# Scarred Lands: None Dare Call Them Heroes (updated 12/07/03)



## jonrog1

_*A war rages across the Blood Steppes.  As battlefields run with gore, ancient ruins are uncovered in the wreckage.   Supply stops become thriving towns – and perhaps more.  Perhaps new kingdoms in the badlands.  

From chaos can come heroism … or opportunities …*_

Distracted from family rivalries that brought them to the brink of civil war, the human nobles of Vesh now battle a monstrous bandit king in the Blood Steppes.  Calastia moves troops into the region for “protection”, even though their settlements remain strangely untouched by the hordes.   

After three years of fighting, the Bandit King is mere miles from the Canyon of Souls and Mourning Marshes.  If his ravaging Horde reaches Vesh, thousands of innocents will die. 

The forces of good and evil face off for one last, desperate battle in the canyons of the Blood Steppes.  At this very moment, Mighty Heroes fight among cloud-rimmed mountaintops, pounding at the summit of a vast dark tower!

You, on the other hand, are a git standing hip-deep in mud, watching 1,000 ratlings with pointy sticks charge the last fifty yards toward your trench.



*One way or another, it’s your last day in the war.*


----------



## jonrog1

_(DM’s Note: Just setting up the campaign/world model before we launch in.  I think it’s an excellent example of how the Scarred Lands setting is defined enough to give you structure, but loose enough to customize considerably …  The following essentially sums up the *Angry Monkey Scarred Lands Campaign*, is for Scarred Lands rabid fans to see the changes, and can certainly be skipped.  Jump to the first chapter post.)_

In the previous campaign, the young Mithril bar waitress *Anadale* was discovered to have a rather convoluted heritage.  The gleaming city once housed one of the Royal Families of Vesh, destroyed by the Penumbral Lords.  That particular point of the city’s past has been generally covered up by the Coreanic Church and the Mithril paladins.

The ragtag Royal bloodline continued underground.  A conspiracy called * The Third Eye * protected the dwindling family.  The Mithril Royals schemed and plotted, angled for allies, and generally behaved like the fringe players they were.

Inexplicably, someone considered them a menace.  After several attempts on the living heir’s life, the Third Eye sent the girl – infant Anadale – to live in Canterhaven.

Canterhaven was a charming little fiefdom hewn by sheer force of will from the lands north of the Hornsaw and south of the mountains.  The popular Lord and Lady could produce no issue.  Anadale arrived, was claimed as their daughter in order to protect her identity.  The Lord was a cousin of the Mithril bloodline, so he took this burden on gladly.  Anadale grew up to be a fine young noble, trained in sword and bow, beloved by her people.

Then the vampires came.

In a horrible twist, Canterhaven found itself overrun not by its own enemies in the Hornsaw but by Anadale’s enemies – enemies she herself was completely unaware of.  A Vampire Army took over Canterhaven, slew the Lord of the Manor, the Lady disappeared, and Anadale escaped by the skin of her teeth, riding hard and fast as the only home she’d ever known burned behind her.  And, in one of those bizarre twists of fate Enkili so seems to favor, sixteen year-old Anadale fled to the largest but most isolated city she could find on Ghelspad – Mithril.

There, while bar-wenching, Anadale met her boon companions during a bar fight: * Roscoe Tosscobble*, a halfling blessed with painful, epileptic visions from Corean; * Jastra*, the blindingly brilliant but emotionally detached elven mage from Vera-Tre; and *Khal Khalandurrin*, the genially homicidal dwarven caver.

