contemptuously, sending the figment blazing around the room in a broad swoop. 

One level up, Lei drew his scimitar and advanced on the dire rat. Before he could strike, it hissed at Woo and lashed out with yellow fangs, tearing a long gash in his robe. While the monk distracted it, Mai tumbled behind the vermin and jabbed hard, viciously sliding her sword to the hilt between its ribs. The rat convulsed and died. Woo arched an eyebrow at her, then jogged to the ladder and squatted next to the opening. He found Hien looking up at him. “They’re gone,” said the shaman. The monk nodded in return and stood. “There’s another ladder up here,” he called, “Appears to lead to a third floor. Climb up.” 

In short order the entire party stood on the second-floor landing. Tam concerned himself with maintaining his necromantic illusion, which the others pointedly ignored. Instead, they examined the ladder. It stood vertically between the second and (presumably) third levels. It was sturdy and functional, carved of solid pine, and secured to both the ceiling and floor with rugged iron bolts. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary about it after a cursory inspection, Mai began to climb. When she grabbed the last rung at the top, however, disaster struck. Instead of pulling herself up by the rung, the rung released and collapsed _downward_. The trigger mechanism sprung, Mai felt a horrible sinking in her gut as the false floor beneath the ladder gave way and girl, ladder, and flotsam plunged forty feet to the cold stone floor below. 

Devoid of conscious thought, Woo sprung forward in a desperate bid to save the hapless rogue, and cried out in frustration as her ao dai slipped through his fingers like silk. He watched as she impacted below with a clatter of wood and a sickening wet crunch. As the others stood frozen in shock, he ran to the opening and slid down the ladder. Landing with a grimace, the monk rushed to her side, slipping in the already-spreading pool of blood. 

Mai lay in a crumpled heap as her life oozed out in a puddle onto the temple flagstones. Woo cradled her, and felt a warm, soft stickiness on the back of her head. Moving swiftly, sweat rained from his brow as he violently tore a strip of cloth from his tattered robe and wrapped it around her head. He moved on to her leg, pushing a white bone fragment back under her skin, and pressed both palms on the awful injury, applying pressure. _You will not die. You will not die. You will not die,_ ran the mantra through his head. So focused was he on his task, he did not hear the clamber of steps behind him. But he felt a rush of…wind...energy..._something_ in his soul, as Hien called down the spirits’ healing upon Mai’s broken form. Bones knitted, wounds closed, and the pallor of death faded from her skin. 

Hien patted the monk on the shoulder. “Good work,” he said, “She may have died before I arrived had it not been for you.” Woo nodded, suddenly weary, and stood to distance himself from Mai, who was waking up. The others were looking at him, but he refused to meet their gazes. 

Mai opened her eyes and discovered that she was lying in her own blood. Panicking, she sat up and hugged herself. Hien knelt beside her, with the others arrayed behind him, guarding their backs. “You’re okay now,” he said, “the spirits have healed you.” Relief came with understanding, and she stood. Something wrapped around her head, and she took it off to examine it. A strip of blue cloth. She noticed a jagged tear in Woo’s robe. “You should be more careful,” huffed the monk as he walked back toward the ladder. As he left the circle of light, he railed against the darkness, “Who would _build_ such a thing?!” Echoes were his only reply.

Vinh watched his friend walk away, then turned to Mai, “In the future, take all the time you need to search for booby traps. We’re in no hurry. We don’t need to fall victim to these devices anymore.” He squeezed her shoulder warmly – a jarringly familiar gesture from her troubled dreams – and walked over to join Woo. Despite her miraculous recovery, Mai felt dizzy and ill. Her head swam with her recent near-sojourn into the afterlife. Hien, solicitous as ever, stayed with her as they made their way back upstairs. Lei paused to retrieve his chakram, and so was the last person back up the ladder. 

Twenty minutes later, after having pored obsessively over the trapdoor, Mai nervously declared it free of any further devices, and Woo, propping up the forty-foot ladder they used to climb to this level, scaled it like a squirrel and wriggled into the chamber above the door.

It turned out to be a small storeroom. After rifling through it for several minutes, Woo discovered a magnificent crossbow of archaic and alien design, as well as seven loose bolts. He climbed back down and showed it to the others before handing it to Mai. 

“Here,” he said gruffly, “you’ve earned it.”


----------



## Pelosan Emperor (Sep 17, 2002)

*Re: Session Three, Part Nine*



			
				ForceUser said:
			
		

> *Shadows moved at the edge of the ruddy light. Vinh strode up and confirmed his guess: monkeys again, and aberrant ones at that. He dropped into the ready stance, his kama-do thrust out before him, in time to catch their screeching charge. Feeling the flow of energy around him, he relaxed his vision and extended his other senses. Forms darted around him, and he lashed out. There. There. There. There. The others watched in rapt appreciation as he twirled his polearm as though it weighed no more than a blade of grass. Four strokes, and four monkeys dropped dead. *




This is the best description of multiple attacks from Combat Reflexes!  As always, your descriptions are vivid enough that I can actually see the action!

Have you considered writing professionally?


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## ForceUser (Sep 17, 2002)

*Re: Re: Session Three, Part Nine*



			
				Pelosan Emperor said:
			
		

> *Have you considered writing professionally? *



Not really. I'm good at describing things but I'm not very imaginative when it comes to plotting. Tell you what, though; if you can get Sepulchrave to write a novel, I'll write one too!


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## Sammael99 (Sep 17, 2002)

Great stuff, ForceUser !

Maybe I'll look for a job in San Diego...


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## ForceUser (Sep 17, 2002)

Sammael99 said:
			
		

> *Great stuff, ForceUser !
> 
> Maybe I'll look for a job in San Diego...
> 
> *



I don't know how it stacks up to Gay Parie, but I've only met one person who disliked it here, and he's a nut anyway! 








On a more sober note: traps don't kill rogues. Rogues who forget to take 20 on Search checks kill rogues. This has been a public service announcement. Thank you.


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## Sammael99 (Sep 17, 2002)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *I don't know how it stacks up to Gay Parie, but I've only met one person who disliked it here, and he's a nut anyway!
> *




I actually lived in San Diego, but I was 2, so my memories are kind of vague (a long driveway, a sledge in the christmas snow, and evil neighbour kid...)



> *
> On a more sober note: traps don't kill rogues. Rogues who forget to take 20 on Search checks kill rogues. This has been a public service announcement. Thank you. *




Maybe I'll send that one to the rogue in our party...


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## threshel (Sep 19, 2002)

Fantastic!  Awesome!  Outrageously good!

I... I...

I'm out of words for it.

 

J


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## ForceUser (Sep 19, 2002)

*Session Three, Part Ten*

*TRAN WHISPERED,* “Well?”

“It doesn’t _appear_ to be trapped,” declared Mai. 

“Is it or isn’t it?” pressed Lei.

Mai paused, “It’s…its not.” 

Vinh nodded in the dim light of the torches. “Okay. Step back, then.”

“Not yet,” she replied, “It’s locked.” 

The adventurers stood in a short stone hallway that branched off the arching foyer. The hall ran about twenty feet and ended in a rusty ironbound door. After a brief search of the second floor landing that had yielded nothing of interest, the party had climbed down and continued exploring the large chamber. They found a narrow hallway in the corner near the ladder, a wide hall in the center of the foyer’s back wall, and this corridor opposite the first hallway. Mai had spent several minutes examining the door they’d found at the end of it, careful positioning her torch to shine light into the cracks around the doorjamb. It had proven solid – too solid for anyone but a master trapmaker to have tampered with. Recalling the flipping bridge of death and the trick ladder, this insight did not comfort her. For their part, the others did not complain about her extreme attention to detail. Tran and Hien whispered quietly to one another, but Tam remained silent as he hung to the back and covered the party’s rear with his _ghost light_.

Glancing at the lock, Mai produced a six-inch whip-thin strip of steel, hooked at one end and serrated at the other. Pondering for a moment, she chose the hooked end and crouched in front of the door. Blowing an errant strand of hair from her eyes, she inserted the pick and methodically probed the locking mechanism. Lei held a torch for her while she worked. Minutes later, her patient effort was rewarded with an audible _clack_ as the lock released. Standing up, Mai stretched her legs before weaving her way back along the narrow corridor past her more stout companions. 

Lei had been in front behind the rogue, and with an affirming nod at Vinh, he stepped up and pulled on the door’s iron ring. Rusted shut with age, it barely budged. Bracing himself, the mercenary tugged harder. Vinh, for his part, covered the fighter with his kama-do. With noisy reluctance, the elderly portal ground open, revealing another short hall that ended in another ironbound door, this one at the bottom of a five-foot step down. Lei entered, waving his torch in front of him while holding his spear at the ready. Determining the corridor was empty, he called the others forward. Mai came up and examined the second door, and after several minutes of study determined that it was free of both traps and locks. Again, the others held back while Lei braced himself and yanked open the door. This one swung out more easily, unveiling a bizarre bamboo-floored chamber beyond. 

Holding his torch aloft, Lei wondered at the strange design. The room’s “floor” was a thick bamboo latticework tied together with strips of cured leather in a crosshatch pattern. The bamboo poles were unusually thick; perhaps eight inches in circumference, and the holes in the lattice were all roughly four inches across. A crude construction such as that used in scaffolding, but very sturdy. Lei stuck a foot out and tested it. Springy, but not much. The bamboo lattice covered all of the room’s visible floor space in the torchlight, and seemed to cover some sort of lower chamber or pit. Above, the ceiling disappeared beyond the flames, and the walls curved away from the portal in a way that suggested the room was circular. 

“Weird,” said Lei. Vinh and Woo, who were also close enough to see into the room, agreed. “Tam!” called the monk, “Come look at this.” From behind, the wu jen exclaimed, “Everyone get out of the way; we are bringing our ghost light with us.” Grumbling, the party backed out into the foyer so they could avoid being caught in the radius of the frightful illusion. Satisfied, Tam trudged forward with his spell gliding ahead of him. He thrust it into the room, illuminating what was previously unseen.

The chamber was, in fact, circular, and the ceiling was domed and made of rough stone. Below the bamboo lattice, two wooden walkways hugged the walls, with ladders leading down to a dirt floor twenty feet under the bamboo. In the center of the dirt floor lay an open pit roughly ten feet across. On the floor of the far wall sat a closed bamboo gate. Beyond the gate lay the dark maw of a cave. Atop the walkway below on Tam’s left stood a large double door. Above those double doors sat a closed trapdoor in the lattice, with a short ladder leading down. Peering closely, Tam noted what appeared to be large bones in the pit. 

“This was some sort of arena,” he declared. “We see a double door over there under a ladder.” He pointed, then made room for the others to look. Something crept upon the domed ceiling above, but the wizard had failed to notice. 

“Go down or go back?” asked Vinh. “We could check the other passages.”

“Let’s see what lies behind those doors,” said Woo, “This place held significance for whoever lived here.”

No one objected, so the party crept forward. Vinh, Lei, and Woo went first, carefully stepping across the lattice to the trapdoor. Bound only by simple leather, they called Mai over anyway to inspect it for hidden threats. After two minutes, she declared it trap-free, so they cut the cord and swung it open. The nimble monk was the first down, landing with a creaky thud on the dubious walkway. He stepped out of the way and drew his jiann while he waited for the rest to descend. Lei came down next, followed by Vinh and Mai, and then Hien and Tam. Tran started down the ladder last, moving awkwardly in his masterwork chain mail. He landed with a grimace, but smiled at Mai gamely. 