Over the next few years they: 

--fought tentacle-spewing prostitutes
-- defeated priapic drug-crazed priests of Corean
-- uncovered a conspiracy of decay in Emil Derigesh’s Coreanic church
--rescued children from a hag’s hut after gobbling down enchanted buckets of filth

-- discovered a lost Ubantu temple while fighting off a thousand angry monkeys
--defeated a Slarecian plot utilizing a Khadum-blood based drug
--picked up *Rip*, a human planar-displaced duelist from a land called “Virginia”
-- allied with *Krug*, the half-orc martial artist who’d come to realize the orcs would never triumph over the human  forces (“Gruumsch is good.  Gruumsch is great.  Gruumsch is not handing out fireballs.”)
-- crossed the Blood Steppes while dodging vampiric hit squads
-- ended a small civil war fueled by lycanthropes, and nearly died in their mountain-spire lair
-- founded a small resistance in Canterhaven after curing the psychic ills of a town called Bellhold
-- defeated a ghost-dragon in his other-dimensional lair
-- negotiated peace between the lizardfolk of the northern Hornsaw and the humans
-- traveled back in time to stop the destruction of a demonic temple
-- explored a lost underground colony wiped out by gorgons
-- discovered a secret weapon in a town destroyed by the bio-clockwork horrors of a mad mage
-- and finally – with the aid of a squad of Hollow Knights – struck at the temple of the Vampire Lord of Canterhaven as he attempted to shift the entire kingdom into a realm the Vera-Tre elves called “Ravenloft”.

With Canterhaven restored, Anadale returned to Mithril.  Roscoe Tosscobble was now plainly a chosen of Corean, almost at the level of Herald.  They rooted out the Slarecian corruption in the Coreanic Church, and Derigesh stepped down to allow Roscoe to reluctantly take the lead of the organization.  Part of the bargain of covering the whole thing up was Anadale’s ascension to the restored throne of Mithril.

The Royal bloodline was restored.  Canterhaven was liberated.  A trade route stretched across southern Vera-Tre, extending the elves’ healing touch into the blighted lands of the Blood Steppes.  The Church of Corean was purified.  

It was the classic, well-deserved end to an epic campaign by true heroes.

_Next: What Happens to Happy Endings in the Scarred Lands …_


----------



## jonrog1

*”Prologue: The Law of Unexpected Consequences.”*

Vesh, at the time of Anadale’s ascension, was a nascent republic.  When a royal bloodline was reinstated with the obvious blessing of the Gods – I mean, look, Corean worked through a _halfling_, it was so important – the people saw the signs.  They knew the score.

This “republic” nonsense had to go.

_(DM’s Note: The historical example here -- the heroes wrecked the Enlightenment.  Good job, heroes!)_

Luckily, the general leading Vesh at the time (see the *SL Gazetteer*) was a direct descendant of the original ruling family, back when there had been royals running different sections of the land.  A tidy restructuring of power, and boom, Vesh was divided up among the original Clans from a hundred years earlier.  Five families vied for power and influence of * the Iron Throne*.

Fifteen years passed. * Lord Reach Godwyn*, respected adventurer and diplomat, rules the Iron Throne.  The other families have let their rivalries get the better of them.  A cold civil war is heating up.  The blooded swordsmen of the families, *Oathblades*, often dueled openly. 

_(DM's Note:  Oathblades are based on OA's Samuria class.  Hereditary bastard swords replace katanas.)_ 

Ordinarily the threat of Calastian Expansion would unite the families, but *King Virduk* was now at death’s door, and without an heir.  Traviak continued his brutal war against the dwarves and Durrover, and made noises about being given full control of the decadent, pseudo-autonomous region of New Venir.  It looked like the Calastian Empire might just burst into flames all by itself.

When the Bandit King first appeared in the Blood Steppes, he seemd like no more than another necro-druid with a few nasty tricks up his sleeve.  His dark army swept across the blood-red badlands. Tiny settlements disappeared among tales of horror and sacrifice.  Even Vigils sent out to discover the lay of the land stopped returning.

The first full Veshian military company sent out to face the madman was nearly wiped out to a man.  They checked his advance just long enough for the Iron Throne to pull together a proper army and head out into the Steppes.  Under supernatural rainstorms, both sides stalemated and dug in on a fifty-mile wide skirmish line.  It became a war of trenches and strong-points, the line never shifting more than a few hundred yards, ever.  Both sides swelled with mercenaries and volunteers from as far away as Termana.   Every day was ten hours of non-stop, hand-to-hand battle.  Every day meant hundreds of dead and injured.

That lasted three years.

Recently, a mysterious Black Tower rose almost overnight in the Bandit King’s territory.  The generals and mages of Vesh realized that this was some sort of arcane power-structure, and that it spelled the end of the stalemate.  If the Bandit King could punch a hole in Vesh’s line, then nothing would stop them ’til the Blood Sea.  Something had to be done.

The epic heroes of renown, Jastra and Roscoe, came up with a plan.  They could lead a strike-force into the Tower.  They could destroy it.  But they needed to draw as many fiendish troops and powerful necromancers from the base of the Tower as they could.  They needed a diversion.

Unfortunately, the “diversion” they came up with was to allow sections of the Veshian line to collapse.  Not pretend to collapse.  *Collapse.*  Flanks rolled up.  Veshians outnumbered and overwhelmed, running full tilt from the trenches while screaming slitheren and titanspawn slaughtered them wholesale from behind.

That’s where our protagonists find themselves on this very first day, in the very first seconds of our tale …

_Next: “Thank you so much, you epic-level b@st@rds!!”_


----------



## Harp

Giddy with Story Hour glee, I am.  The Scarred Lands are quickly becoming one of my favorite settings and now jonrog has set one of his wondrous tales there.  And what a fancy-tickling setup!  This I can't wait to read.


----------



## (contact)

"You, on the other hand, are a git standing hip-deep in mud, watching 1,000 ratlings with pointy sticks charge the last fifty yards toward your trench."

Classic.  I'm looking forward to more!


----------



## Dungannon

Ooooh boy.  Another story hour to get addicted to.   Don't know much about The Scarred Lands, but if jonrog1 is telling the story, it's bound to be a good one.


----------



## jonrog1

*"Chapter 1: "Wherein our protagonists discover: sometimes, discretion is the only part of valor."*

Kirby let out a truly impressive string of Ubantu obscenities.  Taggart would ordinarily have stopped to bathe in the linguistic glory of that profane construct, but they _were_ both running for their lives.  Another desperate horn BLARED from their right.  The trumpet calls were getting closer, faster.  These were signal horns.  They were to be sounded when a section of the Vesh line was collapsing, calling for reinforcements.

They'd been sounding nonstop, from all over the battlefield, for the last five minutes.

Taggart and Kirby hurtled through a copse of woods at full tilt.  "Have I mentioned I hate this war?"  Taggart gasped, rain slamming him in the face. 

Kirby nimbly sidestepped a cluster of corpses impaled on a charge-breaker.  "You see, why didn't you mention that earlier?  I've been sticking around because I thought you were enjoying yourself."

Taggart glimpsed over his shoulder.  The furred-and-fanged-and scaled wave of the Bandit King's army was breaking over the ridge behind them like a howling, insane tidal wave.  The two men were ahead of the collapsing line by a hundred yards.  Taggart figured they were losing ten yards a minute, even at full run.  Dammit ...

The two men broke into a clearing filled with Veshian soldiers.  That cheered them up.  After all, they too wore the uniforms of the Iron Throne.  They weren't actually _soldiers_ of the Iron Throne, but  such details were for the small-minded to worry about.

The Veshians were closing on a single old man in a black robe.  Even as the charged with their pikes, the old man muttered and gestured --

"Run," suggested Kirby.

"Run," answered Taggart.  Any idiots who didn't keep an archer readied against a spell-caster deserved what was coming to them.

A disk of air in front of the mage _rippled_.  Space-time pinched.  Suddenly, a half-ton of snarling insect-demon ROARED from the void.  Heads went flying , ricocheting off the narrow saplings.  Kirby winced as one soldier took the extra three seconds to die. 