As he began to step away from the ladder, a cigar-shaped form dropped from the ceiling and dove like a torpedo through the opening of the trapdoor. Tran looked up, but before a reaction could register on his face, darkness exploded from the creature’s body, and an inky cloud of utter black fell upon the rear portion of the party. 

Tran began to scream. 

Caught momentarily off-guard, the others stood flat-footed in surprise. Tam stumbled blindly backward, erupting out of the oily darkness and coughing as he pressed his back to a wall. Above, his ghost light wavered, and he hastily redoubled his concentration. 

Noises clashed out of the darkness. Crunching sounds, followed by screams, followed by the jarring noise of metal against wood. Something in the darkness slurped. Shaking off his horror, Woo plunged into the inky area and swung his jiann toward where he heard the sound of combat. Finding only air, he retreated, torn by conflict: press the attack and possibly injure his companions, or stand his ground and do nothing? He despaired. Vinh moved in next, chipping his kama-do’s blade on stone walls as he futilely tried to engage the unseen assailant. Lei hefted his spear, then dropped it and drew his scimitar. He paused, then started forward, then paused again. Indecision wracked his face. 

From within, something jangled and fell heavily to the floor. Those nearby felt a _whoosh_ of air, and then more horrific crunching noises. Simultaneously, Hien began to scream – a howl of utter, animal pain. Crying out, Woo dashed back into the inky darkness. He closed his eyes and tried to remember Sitaigung’s lessons. _The water is calm. Ripples still the surface. Feel the energy of utter stillness._ He blocked out the thought of his dying friends, their screams, the noise of panicked adventurers around him, and concentrated on his arm, his sword, and his target.

Guided by _ch’i_, he struck true. 

His weapon penetrated a bony carapace before sinking into soft flesh. He jabbed a second time and missed. Outside, Vinh moved in and swung again, and his kama-do bit deep this time, driving whatever it was to the floor in a pulpy pile. They heard the thump of another body falling over at their feet. Thinking quickly, Tam dismissed his spell and plunged into the darkness, groping around for his friends. He found one, metallic and heavy. Tran. Gripping the noble’s feet, he dragged him out into the torchlight. Woo and Vinh bent down and felt for Hien, quickly finding him and dragging him out as well. 

Separated by the unnatural cloud of inky air, the adventurers worked fervently to save their companions. Hien, who wore no armor, had fared badly. His breastbone had been gouged and shattered by some wicked implement, and his breath came shallow and rapid. He bled from deep slashes as though he had been clawed from behind. Blood and other fluids rattled in his lungs, and gushed from his mouth as he convulsed. His left leg jerked uncontrollably, and his hands clawed at Woo’s robe. Woo, Lei, and Vinh called upon their lay knowledge of the healing arts to try and save their friend. 

“No, hold it there!” cried Lei, “You have to stop the bleeding!”

“Get his herbs! Where are his herbs?” said Vinh as he dug through Hien’s pouches.

“Hien, stay here! Stay here! Vinh, hold his head! Give me that cloth! No, the other one!” Woo yelled. The three warriors worked desperately to staunch the flow of blood. Mai stood quietly aside and watched, worry plain on her face. 

“Help us!” they heard from across the darkness. Mai scrambled through and saw Tam bent over the aristocrat’s savaged form. Blood lay everywhere around the wizard, on his clothes, in his hair, all over the walls and floor. Tam pressed a wet, red wad of cloth – the wu jen’s jacket – over Tran’s chest. The noble did not move. Not knowing what else to do, Mai ran to Tam’s side and grabbed the bloody cloth as well, pressing hard. 

Vinh had found Hien’s clotting herbs, and he now sprinkled them liberally over every wound he could see. Within seconds, the shaman stopped convulsing and lay still. “Give me that!” said Woo as he swiped the pouch from Vinh. He rocketed through the room and over to Tran’s side. “Move!” he blustered desperately at the others, and they jumped back. Woo tore aside the blood-soaked jacket and gagged as he looked at Tran’s injury. The noble’s chain hauberk had been chewed apart and his breastbone devoured. A gaping six inch hole lay in his chest, and with sickness welling up in his stomach, Woo noted he could see the noble’s internal organs, partially eaten. He upended the bag of herbs anyway, and cried out in dismay as scant particles wafted out to settle in the wound. They had used them all on Hien.

Woo began to disrobe frantically, then locked eyes with the wu jen. Tam held his gaze for only a few seconds, but to Woo it seemed like an eternity. Time slowed to a crawl, and the monk sat back and hung his head. The three of them sat beside their friend until the others arrived to take in the grisly scene. As Lei began to shake his head in dismay, Tam looked at Vinh and spoke.

“Tran is dead.”


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## Vymair (Sep 19, 2002)

Poor Tran, he had come to the Imperial City with hopes of an administrator's life.  In his months with us, he was happiest during the cleanup of the Golden Dragon after the battles against the Nezumi, for administration was truly his calling and his gift.  For some reason unfathomable to Vinh, Tran's path in life was led away from the that which brought him happiness to die in fear in a remote temple to a creature of darkness.   

After their current circumstances are resolved and Tran has been properly laid to rest, Vinh plans to return to the monastery for a period of meditation and contemplation on the mysteries of the Tao.


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## Sniktch (Sep 20, 2002)

> *On a more sober note: traps don't kill rogues. Rogues who forget to take 20 on Search checks kill rogues. This has been a public service announcement. Thank you. *




That is assuming the rogue has time to take a 20 on a search check.  When you have to get through that locked door before the angry basilisk catches you, for example, taking that 20 just isn't an option.


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## Citizen Mane (Sep 22, 2002)

*Re: Session Three, Part Ten*

Nice stuff, ForceUser.  I just read the whole thing in one sitting and I'm wicked impressed.  How long has this group been playing together?  They seem to be really in tune with each other, which has certainly staved off major disasters for them.  Well, except for Tran (poor Tran), but they probably couldn't have helped him and Hien both without possibly losing both of them.  

Anyhow, very cool, to be sure.

Best,
tKL


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## ForceUser (Sep 22, 2002)

*Re: Re: Session Three, Part Ten*



			
				Kajamba Lion said:
			
		

> *How long has this group been playing together?  They seem to be really in tune with each other, which has certainly staved off major disasters for them.  Well, except for Tran (poor Tran), but they probably couldn't have helped him and Hien both without possibly losing both of them.
> 
> Anyhow, very cool, to be sure.
> 
> ...



Most members of the current group have gamed together for anywhere from two to seven years, although Vinh's players (Vymair) and Woo's player (Hjorimir) have gamed together since I was in grade school! The group is tough to challenge since most of the players have a keen understanding of 3E feats, skills, spells, tactics, and how to use them together to maximum effect. Because of this, I've told them frankly that the kid gloves are off. I don't flub die rolls behind the screen and I don't pull any punches with regards to what the monsters may do (but I do make an effort to roleplay those monsters correctly). 

As for Tran and Hien, what an awful night of bad luck for the player group! First they got dumped in a pit, nearly killing several party members and plunging almost all of them to single digit hit points. Then Mai nearly fell to her death _again_ on the ladder trap, then they got punked by one measley 1 HD Darkmantle. The thing that killed Tran and nearly killed Hien had 9 hit points! Adding insult to injury, neither Tran nor Hien made a single stabilization roll, and nobody left standing had any points in the Heal skill! Luckily, you can use it untrained, so those guys were rolling their Wis modifiers against a DC 15 every round. Hien they finally managed to save (after a snafu where we though he was dead at first), but Tran just....ran out of time. You should have seen the shock on their faces. It was a very, very bad night for the PCs.

Of course, the following session, they kicked ass. Karma is cool that way.


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## Warrior Poet (Sep 24, 2002)

This is one of the story hours for which I check back regularly, hoping for more.  Compliments again to you and your group of players.  What a great story, with a setting you have realized marvelously!

Alas, for Tran, but such is the stuff of all good stories!

Thanks again!

Warrior Poet


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## Kosh (Sep 24, 2002)

Did Tran have a player, or was he an NPC?...


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## Vymair (Sep 24, 2002)

Tran was an NPC.


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## ForceUser (Sep 24, 2002)

It's ironic that Tran was the first casualty, being an NPC. When the PCs entered the room, I had them place their minis where the characters were supposed to be standing....and they just happened to place Tran at the worst possible spot, right under the trapdoor. Ooookkay, I was thinking. This is going to be funny. Nobody laughed though


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## threshel (Sep 26, 2002)

*Page two?  This will not do.*

Bump.

 

J


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## Corwyn (Sep 26, 2002)

Poor Tran  

What will happen to the PC's now that they have lost their link with nobility?
What I mean is that in your campaign the difference between the casts are very clear and thus their interaction outside of their respective casts, mainly towards the nobility, will be seriously hampered by this blow.


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## ForceUser (Sep 26, 2002)

hehe I'm getting bumps now 

Regarding links to the nobility, the players are still under the direction of Yao Ren Phai, who acts with the authority of the Emperor. They have actually interacted with few members of the shih caste at this point with the exception of Tran himself. Tran did a lot of the behind-the-scenes work involving money, passports and such, so those things may come to the forefront for the PCs to fret over if they ever make it out of Phau Dong valley alive. 

Oh, disregard that last comment. I'm meta-DMing.


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## ForceUser (Sep 27, 2002)

*Session Four, Part One*



```
[size=3]Your funeral cries just hurt our ears.
Stop wailing or you’ll shame the rivers
	and hills.

Let me advise you on your tears;
if you’ve got weak blood, don’t eat rich
	food.

- Ho Xuan Huong, “Consoling a Young Widow”[/size]
```

*HIEN AWOKE* to the sound of a gurgling stream. He blinked his eyes, reflexively tried to rub them, and found that he could not move his arm. His chest throbbed with dull fire and the rest of his body ached as though it were one massive bruise. He tried to turn his head, failed, and grimaced as he tried again. A sharp pain lanced up his neck and he opened his mouth in a wordless cry; his parched throat made no sound. The sun dazzled him, and he shut his eyes against it. 

Frustrated, he tried to sort through jumbled memories as he lay prone and unable to move. Valley. Mountain. Temple. Monkey god. Pit, ladder, fight. Strange room…floor of bamboo. 

Darkness. Screams. Pain. Agonizing pain, something eating him alive. Arms constricting him…no. Not arms, tentacles. Strong, rubbery tentacles. Something heavy weighing him down, something hard and sharp gnawing through his chest. His chest…

Hien saw the light of the sun shining under his eyelids, and felt its warmth along his front. Relaxing in meditation, he realized that he was outside, lying on a bed of leaves or grass, and restrained by rope or cord around the arms and legs. He sighed, then felt a cold nose touching his face.

He opened his eyes and Sca began to lick him. The fox licked his eyeball, his cheek, his nose. Hien felt the slimy wet tongue flick into his nostril, and he laughed weakly, squirming helplessly in an effort to avoid the ticklish sensation. Sca licked on, oblivious, and Hien giggled and tried to move his head in a vain effort to deflect the brunt of the fox’s ministrations. He turned to the other side and forgot his companion as he took in the scene arrayed around him.

A sloppy camp splayed along a mountain slope. Vines and severed tree branches lay scattered about, and in the center a circle of ash indicated a former cook fire. His companions sat disconsolate and apart from one another, some lost in thought, others digging through piles of uprooted weeds, and one person – Vinh – standing vigil farther up the mountainside. Behind Lei, Tran lay on a makeshift litter. Dried blood caked his pale face, and he lay unnaturally still. 