Before the summoned spawn could turn on them,  the two mis-adventurers slid on their butts  twenty feet down the muddy embankment into the next trenchline.  They sloshed through the knee-deep mud, the sucking sounds almost loud enough to be heard over the pounding rainstorm.   Three years of supernatural rain had turned this section of the Blood Steppes into one huge quagmire.  Taggart seemed to remember a time when his crotch and socks had been dry ... but it was hazy.  Probably another hallucination.

They rounded a sharp bend in the trench and pulled up short.  They had to climb over a big pile of dead guys.

And the brunette with the five-foot sword probably had something to say about that.  

She stuck the end of her Oathblade in the mud, leaned against it.   A wiry blond man stood up from behind the big pile of dead guys.  He was scratching notes on wax-paper bound in a loose book. 

"In the name of the Iron Throne, clear the way!" Kirby called.

The blond man raised an eyebrow.  "That is the worst disguise I have ever seen.  Ever.  Orcs have more cunning disguises."

Taggart looked down.  The uniforms _were_ kind of ratty.  And he was still wearing his thick Termana leather duster over his armor.  "How about this," he tried.  "The line's collapsing and the we're right now about fifty yards from a Gorgon death squad."

"That works," the young woman snapped.  The four took off at a dead run.  "I'm Alec," the young man introduced himself.  "She's Indigo Montoya.  She's really quite amazing with that --"

"Running now, chat later," Kirby yelled back.

A slow, building ROAR began over their heads.  It grew louder and louder, closer and closer ... it was teeth-rattling, skull-shattering, bowel-emptying.  Kirby looked up as a DARKNESS engulfed them --

The burning black dragon SLAMMED into the mud just next to them.  They bounced off the walls of the trenches as it CRASHED through the wood barricades, leaving a furrow twenty yards across.  It finally came to rest in a crumpled, flaming heap.  They crawled to the shattered edge of their trench.  The monster still burned in its crater.

"Now _that_," Kirby muttered, "is a helluva thing."

"Hey, look," Taggart deadpanned.  "The dragons have returned to Ghelspad."

"What sets a dragon on fire?" Indigo asked.

They looked at each other.  They thought about what the answer might be.  They started running again.

Suddenly a warning trumpet IN FRONT of them sounded.  "Oh, that is _not_ good!"  Taggart shouted.  They cut a hard angle through wrecked trench-warrens.  A high LAUGH from above them caught their ear.  When they looked up, they saw a giggling wizard flying through the air, his robes flapping behind him like raged wings.  He was unleashing arcane green BOLTS of energy from a wand, FLASH-FRYING Veshians as they ran.  He turned his attention to the four fugitives --

An elf leaped over their trench, his bow SINGING four times in mid-jump.  The wizard screamed as the arrows punched through his torso.  A weak gurgle, and the dead necromancer began drifting slowly to earth.

The elf paused long enough to mutter a vile word in Elven before disapearing.  Taggart, Kirby, Indigo Montoya and Alec raced off as the cries of titanspawn grew louder  behind them.

"THERE!"  Kirby pointed to a nearby hilltop.  A ruined GUARDHOUSE was silhouetted against the grey sky.  There was no roof, and two of the walls were wrecked and only chest-high, but the back walls were solid.  High, narrow windows might give good sniper positions and cover --

"If I know the Iron Throne army," Taggart announced, "there's some heavily fortified bunch of hard-@sses dug into that strongpoint!"

The four slogged up the hill desperately.  They hit the low wall, Taggart and Indigo vaulting the wreckage, Kirby and  Alec leaping through remaining window openings.

There were Veshian soldiers in the guardhouse, all right.

They were lying in the mud, their wounds bandaged.  Some of them moaned.  Most of them just politely bled out in the mud.

One man stood watch over these wretched wounded.  He raised his shining spear.  Light improbably gleamed off his chainmail shirt.  Rain ran off his shaved head.  His eyes were intense over a trim goatee.  "In the name of Madriel, I say to you, YIELD!"