Lei sat on a rock and trimmed a long branch with a hunting knife. He faced Hien but appeared absorbed in his task. Too weak to raise his head, the shaman tried to speak but lacked the strength. Sweat beaded on his brow as he struggled. 

It was then that Hiraki, the red eagle, swooped down from the sky and alighted on Hien’s stomach. The eagle beat his wings and cried defiantly to heaven, startling the others from their reveries. 

“Hien!” exclaimed Mai. “He’s awake!” 

“Hien!” echoed a chorus of voices as people sprung up and raced to crowd around him. “How are you?” asked Woo. “How do you feel?” asked Vinh. 
“I…need the spirits’ healing,” replied the shaman, “I fear I have been gravely injured.”

“Yes!” said Vinh. He unraveled the crude ropes holding him in the litter, and the no-sheng and the monk helped him rise to his feet. Mai produced Xi Quan’s staff, and Hien accepted it gratefully. Leaning on the carved Banyan wood, he raised his free hand and invoked the spirits’ blessings. A ghostly wind rose from the ground at his feet, encircling him, causing his hair and garments to whip about as though caught in a storm. Sparkles of blue light swarmed up next, seeping into his wounds and closing them. Color returned to his face, and the knawing pain in his chest subsided to a distant ache. He repeated the process then sat down. “I am drained,” he announced, “Drained, but well enough to travel. I will invoke more blessings of health tomorrow. How…how fares Tran?” He knew the answer.

In response, the others looked away. Some looked at their sandals, others at the distant hills, but none met his gaze. “He has joined his ancestors,” said Woo finally. Hien nodded sadly and placed his hand on Sca’s head as the fox laid it in his lap.

They discussed various ways to preserve Tran’s remains, and argued over what do with them. Lei favored returning the body to the Nguyen family, and Woo argued that they should bury him here in the mountains because they had no way to preserve him for the journey to his home province. In the end they decided to arrest the body’s decline as they could with what herbs Hien could scrounge here on the mountainside and to inquire with the villagers in Phet Lo for further accommodations.  

Three days later they arrived at Phet Lo. The villagers took them in, drew them baths, fed them and washed their clothes. A married couple in the village turned out to have had some training in embalming techniques, and with the party’s permission secluded Tran’s remains away and prepared for the procedure. Vo Thi Chao visited the group, indicating that Xi Quan wished to see Hien again, so the younger shaman paid the older a visit. When he returned he bore a _potion of cure moderate wounds_, a _talisman of sanctuary_, and a _talisman of cure light wounds_. Grateful for the further gifts, the party doled them out to who they felt needed them the most – Vinh and Lei got the items of healing, and Hien was given the _talisman of sanctuary_. After some discussions concerning provisioning, they agreed to rest for several days while the locals made them some trail foods. As before, the villagers asked the adventurers to set camp out of sight of the settlement. No one complained. 

On the second night, Woo stood watch under the stars. The moon hung in its quarter phase, but the evening sky blazed with pinpricks of light. The monk meditated to the night’s sounds – the chirping night birds, the scuttle of restless mountain sheep, and the soft breathing of his companions guided his attunement to the local flow of energy as he pondered the direction his Tao had led him. He was not satisfied with that course, and was not pleased to recognize that he was unsatisfied. This meant that he lacked the serenity to accept what the Universe had offered, a fundamental necessity on the road to enlightenment. What is, is. Desire should play no part. 

Frustrated – and unhappy with the recognition of his frustration – he reverted to simple exercises taught to children to help order his thoughts. So ordered, he had begun to sink into deeper levels of meditation when a brilliant flash of light surprised him into wakefulness. A mile away and across a ridge of rock lay Phet Lo, and above it pulsed a silent umbrella of white energy. It strobed several times then disappeared. Alarmed, Woo considered waking his companions, but instead decided to investigate alone. He could traverse the broken and darkened terrain much more quickly by himself, and time could be vital. He collected his jiann and departed swiftly down the valley slope. 

Ten minutes later he spied the dark wooden walls of the thorp. All appeared quiet. Cautiously he approached, only to hear a voice out of the darkness.

“What can I do for you, monk? It’s late,” spoke Tuyen, the polearm fighter. A dark form shifted in the small watchtower behind the walls. Faintly in the starlight, Woo saw the glint of steel. He stepped forward and replied breathlessly, “I saw a great flash of light from here; it seemed most unnatural. I thought perhaps you were under attack, so I came to see if you needed help. All is well within?” 

“All is well,” replied the warrior laconically, “I saw no flash of light here. Perhaps you were dreaming.” 

Woo replied, “I was not dreaming. But if there is no danger, I will go. Good night.” _Keep your secrets,_ he thought as he bobbed his head and turned to jog back up the slope. He felt the other’s gaze upon him until the town disappeared from sight.


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## Sammael99 (Sep 27, 2002)

Hey ForceUser,

Great stuff, as usual. Consider this a bump


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## Kosh (Oct 4, 2002)

I really enjoy reading your story...

Thank you for posting it...


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## Sniktch (Oct 4, 2002)

Ditto.  It looks like I forgot to issue praise in my last post, ForceUser, sorry about that.  I've found your story hour to be interesting and very well constructed, and refreshingly different from the standard fare of the genre.  Thanks again for giving me the link


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## Corwyn (Oct 9, 2002)

Time for a friendly *bumb*

This story hour belongs at the top.


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## Sniktch (Oct 11, 2002)

*Bump*

I agree Corwyn.  Is it just me or have Story Hour updates been increasing at an exponential rate?


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## Someone (Oct 13, 2002)

The later. And they stole my only few readers  

Ok, BUMP.


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## ForceUser (Oct 15, 2002)

Sorry guys, I've been busy. I'll try to have an update for you this week.


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## Warrior Poet (Oct 16, 2002)

Looking forward to an update.  This story is top notch.  Cheers for you and your players!

Warrior Poet


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## Corwyn (Oct 20, 2002)

Get a move on Force User!
We want an update!!


*This short break has been brought to you by bumpalisious, the 3e snack.*


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## Pelosan Emperor (Oct 28, 2002)

*BUMP*

A bump to this great storyhour is OK.... but how about an update?  

Please?


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## ForceUser (Oct 29, 2002)

*Session Four, Part Two*

*A COLD* wind blew across the scrubby foothills of the valley as the party hiked back toward the lonesome temple. Phet Lo lay half a day behind them, and ahead the peaks encircling Phau Dong valley loomed. The wind carried a hint of icy mountain rain, and Mai shivered and wrapped her jacket tightly about her. Woo stared ahead impassively, lost in thought. Lei squinted toward the sky, noting the brilliant sun burning behind dark clouds. Tam and Hien spoke quietly about spiritual matters, punctuating their remarks with rapid gestures. Vinh surveyed the horizon ahead, alert for trouble.

As they ascended a narrow gorge, Woo slipped on a loose rock and fell. Lei’s arm lanced out and snatched the monk in a vice-like grip, sparing him a nasty plunge back down the slope. 

“Unhand me!” said Woo as he wrenched his arm free.

“You looked like you needed help,” Lei replied.

“Like you helped Tran?” shot the monk. 

Everyone stopped, shocked. Woo scowled at Lei, a challenge, yet the mercenary did not immediately respond. His face darkened, and his hand strayed toward his scimitar as he clenched and unclenched his fists and bit down angry bile. Very quietly, he spoke, “That was not my fault.”

“You were his guardian. His death is your failure,” spit the monk. Lei bristled and surged toward Woo, but Vinh interposed, placing a hand on each man’s chest and pushing them apart. “Enough,” he said, “enough.”

Exchanging hateful looks, the two broke off and continued the climb. Woo scrambled many paces ahead of the others, and remained in sight but out of earshot for the rest of the afternoon. Vinh approached Lei and began to speak, but the veteran scowled and shoved him as he moved past, “Leave me alone.”

Hien sighed. Hiraki, the eagle, screeched a mournful dirge as he circled far overhead.

*><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><*

That night they camped on the southern slope of the temple mount amid waist-high grasses. The air was cold and thick with condensation and the moon and stars shone bright overhead, reflecting off the dewdrops coalescing on the broad green leaves. They had cleared a spot for a small cook fire and their bedrolls near a rocky outcropping that jutted from the slope like the bow of a ship. 

Late in the night, Lei squatted atop the rock and chewed on a blade of grass. He leaned on his buckler, and his spear and scimitar lay on the stone beside him. Below him the others slept, and below them the silver rays of the moon glimmered in white mists that roiled over the mountainside. In the quiet of the moment Lei thought about the events that had led to Tran’s death. 

Was he at fault? Tran had been his charge, true. But to protect him Lei had many times needed to lead and keep the aristocrat behind the wall of arms that was himself, Vinh, and Woo. Keeping the unit alive kept Tran alive. How could he have known that a terrible bloodsucking creature had lived within the fallen temple, waiting to pounce upon the weak? How could he have known?

That thought did not comfort him. Shame, suppressed until now, burned in his breast. He hung his head as his eyes watered and he took a moment to master his emotions. When his vision cleared, he looked up to see many dark forms far down the slope moving quietly through the fields toward his companions. 

_Crap_, he thought. The forms were hard to see in the dim light, but they appeared to be men, hunched over and spread out as they used the tall grasses to mask their approach. Several of the forms moved obliquely to the party’s position, setting up a flanking ambush. 

Lei made a show of stretching, then picked up his scimitar and dropped off the rock into the moist loam. He slowly walked to his pack and pretended to rummage through it. Using the scabbard of his weapon he nudged Mai, the nearest person. “Thi Mai, awake,” he whispered.

She stirred slightly, but from the darkness of her bedding he heard her whisper with perfect alertness, “Yes?”

“Enemies approach,” he said, then stood to “stretch” again. 

“What is it?” whispered Woo, apparently alert. Lei told him. 

The monk stood and drew his jiann. Into the darkness he cried, “I am a student of Tran Minh Long! Identify yourselves!”

In response, the unknown ambushers let loose a chorus of piggish howls and charged the camp. Lei yelled, “Enemies!” and whipped his scimitar from its scabbard before rushing to meet them.  Vinh and Tam came awake quickly, Vinh reaching for his kama-do and Tam scurrying up the slope and away from camp. Hien sat up groggily before reaching for his spirit staff. 

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Vinh peered at the oncoming assailants and suppressed a wave of fear. He had never seen an orc before, but the older masters of his order had described them to all the no-sheng ascendants. The feral snouts, the hulking frames, the boar-like language of grunts, snorts, and howls, all were the mark of the night-demons. He relayed that to his comrades – “Orcs!” – before dashing across to meet the brutes. 

An orc ran up to Lei. The creature towered over the little mercenary, and its girth blocked out the moonlight. It wore badly cured leather over sodden furs, and held a blowgun in one hand and a wicked knife in the other. Its skin appeared black in the darkness, and its thick mane of matted hair was tied back into long braids that cascaded down its heavy torso. A crude image of an eye, painted in white, adorned its sloping brow. The orc snarled at Lei, then crouched and fired its blowgun. An errant gust of wind sent the dart sailing harmlessly over Lei’s head, and the fighter reacted, charging it and batting away the blowgun with his buckler before slashing a viscous gouge across its ribs. The creature staggered backward, surprised by the power of Lei’s attack. 

As more of the orcs entered the camp, Mai scurried backward and searched for a flanking opportunity. While doing so, she heard a distant, guttural voice chanting, and suddenly she yawned hard and felt a deep weariness settle over her. Fighting it, she stumbled into Tam, who was also yawning and shaking his head. "They have a spell caster,” he declared, but his voice was barely heard over the sound of clashing arms. 

Vinh, readied, exploded into motion as two of the orc warriors tried to move within his reach. Spinning his kama-do, he gutted one with a ferocious uppercut and sliced another open from crotch to sternum. Taking stock, he moved closer to Lei to better support the fighter’s efforts against his own assailant. 

Woo leapt forward, jiann in hand, and opened with a leaping, spinning roundhouse kick to the face of an incoming orc, staggering it. Sword flashing, he opened his foe’s throat from ear to ear, and the creature died choking on its own blood. A second orc bearing a blowgun fired a dart at the monk, and steel glittered as he deflected the attack with a single deft stroke. 

Tam heard chanting again, an unfamiliar litany. The three orcs furthest away from the melee convulsed, and the wizard watched in horror as their brutish eyes swelled with bloody tears. Somehow invigorated, two of the remaining three charged into the fight. The last orc, smaller than the others, wielded a halfspear and shield instead of the gigantic axes of the warriors. His hands held aloft the remains of some animal as gore from the fresh kill ran down his arms and splattered on his face. 

As Vinh and Lei moved to engage the newcomers, they paused in awe of the brute gaining the hill. As tall as all the orcs were, it stood head and shoulders above the rest. Its back was hunched and its malformed head sat at an odd angle upon a twisted neck. Naked but for a loincloth of rotted fur, the creature’s corded muscles rippled as it dragged a heavy axe through the grass. The leader orc hurled some foul word at the monstrosity, and it bellowed and began to twitch and foam at the mouth. With incredible speed, the orc berzerker charged the closest enemy -– Mai.  

The monstrous axe swooshed through the air, cleaving the space Mai had occupied a fraction of a second earlier. Ducking and rolling, she saw Hien run to her aid, and so she tumbled around the orc’s flank and gouged her short sword through its ribs. Frothing, the berzerker swung at her again and found partial purchase, cracking bones with the haft of its axe. Mai screamed in pain and tumbled out of reach. Hien pounded on the creature with his staff as it plunged toward Mai once more, and Sca the fox and Hiraki the eagle bravely harried its flank. 

Vinh finished off Lei’s opponent and blocked the blow from the greataxe wielded by yet another orc warrior.  Sensing an opportunity, Lei slid behind the creature as it tried to breach Vinh’s defenses. The orc was strong but not swift, and not skilled enough to deal with two capable armsmen at once. Within seconds it fell dead from multiple slashing wounds. Across camp, Woo finished off the second blowgun wielder and began to bounce down the slope after the orc spell caster. Seeing the monk coming and his forces falling, the creature turned and fled into the night mists. 

Distracted by Hien, the berzerker buried its axe in the shaman’s ribs for his trouble. He screamed and dropped to his knees, near death, but provided Mai the opportunity she needed. Braving the flailing monster, she darted inside its guard and jammed her duan jian up into its ribcage, seeking its heart. Roaring, the orc staggered forward two steps, coughed up blood, and died. 

Far off in the distance, drums rumbled in the dark.


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## Someone (Oct 30, 2002)

Both the post and the fact nobody has posted yet are unbeliable. Forceuser, keep up the good work.


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## Piratecat (Oct 30, 2002)

I had missed the update. This was great!


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## Corwyn (Nov 3, 2002)

Very nice how those orcs seem to inspire dread in the heroes.

And the nudge to LotR. 

So are the heroes in for a "Run for your life, orc extravaganza"?


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## Sammael99 (Nov 3, 2002)

Excellent stuff, Force User. 

More more more !


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## zoroaster100 (Nov 4, 2002)

*Great story!*

This story hour is great!  Please keep giving us more.


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## Vymair (Nov 4, 2002)

We had to skip last month's session due to helping two players move to their new home so I'm guessing ForceUser will be wanting to spread out the material some.  

As a side note, Vinh has starting sparring hand-to-hand with Woo every morning in order to learn some of the monk's techniques for fighting while unarmed.  In addition, Vinh placed an order for a Masterwork Chain Shirt with an armorsmith in Thang Long before they left on their current mission.  While Woo is disdainful of the practice and insists that the art of hand-to-hand combat should only be properly practiced in its pure form with no armor, Vinh is still unwilling to give up his armor.... 

More adventures await in the Temple of the Monkey God...


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## Warrior Poet (Nov 12, 2002)

<sputter> Wha ...?  Huh?

Page two? </sputter>

Not bloody likely.  Off to page one with you!

Warrior Poet


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## Kosh (Nov 15, 2002)

Yeah....

I am also going to have to bust out the *Bizump*...


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## Corwyn (Nov 23, 2002)

And lets just *Buzamp* it for good measure !!


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## Malin Genie (Dec 8, 2002)

*Bump*

This post is self-explanatory.

Move along.

Nothing to see here.

(Except, of course, a fantastic Story Hour.  Many Kudos!!)


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## Corwyn (Dec 30, 2002)

Indeed there much to see just not in this post, so move along up to the story read that and post a remark 

And if you read between the lines you wil notice the bump that was hidden in there.


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## Hjorimir (Dec 31, 2002)

*Bump*

I want to hear more about Woo, the monk with spunk!


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## Lazybones (Jan 2, 2003)

I have only just finished the first page of this story hour, but I wanted to add some preliminary comments.  As a former history instructor who taught world civ for a few years, I appreciate both the unique setting and the way that your campaign departs both from the traditional medieval European model _and_ the default _Oriental Adventures_ setting.  

RE the story itself, I found the characterizations to be very distinct and interesting, and the way you got your group together was refreshingly different from the traditional "so you meet in an inn..."  Once the group got to the inn the story started feeling rather more "conventional" in terms of familiar D&D, but still engaging.  I look forward to getting caught up to the present with the rest of the tale. 

Lazy


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## Lazybones (Jan 3, 2003)

Well, now I'm caught up, only to find that this SH is apparently on hiatus...

Is this the end?


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## ForceUser (Jan 3, 2003)

Update coming soon. Sorry about the long wait.


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## Pelosan Emperor (Jan 3, 2003)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *Update coming soon. Sorry about the long wait. *




And there was much rejoicing from the masses!

Hmmm... I think I'm going to have to re-read the story


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## ForceUser (Jan 3, 2003)

*Session Four, Part 2.5*

*WOO TORE* through the night in hot pursuit of the orc mystic. His long braid whipped like a cobra in the rushing air as moonlight reflected off the dewy grass, illuminating his path. The moon itself hung oppressively in the sky, a full bright eye that mocked him. Ahead, he heard heavy breathing, grunts and snarls, as his fleeing foe stormed through the brush like a wounded boar. Cresting a short rise, he spied a rippling shadow below him barreling toward a nearby thicket.

Silently, he jumped. 

Propelled by muscles honed through years of rigorous exercise, Woo sailed through the air like a bird of prey. He maintained his balance, thrusting his feet out and guiding his descent with his torso and arms. The rush of wind cooled his face, invigorating him as he focused inward, feeling the flow of his _ch’i_ resonating throughout his body, instantly channeled forward and down the length of his leg.  

Like a sledgehammer, he drove his enemy to the ground. The orc cried out as something snapped, wet and gristly. Woo rolled to the right and sprung to his feet, pausing as the creature writhed on the ground in utter agony, back broken. With a snap-kick to the jaw, he mercifully ended its life. The corpse shuddered, and Woo noticed for the first time drums pounding in the distance, a savage counterpoint to the beating of his heart.

Footsteps crashed on the slope behind him, and he whirled. “Woo! Woo!” cried a Vinh-shaped shadow. The no-sheng skidded to a stop on the ridge above, instantly assessing the scene. “We must go, for surely more will come! Do you hear the drums?”

“Yes,” said the monk, and with that the two dashed up the mountainside to rejoin the others. Within minutes the party fled once again toward the dubious refuge of the Monkey God’s temple.

Above, the moon looked on.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*


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## Black Omega (Jan 3, 2003)

Ah, updates.  Longer!  More!  You have a demanding public to feed.


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## Kosh (Jan 4, 2003)

Even your shortest posts are better than reams of the garbage they print these days...


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## Citizen Mane (Jan 4, 2003)

Sweet.  I've been waiting to get back to the Monkey God's Temple.  I don't know if I've mentioned this, but this campaign's the reason that I bought OA — there's so much neat stuff here that I just find wicked inspiring. 

Best,
tKL


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## Warrior Poet (Jan 5, 2003)

> Even your shortest posts are better than reams of the garbage they print these days...




Hear, hear!

Excellent!  The return of the story hour!

Thanks again.  Looking forward to reading more.  This is a terrific story well told, and a compliment to you and your players.  Your descriptions are outstanding.  The landscape, weather, and moon phases are as much characters as Woo, Vinh, Tam, Lei, Hien, Mai, and Hiraki are ...

Warrior Poet


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## Warrior Poet (Jan 7, 2003)

... and another quick bump just so this one doesn't slip off the bottom of the screen ...

Warrior Poet


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## Welverin (Jan 9, 2003)

Finally caught up after my long hiatus and just wanted to say good job!

Oh, one more thing. Whens my next fix?


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## ForceUser (Jan 9, 2003)

Soon, soon. My muse is playing hide-and-seek.


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## Welverin (Jan 9, 2003)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *Soon, soon. My muse is playing hide-and-seek. *




Hmm, I'l look into getting you some x-ray vision.


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## Warrior Poet (Jan 15, 2003)

And now a brief pause for station identification ...

We now return this excellent story hour to its regularly scheduled front page location.

Warrior Poet


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## Warrior Poet (Jan 17, 2003)

Pardon ... pardon ... pardon me ... excuse me ...

... just need to ... pardon, ma'am ... just gonna push this one back ... up to the ... terribly sorry, sir ... if I could just squeeze by with ... just up there ... yes ... no, why don't you go ahead, sir ... right, then I'll just ...

Ah, back up to page one.  <dusts off hands>  Right.

Warrior Poet


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## Welverin (Jan 17, 2003)

*an unnecessary bump.*

Stinking muse this is no time for games!


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## ForceUser (Jan 17, 2003)

*Session Four, Part Three*

*HATE-FEAR-RAGE-DEATH.* 

Hunt. Kill. Rip. Eat. Copulate. Sleep.

Sleep. Slumber.

Awaken. Mother. Obey.

Follow. Climb. Run. Jump. Attack. 

Scent of manflesh. Horseflesh. Hunger. Hatred.

Flash. Green. Blinding. 

Fear.

_FLEEFleefleefleefleefleefleefleefleeHIDEflee._

Mother. Obey. 

Run. Sleep. Run. Sleep. 

Darkness. Warmth. Comfort. 

Sleep. 

Wait.

_Hunger._


*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*


Tam examined the statue. The party stood in a dank corridor of uncovered stone somewhere within the desecrated temple of Hanuman. Recessed in the walls of the corridor at five-pace intervals were worked guardians of stone, silent warriors depicted with weapons and armor wholly unfamiliar to those present. 

“We cannot place the culture, but we believe it is southern. South of Dai Viet.” The wu jen shook his head and rubbed the small of his back.

“How far south?” asked Woo. The monk glanced down the tunnel ahead to the extent of the torchlight; through a trick of the shadows (or perhaps something more sinister) the guardians stared back at him solemnly. He shivered.

“Hard to know. Not Champa. More southern than that. There are lands beyond filled with jungles and beasts, with wild people who live in trees and worship strange spirits. Perhaps from there.” Tam squatted, then stood and resumed his place behind the fighters. 

“So what you’re saying is you don’t know,” grumbled Lei. The old wizard shrugged, and the mercenary frowned before pressing on down the corridor, torch in his buckler hand, scimitar in the other. The walls pressed in around him, and he sweated nervously in the cool underground air. Behind him, the others followed.