Taggart was so busy trying to figure out how to steal the cleric's horse, he almost didn't realize he'd finally found his twin brother.


----------



## fenzer

Excellent!  Another great story hour.  Jonrog, you have done it again.  I do nothing but follow you around like a hungry puppy.  The thing is, I like dogs. 

Man, at the rate I am picking up new story hours, I might just give Horacio a run for his money.  I have been reading for two hours straight now and I'm ready for more.


----------



## Harp

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *Taggart glimpsed over his shoulder.  The furred-and-fanged-and scaled wave of the Bandit King's army was breaking over the ridge behind them like a howling, insane tidal wave.  The two men were ahead of the collapsing line by a hundred yards.  Taggart figured they were losing ten yards a minute, even at full run.  Dammit ...
> *



Now _that_ is visual imagery.  How I do enjoy jonrog1's story hours.

A question:  do you make use of the Rogues Gallery to post the characters for your stories, or do you prefer that the characters' race, class, etc. be imparted gradually through the tale?  Either way, great fun.


----------



## jonrog1

Harp said:
			
		

> *A question:  do you make use of the Rogues Gallery to post the characters for your stories, or do you prefer that the characters' race, class, etc. be imparted gradually through the tale?  Either way, great fun. *




Just never had a proper system to post in before -- my orginal Story Hour was in my home-brew D20 system.  Now that D20Modern's out, will probably finally post that crew.  May use the Custom Hero classless system, I really love it.  You can find it in the D20Modern forum.

I think I stillhave the Pulp Spycraft sheets around.  Will check this weekend.

And I"ll see if I can get the group organized enough to get me their character sheets for posting in the Scarred  Lands.  They all level up this Monday, so  that should be an opportunity.

Glad you're enjoying the Story Hour.  First for me writing D&D ... although as you'll soon see, this isn't your standard adventuring group.


----------



## Harp

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *
> Glad you're enjoying the Story Hour.  First for me writing D&D ... although as you'll soon see, this isn't your standard adventuring group. *



And that's what makes it such a refreshing read.  So much gaming fiction succumbs to the "...and then they walked into a 20' x 20' room and were attacked by zombies..." syndrome.  These stories grab you by the nape and drag you along for the ride.  Hellish good fun.

Looking forward to perusing the character sheets.


----------



## Graf

Where does your original SH live? Tried searching but couldn't find it.

Thanks


----------



## jonrog1

Graf said:
			
		

> *Where does your original SH live? Tried searching but couldn't find it.
> 
> Thanks *




It's the Dark*Matter Story link below.


----------



## Graf

**(turns out you can't delete posts)**


----------



## jonrog1

Ah, Angry Monkey's SH disappeared on the old Boards and was never finished.  Sad.  Because everyone loves monkeys.


----------



## jonrog1

just bumping all three so I can find them easier to update this weekend.   Cheers.


----------



## jonrog1

* Chapter 2: “Wherein our accidental companions pause just long enough to reaffirm their committed self-interest in the face of others’ suffering.” *

“Taggart?!” the priest called out.  Taggart pulled up short, nose to nose with the man.  Kirby stopped next to them, staring one to the other.  Same eyes, same nose, same build – identical except for the vague air of upright morality surrounding the newcomer.

“_Argent?_”  Taggart and Argent couldn’t believe it.  It had been close to ten years since the two had seen each other, since Taggart had stolen away that last fateful time from the orphanage run by the Sisters of Madriel.  Ten years of doubt, of worry, knowing that the other lived simply because each could sense the heavy presence of his twin within his own heart.  Argent, cleric of Madriel, threw his arms wide out for an embrace.

Taggart chucked him on the shoulder and ran past.  “Great-to-see-ya-lets-find-some-more-horses –“

Argent looked to Kirby.  Kirby shrugged elegantly.  Even covered in three years of mud, Kirby still always managed to come across as a vaguely inconvenienced city gentleman.  Kirby ran after Taggart.