They passed many more stone guardians, but after a while the tunnel angled diagonally and no more statues flanked their passage. The diagonal portion of the corridor ended shortly in a pair of heavy wooden doors, well fastened into the stone wall. Mai crept up and put an ear to the wood, then stepped back and smoothed the front of her ao dai. 

She swallowed, “I heard monkeys. It’s not locked.” Lei’s knuckles went white around the hilt of his weapon, and he nodded and stepped up to the doors. Vinh stepped beside him, and each man gripped one of the two iron pull-rings. Woo drew his jiann, Mai her duan jian, and Hien and Tam flexed their fingers and prepared to cast spells. With a nod at each other, the two fighters heaved on the doors, but instead of a satisfying smooth glide, the old rusted hinges protested. The wood swollen in its frame shrieked, and grating over stone the doors opened no more than a foot, while the men strained and yanked and cursed while taking care not to drop their weapons.

Inside, darkness swallowed the torchlight, casting frantic shadows through the sliver in the doors. Small forms scrabbled in surprise, but then the howling began, echoing eerily off the bare walls within. Lei gave up on his door and added his strength to Vinh’s, and between the two of them they opened the right side enough to allow them to pass. Mai darted up and tossed a torch into the chamber ahead, and sparks danced off stone as it bounced and rolled within. 

Illuminated, the room beyond appeared to be dressed for martial training, with racks of bamboo weapons along the walls, ropes attached to the ceiling, straw dummies, and woven sparring mats over the undressed stone. On the far wall a door stood recessed at the end of a short corridor. That door lay open with blackness beyond, and wriggling through from that space came a large silver douc with pronounced incisors and a swollen barrel chest to join the smaller monkeys already there. The sparring room smelled of dust and animal waste, and in fact the floor was littered with it. 

The frenzied animals attacked as the group streamed in, but the outcome was never in doubt. Afterward, Mai and Hien poked about the room, Tam sat down to have a drink of water, Vinh stood guard at the doors they’d entered through, and Lei and Woo explored the next chamber over.

“It’s a furnace room,” called the monk, “Square, there’s a door on each wall.” The furnace, built like a gigantic kiln, took up most of the space beyond, allowing no more than a corridor two paces wide on all sides of it. In the center of each wall sat a recessed wooden door, some of which were ajar. The noises of the evil primates rebounded from beyond two of them, though the distance was hard to tell. 

Lei placed a hand upon the furnace’s bricks. “Cold.” 

Woo nodded, “Hasn’t been used in some time.” He wrinkled his nose at the smell of old soot. The front of the furnace had an iron door, now latched. Using his staff, he unlatched it, then pushed open the rusted metal and peered inside. He coughed as a fine layer of old ash swirled from the opening of the door, but sat upon the small ledge and thrust the torch into the silent device. 

“Appears to be a chimney or something here. Could lead out.” He pondered the merits of crawling up the tube; the fit would be uncomfortable but not impossible. Finally deciding against it, he shimmied down and dusted off his robe. 

“There are carvings on these doors,” declared Lei, and Woo stepped over and held up his torch to get a better look. Lei stood in front of the only secured door in the furnace room. Fully intact, it depicted a host of spirits cavorting underneath a large spirit of the sky, who with outstretched arm directed the others onward. His breath blew clouds along.

“Spirits of the wind,” said Tam, who had joined the two younger men. “They are agents of August Heaven, bringing fair currents to all who rely upon them for their livelihood. This is the Wind of the North.” He indicated the large spirit.

“But that would mean the artisan who carved these doors was Viet, or held Viet beliefs,” said Woo. 

“Yes,” replied the wu jen. As they puzzled over that, Mai entered the furnace room and began listening at the open doors. “Shhh!” she whispered, “They are very close!”

“Right,” said Lei, and he took up his sword and strode to her position, throwing the door aside and rushing within. Instantly the sounds of the idling creatures changed to screeching alarm and hatred, mingling with the sound of ringing steel hacking through flesh and bone. 

Woo rushed to aid the mercenary, diving past Mai, torch in hand. As the others exploded into motion, Tam stood in the back, content to let the fighters do the fighting. To his right, the door depicting the Wind of the West stood half-open. As he listened to the sounds of combat and studied the portal, pondering what he had learned, he started in surprise as something beyond the door stared back at him with red eyes filled with malice and ill intent. 

Before he could speak, it leapt at him.


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## Warrior Poet (Jan 17, 2003)

New updates form Sepulchrave and ForceUser within a day!  Yes!

The monster/animal mental monologue at the beginning is intriguing.  I once wrote a short story from the perspective of a dog (not anthropomorphized, but still "thinking" using English) that read something like that.  An excellent introduction, off pace with what has come before.  Nice.



> The frenzied animals attacked as the group streamed in, but the outcome was never in doubt. Afterward, Mai and Hien poked about the room, Tam sat down to have a drink of water, Vinh stood guard at the doors they’d entered through, and Lei and Woo explored the next chamber over.



This was a nice way to allude to a fight and its outcome -- sometimes it's a nice change to not describe every combat in a round-by-round way.  It's also a good way of hinting at some of the advancing abilities of the players.

And cheers for the cliffhanger!  This story is so solid! Thanks for posting!

Warrior Poet


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## ForceUser (Jan 18, 2003)

*Session Four, Part Four*

*TAM FELL* backward against the furnace, bruising his shoulder as he fended off the engorged langur with his staff. The creature hissed and grasped at him as his shoved it roughly to the floor. Behind it, more red eyes glittered in the shadows. Gasping for breath, the wizard backpedaled toward the far side of the room, careful to keep his guard up. He yelled, “More back here!”

Vinh, his polearm hindered somewhat by the tight corridor, had not followed the other fighters into the room beyond the south door. In the jumbled light through the short hall he saw blood and fur flying, and heard men stomping through shallow water. When Tam yelled he turned and spied the monkeys coming from the western portal, so dashed to meet them. Remembering Tuyen’s unconventional fighting style, he improvised in the cramped space, thrusting his weapon down and before him, sweeping side to side as he switched his grip. Clumsily, he wounded one beast and pinned another to the stones, pressing deep until the abdomen crunched and blood welled up. Vinh gritted his teeth and drove the other monkeys back beyond the door. 

“I need light in here!” bellowed the no-sheng.  Hien responded, squeezing past Mai and tossing Vinh a torch. He threw it through the door before charging in. Behind him, Tam crept back toward the fray. Hien pressed against the furnace and tried to monitor both fights. 

Vinh dove into what was once an eating hall. Monkeys scrambled over rows of wooden benches and tables silhouetted in the ruddy light. Some scattered; others leapt at him, and he hew them down as he moved in to allow anyone behind him room to follow. Woo, the lower half of his robe darkened with water, skidded comically into the chamber beside him. His torch revealed the rest of the hall, including the pantry in the back. Over there the creatures gnashed and spat at the adventurers, preparing to attack. Nodding at Woo, Vinh darted toward the pantry-room, then squatted and shouldered over a table bench, barricading the animals inside. As he did so they rushed and began to scale the table, which was not much of a deterrent to tree-dwellers. Vinh scrambled back, ready to meet their charge, but suddenly a sickly green skull, aflame with arcane energy, burst into being between them. Vinh recoiled, momentarily fearful, and the monkeys cried out in terror and fled to the farthest corner of the pantry. Behind the warriors, Tam stood in the doorway sweating, fist out-thrust, a look of determination in his eyes. Vinh and Woo stepped away from the horrid illusion, and Vinh noticed a distinct lack of combat from the other fight. 

“All dead?” he asked his friend, leaning on his kama-do. 

“All dead,” Woo confirmed. He gestured at the monkeys cowering behind the ghost light. “Kill these?”

“Why?” said Tam, “Let us go. They will not follow.” The warriors nodded, and soon a bench blocked the Door of the Western Wind. They joined the rest of the party in the room beyond the Door of the Southern Wind, which turned out to be a long-disused meditation chamber, complete with contemplation pool, which explained how Woo and Lei had gotten soaked during their fight. Two other doors stood in this area, one of which was connected to the room by a short flight of stairs. It stood ajar, and Mai confirmed that behind it was a ten-pace hall, which ended in an unlocked portal. On the western wall of the contemplation chamber stood yet another wooden door, behind which was a very long corridor.

After discussing it, they agreed to brave the longer tunnel because it appeared to go deeper into the temple. As they explored it, they discovered small sleeping cells with moldy floor mats to their right as they went. Many were covered in monkey dung, both old and fresh.

“This was where the monks slept,” affirmed Woo. 

“No,” exclaimed Vinh, “not monks. No-sheng. Look.” He entered one of the rooms and bent to recover something. When he stood, the torchlight revealed a rusted greave. 

“Well that makes sense,” said Hien, “We’re near the entrance, right? You’d want the soldiers to bunk close to where they guard.” 

“Be careful!” cautioned Mai. She squatted ahead of the others, scrutinizing the flagstones. “I’m still looking for traps.”

“I don’t think they’d trap their sleeping quarters, Thi Mai,” said Woo. “Would make it a bit difficult if they had to get up to pee in the middle of the night, don’t you think?”

Defensively, she replied, “You never know. Doesn’t hurt to be careful.” The monk shrugged and stepped aside. Feeling foolish, Mai scanned once again and fell back behind Lei. Vinh nodded at her encouragingly, “No, doesn’t hurt.”

After fifty feet, the hallway turned right. At the elbow of the corridor stood a flimsy wood door, and shining his torch down the turn Lei saw a similar door about twenty feet away. “Officers quarters,” he declared, and upon inspection this proved to be true. The first two rooms had several sleeping mats in disarray, but in the third and largest room they found remnants of a single elaborate bed. Poking around, Mai discovered a time-ravaged but impressive tunic of red silk embroidered with a magnificent war elephant. The style was unfamiliar, Tam declared, but matched the statues they’d seen earlier. Whoever these Hindus had been, they had not been from Dai Viet. 

Stepping out of the commander’s chamber, they discovered that the hall turned right yet again, ending in another wood portal. On its left, a sturdy iron-banded door stood slightly open. Upon inspection, Mai declared that the flimsy door led back to the eating hall and the sturdy one to what appeared to be an armory. Avoiding the dining hall, the adventurers crept into the other room and discovered four rows of racks, some of which still held rusty spears, polearms, and staves. All of the racks were spaced along the right wall, leaving a wide walkway to the left. They spread out as they moved in, and at the far edge of the torchlight Lei discovered a set of elaborate double doors at the end of the left walkway. The doors stood ten feet tall, ironbound and thick, with detailed engravings of a now familiar Monkey Warrior-god leading his host against some forgotten enemy. Lei admired the god’s courage and poise.

Among the racks, Woo discovered a shortspear not rusted away to dust and splinters. Hefting it, he noted its remarkable balance and masterwork artisanship. Glancing at Lei, who was examining the doors, he snorted in derision and tossed the spear back on the rack. As he turned to go, Mai shook her head at him. 

“What?” said the monk. The thief, with an eye for wealth, shot him a scornful glance as she retrieved the spear. "This is quite nice.” She spoke low, arching an eyebrow. “You must have overlooked it.”

“Must have,” shrugged Woo. He walked to a different isle and ignored her. Mai presented the weapon to Lei, who was quite pleased. He dropped his old spear on the rack without another thought.  

Left of the double doors on the adjacent wall stood yet another door, this one of etched stone banded in metal. On the lintel above a mason had engraved words in a language no one present knew, and none could guess what lay beyond the portal. Conferring, the group set that mystery aside for the moment and concentrated on what waited behind the more elegant doors, which were not locked. Hien, who had remained silent throughout the exploration of the armory, expressed a deep uneasiness with what lay beyond. When Lei pushed open the doors, they all felt it. A dark foreboding, a sense of inevitability, a soul-wearying languor washed over them then, and after readying sword and spell, they swept aside the doubt and fear tugging at them, and stepped forward once again into the unknown.


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## Spatula (Jan 18, 2003)

Hooray!  The story hour is back!


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## Welverin (Jan 18, 2003)

Wow, two updates in two days. Thanks.


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## Hjorimir (Jan 18, 2003)

*We play today!*

After the long holiday break we are playing today. Can't wait to get back in there and kick monkey-butt!


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## ForceUser (Jan 20, 2003)

What a fun session! 

Pop Quiz. After last night's session, 

A) the group celebrated their victory against the Monkey Woman.

B) the group still searches for the elusive Monkey Woman.

C) everyone saw the sun again.

D) some unfortunates will never see the sun again.

E) A and C are both correct answers.

F) B and D are both correct answers.


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## Welverin (Jan 20, 2003)

I have a bad feeling about you so I'll go with F.


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## ForceUser (Jan 23, 2003)

*Session Four, Part Five*

*HIEN RECOILED* as he entered the room beyond the elaborate doors, flinching as though stung by a swarm of invisible mosquitoes. Sca whimpered, hanging at the doorway, and Hiraki squawked in dismay upon the young shaman’s shoulder, fluttering its wings in an effort to stave off whatever evil lay beyond. Steeling himself, Hien calmed his companions and continued. 

Holding aloft his torch, Lei discovered a long and narrow antechamber replete with Hindu murals and containing a pair of altars long disused. Made of wood and brass, graven with images of Hanuman and his trappings, they stood against the walls of the room as if shoved there with little concern or reverence. Old candles, long burned low, sat in pools of wax flaked with the dried incense of forgotten prayers. The floor lay covered in detritus and filth; the air hung heavy with the smell of fresh animal dung and the acrid scent of piss. Choking back his revulsion, the mercenary sidled into the room, careful not to disturb the ominous presence he felt beyond the opening in the wall to his right. 

They all felt it, a malign and ancient force that caused despair and hopelessness to swell in their hearts. Each step became a journey, every movement a supreme effort of will. They sweated, and resolve warred with terror on their faces. Coming abreast of the opening, they peered within. Mingled with the brightness of their torches was a dim indigo light that permeated the chamber beyond. Tall and vaulted, the ceiling swelled into darkness. Supporting it were six enormous pillars of stone carved with more images relevant to the monkey god, cavorting animals and fierce soldiers upon the field. Directly opposite the opening upon a wide dais of stone squat the god Hanuman himself, massive and tall, a mirthful expression carved upon his monkeylike face. In each hand he held a scroll of wisdom and upon his head sat the sun, representing enlightenment. His eyes, however, pulsated with the corpulent glow that blanketed the room. 

Before the statue, the floor wriggled and dozed with a furry carpet of monkeys. Languid, they snuggled against each other, seeming to take comfort in the wicked aura permeating the corrupted shrine. As the party shone their torches about, some of the creatures flinched away from the light and began to stir. They cackled in their animal language, warning of intruders, danger. All across the room, monkeys took up the call, coming awake and adding their voices to the chorus of outrage and hatred. 

Thrusting his hands aloft, Hien begged the blessing of the spirits of earth and sky. Answering as if from far away, the group nonetheless felt immediately bolstered and comforted, as tiny invisible spirits alighted on their shoulders and began to whisper encouragement and praise. Shrugging off the lethargy that had seized him, Vinh called “Tam, get up here!” and whirled his kama-do to the ready. Gathering his _ch’i_, Vinh released it all at once and cried out, “By the power of my ancestors!” 

His voice shook the walls, and he seemed frenzied then as he stepped forward to meet his enemy. Inspired by Vinh’s example, the others began to move, drawing weapons and rushing to meet the monkeys that even now scrambled over one another to attack the intruders. A large langur, murder in its eyes, dashed toward Vinh, and Lei cut it down while stepping up to form a line at the shrine’s entrance. 

The monkeys gathered themselves and charged, a rippling wave of malice that broke against the heroes, but the line stood fast and thundered death upon the corrupted animals, who climbed over the bodies of their fallen to press savagely at the humans who had invaded their sanctum. Mai tumbled into the shrine but immediately regretted it because the unease and fear she had felt outside it multiplied then, and became a living thing of evil that gnawed at her stomach and suffocated her soul. Her stomach turned as she skewered an animal, and choking on bile she dashed back across the line. 

Behind the warriors, Tam raised his arms, yellow fire blazing along their lengths. Pointing a finger, he twisted reality, and fragments of stone exploded among the back ranks of the monkeys, sending a dozen animals and parts of animals flying in all directions with a cacophonous *BOOM*. Gore rained down upon the survivors, and they shrieked in hatred and dismay. 

With a final flurry of attacks, Lei, Woo, and Vinh slaughtered the wicked animals to the last. Many that had tried to reach the shaman and the wizard lay dead in a pile at Vinh’s feet, where he had hacked them down one after the other as they had braved his flashing kama-do. His surge of energy now spent, the no-sheng stumbled and leaned on his weapon, breathing heavily as he thanked his ancestors for lending him their vigor. 

Looking around him, Vinh noticed a grim satisfaction and a new resolve in the eyes of his companions. Something had happened here. They had grown. 

“So,” began Woo, wiping his sleeve across his face, “then this is it?”

Lei, gasping, shook his head. “I think not. No Monkey Woman here.”

“But what’s making that glow,” wondering Vinh, pointing at the statue of Hanuman. “Surely we’ve found the stone at least.”

“We don’t know,” Tam ventured, shaking his head, “She was said to be wearing it.”

“One way to find out,” replied Woo, pointedly looking at Mai. Shuddering, she nodded in return and steeled herself, picking her way around the piled corpses of their foes. She held herself as she went.

The others stepped into the shrine then and felt it too, reaching for walls or weapons upon which to lean, so heavy was the air of desecration in that place. Visibly shaken, they spread out and searched for any clue of the Monkey Woman.  Mai climbed the dais carefully, alert for traps, and searched the statue as well. Finding none yet little at ease, she drew a rope and hook and skillfully tossed it into the crook of Hanuman’s arm. Testing the hold, she climbed toward his face, and the others stopped their searching and came forward, ready for more foul play. 

When she reached the head, Mai blew out a frustrated sound and called down, “It’s not a stone. The head is hollow, and there’s a candle inside. The flame is indigo, and it burns but does not consume the wax.” She placed her face within an empty eye cavity and blew, then blew again, then shook her head. “It won’t blow out. What should I do?”

“Destroy it!” Woo cried. Mai drew her sword then and swept the black candle out of the cavity. The tiny flame flickered as it fell, and the candle splattered on the steps of the dais. The light snuffed out, but the foreboding evil in the shrine remained. Frustrated, the adventurers backed out into the antechamber. 

“We should leave,” began Vinh. “There is much we must reflect on.”

“Yes,” said Woo, “It’s time to go.”


*^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*


*DEEP BELOW* the earth, the Mother moved ponderously, gingerly stepping around the desiccated corpses of her victims. Slouching, she took delight in the subservience of the mewling creatures bound to her will. They swarmed over her like maggots seeking dead flesh, and she allowed it, reveling in the pinpricks of pain from their tiny claws. She shuddered in pleasure and the creatures quailed, afraid that their touch had offended her. She took pleasure in that as well.

Before her lay an altar carved of granite and topped with an obsidian slab inlaid with gold.  The slab, once glossy, now presented a dull black surface in the indigo light, forever stained with the blood of a thousand sacrifices. 

Quivering, she gathered her power, and her servants screeched and attacked each other in an orgy of violence. Ignoring them, she lifted the limp form at her feet to the altar top and bound it there. The figure moved then, a last bid for freedom, but weakness overcame it quickly and it soon lay still except to tremble at its fate. 

Joy swelling in her breast, the monster that had once been Pham Thi Nhu cut deep into her victim, and with great savagery wrenched free the living heart. Blood spurted across her face and she laughed then, a terrible sound that caused her creatures to flee to the far corners of the vaulted chamber. Holding the dying organ aloft, she incanted words of supplication and rejoiced at the answer she received – throbbing, immediate and longing to be free.

Very soon, it would be.


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## Someone (Jan 23, 2003)

Just great, as always!


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## zoroaster100 (Jan 26, 2003)

*great!*

Great story hour!
Great writing!

This one is always a pleasure to read.


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## Sammael99 (Jan 27, 2003)

*Woo-hoo !*

Just had the chance to catch up in between writing my own stuff. 

Great. I love the forshadowing at the end too. I'd like to do that without revealing plot elements, but it's not always easy !

Way to go ForceUser !


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## Warrior Poet (Jan 28, 2003)

And now it's time for your regularly scheduled praise for this story hour.  Please stand by ...

Huzzah!

We now return you to your anticipation.

Warrior Poet


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## Hatchling Dragon (Feb 4, 2003)

*ForceUser*, what do you do for a living, if it's not professional writing I'll simply have to ask _why not!?_.  It's very obvious you have a knack for it.

While my other favorites in the *Story Hour* forums  are well written and have interesting characters, your writing has done such a fantastic job of breathing life into so many situations that most would gloss over, such as a simple trapped bridge.

This Story is definately going on my Subscribed-to list.  It's even _more_ like reading a novel than the other 'big guns' of the *Story Hour*s.

Hatchling Dragon


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## ForceUser (Feb 4, 2003)

Dear readers,

Writing this story hour is a labor of love; the main purpose of which is to record my campaign in a meaningful way for my own enjoyment, and also so that one day my players and I can look back and remember Great Campaign Moments together. That is, after all, why you keep going back to the gaming table. 

I don't spend much time reading this thread and quite frankly I am terrible at accepting praise. So to everyone who has chimed in over the past six months I would like to say that your comments _are_ read and _are_ appreciated. This has become the longest story I've ever written. Here's to another six months.

Sincerely,
Alan


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## Sammael99 (Feb 4, 2003)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *I don't spend much time reading this thread and quite frankly I am terrible at accepting praise. So to everyone who has chimed in over the past six months I would like to say that your comments are read and are appreciated. This has become the longest story I've ever written. Here's to another six months.*




Well Alan,

Your Story Hour has quickly skyrocketed to being one of my favorite and I agree with Hatchling Dragon that it is most excellently written.

I sure hope thare'll be another 6 months !

Way to go !


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## Welverin (Feb 5, 2003)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *Here's to another six months.*




Six months!? It's going to end in six months!? What will I ever do!


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## Kosh (Feb 24, 2003)

Bump...


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## ForceUser (Mar 12, 2003)

Bumping so this doesn't fall off the 3rd page 

Updates coming.


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## Malin Genie (Mar 12, 2003)

/cheers loudly

/cooks popcorn

/waits in the darkness, alert for the slighest noise


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## Sammael99 (Mar 12, 2003)

ForceUser said:
			
		

> *Bumping so this doesn't fall off the 3rd page
> 
> Updates coming. *




Yay !


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## ForceUser (Mar 13, 2003)

Inspired by Sepulchrave II, I’m going to alter my storytelling to reflect a broader perspective, instead of the narrow focus on what the player group senses, which I have traditionally written. This necessitated allowing the story hour to slip several sessions behind current so that I could write about events without giving anything away to my players who read it. Enjoy.