Argent welcomed the others.  “Finally, more to aid me in the –“

“Sorry, can’t talk, fleeing now.”  Alec waved to the cleric, circled the interior of the ruin while committing the layout to memory.  Although the roof was long gone, the North and West walls were still almost at their original height of three stories.  Arched windows, empty of glass, dotted the West wall.  The South wall where they’d entered was half-ruined and half-standing.  The East wall was also almost intact.   Where a gate would ordinarily have stood, the aperture was clogged shut with logs and wagon ruins, all the way up to the top of the wall.

Argent hailed the young swordswoman.  That was no ordinary blade she carried; it was an Oathblade.  She was obviously a royal of high character –

“OW!”  Indigo kicked a wounded man on the ground.  His low moan was lost beneath the rain.  “One of your men tripped me!  You shouldn’t leave them lying around like this!”

_(DM’s Note: Indigo speaks with Inigo Montoya’s accent from THE PRINCESS BRIDE.  Drink in the beauty of a surly, five foot-four swordswoman with that accent carrying a four-foot five sword …)_

There was a broken stone stairway leading up to the East wall edge.  With a stunning bit of acrobatics Taggart leapt from stone to stone until he was balanced atop the ramshackle ruin’s high top.  He scanned their surroundings.  The ruin was perched atop a ridge.  In front of them, to the East, he could see the forces of the Veshian army in full retreat, thousands of men stumbling through the mud, breaking before the vast wave of titanspawn and undead, stretching from one edge of the horizon to the next.  Beyond that Taggart could see the Black Tower.  A weird cloudbank surrounded the top of the Bandit King’s stronghold, and phosphorescent lightning chewed at the battlements.  Something was up – something waaaay out of Taggart’s league.  

Behind the fort square, the ridge fell away into the winding, narrow cliffside paths of Blood Steppe ravines.  And just at the base of the ruin –

-- “A WAGON!”  There was a large supply wagon dug into the mud.  Its dead driver was slumped across the seat.  The four driving horses sloshed through the muck aimlessly.  “You, Alec!  Circle around!” 

Just as Alec got to one of the windows, a SCREAM caught their attention.  They all turned to see one of the wounded men on the ground writhing, a rough spear pinned through his chest.

Over the broken south wall scurried half a dozen walking nightmares.  Six foot tall, mottled wet fur, pointed jaws, brandishing wicked barbed spears.

_Slitheren_.  Rat-men!

Kirby spun as three of the beasts tried to climb through the wooden barricades of the old gate.  Their refuge was  attacked from two directions by slavering, savage titanspawn – just the leading skirmishers of the vast wave of monstrosities even now clawing their way up the wet ridgeline!

Taggart, Kirby, Alec and Indigo turned to run.  “Damn,” Taggart shouted, “I thought we had more lead time!”

But on the ground, Argent pulled his short-spear’s point from the ground.  Beside him, just one of the soldiers managed to stumble to his feet – a wizened veteran of forty who stood guard over a wounded young red-headed lieutenant.  Argent and the soldier nodded to each other, set their feet in the bloody mud.  Argent brandished his spear, his robes falling away to reveal his bone-white chainmail shirt.  “Come on then!” he cried.  “Come and face the wrath of the blessed, titan-filth!”

“What the $%^#@ is he doing?” Taggart thought.

“What the $%^#@ is he doing?” Kirby thought.

“What the $%^#@ is he doing?” Indigo thought.

“This is going to make a _great_ story,” Alec thought.

The Slitheren at the South wall hissed again and leapt into the courtyard.  They STABBED down into some of the wounded as they rushed the cleric and the old soldier.  Argent’s face contorted with rage as he saw men die he could do nothing to save.  