**


*BEFORE.*

_When the dragon roared, the earth obliged. Tunnel walls cracked as buttressed ceilings gave way, and huge chunks of granite and marble splintered, fragmented, and fell in upon themselves. Men died by the dozens, crushed by falling rock or suffocated by thick clouds of pulverized stone. All over the temple complex, the fighting stopped as sworn swords threw down their weapons and fled only to die in terror as the earth above their heads betrayed them. And still the dragon roared its anger, its loss, its vengeance. 

Its judgement. 

*BAAAAAAAAAAMAAAANNNNNN-SHAAAAAAAALLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaa*, roared the being in utter fury. Its cry echoed through every tunnel and hall and lingered in the ears of the dying. In a small, cloistered chamber deep within the temple’s corridors, a tall bald man with cruel eyes stood up in shock from where he’d bent. Frozen, he gaped wide-eyed as the sound reverberated in his chest and shook the walls and floor around him. Fear took him then, yet he hardly noticed the rush of warmth in his undergarment that signaled the release of his bladder. 

It had said his name. 

And in the saying it had rendered judgement, severe and swift, such that he knew at once what fate awaited him. Fright made him weak, and he leaned swooning against the chair of the man he’d just tortured to death. Looking up, he realized that two of his aides had fled, yet a third lay blubbering for mercy at his feet. Seeing the aide’s cowardice inspired hatred in him then – hatred for the fool below him, hatred for the unknown god who now came to punish him, but most of all, hatred at himself for becoming what he most despised, a weakling. 

Snarling, Baman-shala stood straight on trembling legs and kicked the man with all his might, again and again. The cretin sobbed and tried to protect himself, but it mattered little; soon the tall man’s foot became black with blood in the dim light and the aide struggled no more. Around him, the walls of the temple cell thundered an inevitable rhythm. 

Thoom. Thoom. THOOM. THOOM. *THOOM*. The footsteps of a god. 

“Well, he will not have me,” the man said to no one in particular. “And he will not have *you*,” he spit at the corpse in the chair. The dead man was ancient, possessing a wrinkled bald head that hung limp, and impossibly long earlobes that drooped to his neck. His eyes stared with the glaze of death, and his small hands hung limp in his lap amid crumpled robes of blue silk stained with blood. 

Unsheathing the long knife he’d used to kill the monk, Baman-shala pushed the head back and sawed maniacally through the dead man’s neck. When the head hung by no more than strand of flesh he dropped the cruel weapon, grabbed with both hands, and wrenched it off. Blood seeped from the severed neck, making his hands sticky as he grasped his prize. 

Even now he mocks me, thought Baman-shala as he regarded the butchered corpse. He fled the chamber then, down halls filled with dust, debris, and the remains of his loyal tantrics. Behind him, the pace of the being had not changed; inexorably, it marched to him. It sounded impossibly large to fit through the claustrophobic tunnels of the former temple of Hanuman.

Weak with fright, he stumbled and had to retrieve the blood-slicked head from the dusty floor. A fine powder hung in the air, and he coughed and choked as he felt his way along the walls toward his destination. He felt a door then, solid and wooden, which he pushed open to reveal ruddy torchlight beyond. Passing through, he noted the dangerously lurching ceiling and collapsed pillars near the room’s far side, as well as the corpses strewn about like dead fish. In the center of the chamber he regarded the statue of Kali his followers had erected at his bidding. He screamed at it in wordless rage, and fell to his knees as he hurled the dead monk’s head at it. The severed thing thumped into the statue and fell to the marble floor with a wet smack. 

As he stuttered forward on all fours to recover the head, Baman-shala froze. His bladder voided again, and his breath caught in his throat as a soul-wrenching fear rooted him to the spot. 

Behind him loomed the Presence. 

Without turning, he sensed its indomitable will roll over him, stealing the breath from his lungs and all thought of flight from his mind. In the torchlight, he watched the marble floor before him as a large winged form drew up from behind and dwarfed him in shadow. 

“*LOOK AT ME,*” the Presence commanded. Its voice was the voice of old earth and tumbled rock, of mountains worn by time. Cringing, loathing himself for it, Baman-shala turned and beheld his fate._


**


“We’re going in circles,” said Nong Thuot irritably. He glanced around at the others, then raised his face to taste the rain dribbling through the canopy above. 

“No, we’re not. Shut up,” said the larger of his companions, a fighter named Ngai Nan Yen. He scowled at the wily man behind him before hacking more of the undergrowth from their path with a rusted machete. Yen stood much taller than the others, with broad shoulders honed by a lifetime of wearing heavy armor. Now all he wore was a ragged shirt, wet and torn across the back where the orcs had lashed him. He shivered so hard that his teeth chattered, which only made him angrier. _I’m going to die of fever in this thrice-cursed jungle_, he thought darkly, and not for the first time. 

Thuot glanced at the others, “Surely the Yao Ren agrees with me? Look, I have seen that tree before, by now I know it like I know my own mother!” The man jabbed a finger at a particularly average-looking tree for emphasis. 

Yao Ren Xuan sighed wearily. “If we’d come this way before, we’d have seen the trail Yen left with his machete. Just focus on staying alive, Nong Thuot.”  The thief had proven his usefulness with locks and traps early on the expedition, and his sense of hearing was without parallel, but their ordeal had changed him. Now it was all Xuan could do not to strike him, if only to silence him. 

“It’s that damn _dang-ki’s_* fault, it is,” continued the thief heedlessly, “if he hadn’t wasted himself on needless heroics we’d be somewhere warm by now, perhaps even Te Han. I have many friends in Ten Han, friends with food and fiery hearths and…” 

“Will you SHUT UP?” thundered Nan Yen. Before he’d realized it, he’d whirled on Thuot, machete poised to strike. Cowed, the smaller man scurried away out of reach. Overhead, birds rustled and cawed in the trees, startled by the fighter’s outburst.

“The orcs still hunt us,” Xuan warned as he interposed himself between his partners, “And we have a long way to go before Phau Dong valley. Let’s not fight amongst ourselves. We have to protect the lady.” 

The fighter paused, then grudgingly lowered his weapon, “Alright. Just shut him up please.” He glanced at the bedraggled woman who was their charge. She stood next to the sorcerer dumbly, staring not at the jungle but at the memory of the terrors she’d endured in the orc camp. Yen felt a twinge of sorrow for her; when they’d arrived – a lifetime ago, it seemed - she’d been a charming and animated young lady. Now she stood mute, a husk of her former self. Resolving again to see her safely back to civilization, fever be damned, he turned back to his task. 

“What’s that?” cried the thief. He knelt and froze. 

“What?” replied Xuan uneasily. But the other man hushed him with a wave of his hand, a familiar gesture from more lucid days. Behind Thuot, Nan Yen fell into a combat stance. Xuan felt the hairs on the back of his neck creep up, and he slowly turned in the direction the thief had cocked his head. 

Drawing his dirk as he silently rose, Nong Thuot pointed into the trees. “There,” he whispered. Xuan turned to where he indicated and saw nothing at first. As he peered into the dark canopy however, a subtle form became clear. Sitting in the bole of a large banyan tree was a silver-and-black langur regarding them intently. 

“Bah, it’s only a monkey,” exclaimed the fighter.


**


The gigantic snake lunged at Lei with serpentine precision. Along its distended hood, serrated shards of bone flexed as the creature danced its way past the mercenary, cutting a long gash in his torso as it went. Lei screamed as all twenty feet of the enormous reptile disappeared into the quivering brush to his left before he could even raise his sword. The snake possessed supernatural swiftness.  

Large thickets of overgrown bamboo crowded close on both sides of the path within the hidden garden, making combat difficult. Lei cursed as he bled and readied to attack the next time the serpent engaged him. Woo and Vinh did the same, trying to position themselves to catch the creature’s next sally. Looking over his shoulder, Tam witnessed Mai fleeing back the way they’d come. He called after her to no avail. 

The frightened rogue passed Hien as he moved forward to aid Lei. Before he could approach, however, the monstrous snake darted out again, turning the adventurers’ blows against its tough hide as it struck once again at Lei. The creature’s scales were glossy black, and its underbelly rippled blue and gray. Red eyes peered from above six-inch fangs, and its hood spread out fully four feet across, presenting a red diamond pattern within. Hissing, it sliced the mercenary a deep gash across his thigh before coiling its body around him and constricting. Howling in agony, Lei dropped his scimitar as the creature lifted him off his feet. 

Darting in, Woo and Vinh harried the creature’s flanks as best they could, and the no-sheng drove his kama-do deep into the reptile’s body. But the snake did not drop Lei, and Hien could not reach him to heal his wounds. As Lei struggled to break the creature’s grasp on him, the serpent sunk its fangs deep into his chest and constricted again. This time the crunch and grind of bone was audible, and Lei fell limp in its grip. The snake dropped him and turned on Woo. 

The monk ducked low and spun his jiann, finding the flesh beneath the scales. As the monster reeled, Vinh raised his weapon high and brought it down with such force across its tail that he nearly severed its spine in a single blow. As the monster staggered and tried to flee Hien leapt high and swung his magic staff like a club, taking the serpent in the throat. With a final sigh-hiss, it fell heavily to the earth and lay still. 

Quickly Hien called the spirits’ healing down upon Lei’s dying form, bringing him back to the world of the living. 

“Th…thank you,” stammered the mercenary weakly. 

“Of course. Why did Mai flee?” asked Hien as he helped Lei to his feet. 

Picking up his staff, Woo shrugged, “Because she was scared, I guess. Let’s go find her.”

They discovered the rogue huddled in a corner of the vaulted hall they had come through. The chamber was three-walled, with the fourth open to the garden. The hall had once been a place of meditation, positioned as it was to catch the rising sun. Now, of course, it lay unused. 

“Mai? Are you okay?” ventured Vinh as they approached her.

“I can’t take this anymore!” she wailed. “This place is horrible! I want to go home!”

The men glanced at each other uneasily. Blunt as ever, Woo said, “You know that’s not possible, Mai. Not until we find this Monkey Woman and end her curse.”

“I don’t care anymore!” she cried. 

Vinh approached her and knelt. Softly, he said, “I know that’s not true, Mai. You’re a strong person. Don’t let your fear of this place prevent you from helping the children of Kim Phe. When you are frightened, think of them.”

The rogue snuffled and got to her feet. 

“I thought we were leaving,” said Lei. “I could use some time to train. This place isn’t going anywhere.” 

“We could, I suppose,” said Hien, “but let’s stay a little longer. I sense we’re on the verge of discovering something significant.”

“That does not comfort me,” said Woo.


**


*In my campaign, a _dang-ki_ is a skilled woodsman and tracker, an animist who venerates the spirits of his ancestors and the wild, and loathes those that defile the sanctity of nature. In short, a ranger.


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## Elemental (Mar 13, 2003)

Nice stuff. I must admit, I'm bracing myself for the Predator to show up soon......


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## Kosh (Mar 16, 2003)

While I prefer the old style of writing, I can't stand in the way of creative expression...

As long as you write, I will read...


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## Khorod (Mar 19, 2003)

Just read the whole archive today.  Cool stuff.
This is the first Story Hour I've really looked at, and if these guys are right you may have ruined me...


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## Graf (Apr 1, 2003)

I remember bookmarking your story hour when you first mentioned starting it. And again when you did discuss slowing the unnatural advancement of the 3e system. Then someone recommended it as a supplimental source of primates when jonrog lost his monkeys.

Finally we have found time to hear your tales today and find your monkeys greatly pleasing. We wish to hear more tales of monkeys. Though their setbacks against the vicious humans are must disheartening we are confident that cuddly flesh-eating monkeys will ultimately immerge victorious. Pokey-things are no match for fresh monkey droppings.
We have found your clever words so inspiring that we have adopted this absurd typing style. Though, in truth, the little sleep we have had recently is most certainly contributing.

We did note your practicing of your NPC's words inbetween sessions. This makes us feel better, as we often must do this or else our NPCs always sound the same.

That your writing is greatly satisfying to the people is undeniable, but we know that they could be even more pleased by the inclusion of something currently missing.... 
Your story hour lacks Yak-folk. This is a grave thing. This public is fickle and inconstant in their passions. Inclusion of yak-folk would assure you their support, and their blessings upon your children for generations to come.

Forget not the yak-folk.


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## Hjorimir (Apr 15, 2003)

Update your storyhour! Chop-chop!


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## ForceUser (Apr 18, 2003)

As desired, so executed. I will try to update more frequently.

Enjoy.



**



The crevasse yawned below them, swallowing the torchlight like a malevolent maw. The party huddled within the radius of the light, acutely aware of the earthquake-ravaged tunnel around them. Behind them lay strewn a trail of footprints, fresh tracks in the tomb-like corridors of the monastery’s deepest recesses. Motes of pulverized granite swirled and settled in the light. 

Vinh coughed, clearing his throat. “How deep is it?”

“I think I see a ledge,” said Woo, “Hold this.” Handing Vinh his pack, he put his torch in his mouth, then squatted on the tiles and gathered a handful of fine-grained powder. He clapped his hands together and rubbed, and a small puff of gray billowed into the dark. In the close, musty tunnel the sound fell flat. 

With a grunt of “hupp!” he began to descend. Strong fingers dug into the uneven rock face, and the others watched with grim interest as he quickly shuffled down out of sight. From below they heard a muffled thud and saw a wobbly orange glow illuminating brown earth and gray stone. The monk called up “It goes further…I think there’s a cavern farther down.”

Tam winced as he straightened his back and began rubbing his spine. Nervously, the old wizard spoke. “This could be her lair. We do not know if we are ready to face her.” Hien wasn’t sure if the wu jen was referring to himself or the whole group. Shrugging, the young shaman replied. “We must face her, to break her curse if we can. Sca.” The fox leapt into the shaman’s arms, and Hien nestled him into his pack securely.

Mai sighed, resigned, and dug out a length of fine silk rope. With Lei’s help she secured it to a large chunk of fallen masonry, then carefully rappelled into the fissure. 

Tam continued mumbling to himself as he took off his pack and handed it to Lei. “This is not a natural opening in the earth…magic forces were once at work here…evocations…spirits of earth compelled…unf!” Gingerly, he worked his way down. 

Forty feet below the ledge, the fissure opened into a dry, sandy-floored cavern. When the last person, Lei, reached the bottom, he spied Woo carefully examining the cave walls. They sparkled dully with multi-hued deposits of minerals. When Woo commented, Tam rattled off a list of names. “All very common minerals,” he concluded, “none so fine as to be worthy of alchemical transmogrification.”

“Of what?” said Woo.

“You can’t turn any of these rocks into gold,” Hien translated. 

“Whatever,” replied the monk. “The cave continues up ahead. There’s a tunnel.”

“There’s always a tunnel,” said Lei.

Woo glowered at him, then stepped aside and gestured to the mercenary. “After you.”

Vinh sighed. “Just follow me.” 

And so it was that Vinh strode at the head of the small column when the party entered a sandy-floored cavern with no less than three connecting passages. 

“What now?” said Mai. Vinh took off his helm and scratched his head, and that’s when he heard the clacking, shuffling sound emerging from the cavern on the right. He tensed and dropped into a ready posture, crane-watches-for-fish. “Sshhh!” he exclaimed. 

Mai, of course, had already distanced herself from both the sound and the other fighters and drawn her duan jian. As the others began to react, a squat, heavy form roughly the size of a mule rushed Vinh out of the darkness. The creature – whatever it was – was protected by a thick, lumpy hide of rust-red, with a tail covered in armored plates that looked rather similar to the tail of a gigantic lobster. It possessed a large, insect-like head with two shiny black eyes, small mandibles, and a pair of large, feather-like antennae that groped at Vinh’s weapon. 

When one of the antennae brushed the kama-do, the intricately inlaid weapon disintegrated instantly into rusted flakes in the no-sheng’s hands. The creature paused momentarily to gobble them up. 

“Sh-t!” cried Vinh in dismay. Everyone else gaped at the absurdity of the attack. Woo was the first to react, tumbling nimbly around the creature and thwacking it with his bang. His beautiful, jade-worked jiann he kept firmly in its scabbard. As Mai circled around, Lei backed up dumbfounded, but cradled his new-found spear protectively all the same. “Kill it!” he exhorted Tam. “With magic!”  

The wu jen merely shrugged and studied the creature with rapt curiosity. 

Hien, brave as ever, leapt forward with his spirit staff and thumped the creature on its armored back. It didn’t seem to notice him. Vinh’s armor, on the other hand, looked very tasty. 

As the no-sheng lashed out at the thing with his backup weapon, a hand axe, it caressed his armor gently with both antennae. 

“Arghh!” screamed Vinh in frustration as his golden scale hauberk rusted away to clumps at his feet. The creature* ignored him and hungrily began to masticate. 

In short order, with much shouting and several telling blows, they put the monster down. Toward the end it dimly perceived the threat these walking meal tickets posed to its continued existence and fought back accordingly, but a creature of such basic instinct could never appropriately defend itself against a truly committed opponent.

As the now armorless, weaponless no-sheng had become. 

“That, uh, kama-do is not going to be easy to replace?” ventured Woo.

“Not at all,” fumed Vinh. “My only hope is that Tuyen has a spare. I will be at a distinct disadvantage without armor or the weapon I have trained in since childhood.”

“Look on the bright side,’ said Woo, “this is an opportunity to practice the forms I have taught you.”

Vinh shot him an annoyed look. “Yes, thank you.”

“Here,” offered Lei, “you can use my spear.”

Looking dismally at the pile of rust that was once his masterfully crafted, privately commissioned weapon of choice, Vinh took the spear and let out a long sigh. “Let’s move on.”



**



Hours later, after randomly choosing the passage to the left, the party discovered that the uneven tunnel widened and then ended at a large black hole in the ground, twelve feet across. The air smelled strongly of water, and upon kicking a loose rock into the hole Woo was rewarded with a distinct _plunk_. 

“Water…could be deep.” The monk squatted at the lip of the opening and held his torch aloft.

“I don’t see the point of going down there,” said Mai. Tam nodded, “Neither do we.” 

Woo shrugged and stood up, dusting off his robes, and began to move away from the opening. Just then, a weak, raspy voice echoed up from below. 

“Is…is someone there? By my ancestors, has someone come? H-help…help me. Please.”

Everyone froze. 

“It’s a trick,” said Lei immediately.

“How could someone possibly be down there?” asked Mai frantically.

“Hrmm,” grunted Woo in general disapproval of everything. 

Tam, meanwhile, wandered over to the edge and called out pleasantly, “Hello! What are you doing down there in the dark? And what is your name?”

The voice below broke into choked sobs, “Oh ancestors, it’s true, I’ve finally gone mad.”

“What is your name?” Tam repeated.

“Oh, why not?” cackled the voice, ”I am Su Fong, a wizard and seeker of lore. I have been imprisoned here by an evil dragon.”

“Right,” declared Woo, “Let’s go.” He started back up the passage.

“Wait,” said Tam. 

“Wait? What part of _evil dragon_ didn’t you understand?”

“I want to hear more,” said Hien, and he stepped up beside the old wu jen.

Tam continued the dialogue. “Su Fong, why did the dragon imprison you?”

“Why do evil dragons do anything?” answered the voice evasively.

“I suppose we’re just hearing a strange echo,” said Tam, “There’s nothing down there. Let’s go.” He made as if to turn away.

“I stole something from it!” wailed the cracked voice desperately.

“Ah,” returned Tam sagely, “What did you steal?”

“A…a key.” hedged the voice. 

Exasperated, Vinh interjected, “A key to what?”

A high-pitched giggle wafted up from below. “The key to the Middle Room.”



**



*For the sake of clarity, let’s call this thing a rust monster.


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## Hjorimir (Apr 18, 2003)

Rust monsters need to eat too!


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## Spatula (Apr 18, 2003)

Hmmm.  Monkey women _and_ evil dragons.

Not good.

As an aside, Woo seems unusually... angry, or maybe just impatient, for a monk.


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## ForceUser (Apr 18, 2003)

Spatula said:
			
		

> *As an aside, Woo seems unusually... angry, or maybe just impatient, for a monk. *



Indeed


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## Hjorimir (Apr 18, 2003)

More angry than impatient.


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## Welverin (May 28, 2003)

*so I went awa for a while give e a break.*

What is this, it's been well over a month and not only has there been no update, but no one's even bothered to bump it and say what a great story hour this is?

What a travesty!


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## ForceUser (May 28, 2003)

Sadly, this campaign has ended. My players ultimately opted for a setting less demanding on their roleplaying ability; as westerners attempting to portray medieval Asians in a medieval Asian world, they were frequently frustrated at their inability to relate. And so my great experiment, which I kept in the back of my mind for several years, has failed. I will, at some point, finish the tale of the Curse of the Monkey Woman. It is a story that deserves telling. 

I will be starting a new Story Hour soon, one about a campaign in which I am only a player, but a campaign that has grown beyond its DM over the year and a half we have played it. It is set in contemporary 3E Greyhawk and centers around three gods - Iuz, Tharizdun, and Zuoken - and the events they and their servants have conspired to manipulate. The player group, of course, is caught in the middle, as all good player groups are.


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## Welverin (May 29, 2003)

*thanks for the good read.*

Sorry to hear, for you and me. You definitely did a good job with the SH and through it I'd say you did a good job with the setting as well.

Looking forward to the end of this story and the beginning of the next.


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## Vymair (Jun 7, 2003)

For those of you who are fans of ForceUser's writing, check this thread for the campaign mentioned above.

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=52469

The DM is Hjorimir and most of the players also participated in this campaign.


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## Welverin (Jun 22, 2003)

*no pressure*

This post is a bump masquerading as a not so subtle reminder.


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## zoroaster100 (Jun 22, 2003)

*It was great while it lasted*

ForceUser, thanks for sharing this great story hour with us.  I followed it from your first post and really enjoyed reading it.  Not only was it a great D&D story hour, but it was also a great example for how to use the Oriental Adventures rules to create an original setting and make it come alive with adventures that were both reminiscent of D&D adventures in the "standard" rules yet with definitely different flavor.  I look forward to read your new story hour set in Greyhawk.


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## Welverin (Jun 23, 2003)

*Re: It was great while it lasted*



			
				zoroaster100 said:
			
		

> * I look forward to read your new story hour set in Greyhawk.*




Look forward to? You haven't started reading it yet, what's taking so long?


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## Malin Genie (Jun 23, 2003)

Thank you for a wonderful Story Hour.

I'm sorry it had to end, but I thoroughly enjoyed as much of the campaign as did take place, and if you do get the chance to complete the Shrine of the Monkey Woman story I look forward to reading that too.

Can't write more, off to read your Greyhawk SH now....


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## Welverin (Oct 25, 2003)

*bump for great justice!*

I've heard tales of a monkey woman, do my ears deceive me or is just she especially sneaky?


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## Drowbane (Jul 27, 2005)

*bump*

Great story!


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