The first Ratman reached him, throwing up a savage series of blows. Argent parried them expertly, his spear flashing.  The old soldier beside him was instantly set upon by three of the beasts.  Argent felt hot blood spray his face as the man fell, his throat slit.  The Ratmen pivoted to take the cleric in the flank, the one before him ROARED, hot breath of rotted meat filling Argent’s eyes with tears.  He could sense the other two Ratmen from the South wall closing in.  Despite his insane bravery, some small part of him despaired.  How could the others abandon him like this?


----------



## jonrog1

*Chapter 3: “Wherein our protagonists try on the coat of heroism, and find it tight across the shoulders.”* 

“SQUUEEAGHHHHH!”  The Ratman beside Argent was suddenly … bisected.  With the Ratman still frozen with his spear held high, the two halves of the titanspawn just _slid moistly_ away from each other.

The two halves parted to reveal Indigo, her massive dark blade still held above her in the finishing pose of her stroke.  She pivoted in the mud, the indigo blade describing a great arc, taking the next Ratman in the torso.  The blade passed halfway through the titanspawn and CHUNKED to a stop on its sternum.  Almost casually, Indigo placed a boot on the thing’s twitching chest and SHOVED it off her sword with a meaty GLURK.  “I really have to work on the follow-through,” she muttered as she dueled the remaining beast.

Alec hauled himself through the window on the rear of the ruin.  Dropping down into the muck, he followed the cover of the wall, circling around to get the wagon.

The three Ratmen pushing their way through the barricade were focused on Kirby.  So they didn’t see Taggart do a full two-and-a-half gainer off the top of the wall, his leather duster splaying out behind him like great wings.  Still in mid-air his right arm SNAPPED out, and a foot-long blade SLID from his sleeve, past his hand, his fist closing on the grip carved directly into the base of the blade.  They didn’t see the flash of that _katar_, the Ubantu punch-blade also honed for slashing.  

And so they didn’t see the first of them die.

Taggart landed _outside_ the ruin, behind the Ratmen.  One coughed blood as he perforated its lungs.  The other two turned and flailed at him.  Taggart was staring right into their eyes when a rapier-blade PUNCHED through one of the Ratmen’s skull from behind, the point emanating from its hissing mouth.  The remaining Ratman turned back to find Kirby in perfect _en pointe_, a flawlessly extended lunge with his rapier completely skewering the other creature’s skull. 

_(DM’s Note: Two rogues.  Enjoy the brutal flanking goodness.)_

Back among the wounded, the majority of the Ratmen pressed in on Indigo.  The glory of killing an Oathblade would give them incredible prestige.  She expertly parried their blows, her massive sword moving impossibly fast.  The largest of the Ratmen muscled his spear past her defenses, though, and GOUGED her along the ribs.  She swore so violently, the titanspawn almost stopped in shock.

Outside the ruin, Alec leapt into the driver’s seat of the wagon.  With a “he-YAAA!” he drove the team back toward the rear of the ruin.  As he turned the corner he looked back in the direction of the battlefield.  He saw exactly what –

-- Taggart saw as he finished the last of the Ratmen on the gate.  Something was happening at the Black Tower, something more than the lightning.  Now a cyclone of raw power spun around the tower, rippling up and down the walls.  Suddenly, they all ROCKED as a tremor ran beneath them, the harbinger of an earthquake.  He pulled himself through the wreckage barricade.  “You feel that?”

“All the hair up on the back of my neck, yes!”  Kirby pulled Taggart free of the barricade and the two raced to aid Argent.

Argent was bleeding from multiple wounds.  The sudden arrival of his brother and Kirby pulled his opponent away, giving him a chance to fall to his knees, gasping.  But before attending his own needs, he crawled through the mud to the wounded old soldier.  He pressed both hands against the man’s ragged throat wound, closed his eyes and prayed.  A warm glow emnated from beneath his palms.  As Argent stumbled back, exhausted, one could see the soldier’s throat was intact.

Taggart and Kirby quickly had their hapless victim spinning like a top between them.  Even as it died, something arced gracefully over Taggart’s head.  His peripheral vision caught the Ratman’s surprised expression still on its severed, flying skull.

Indigo stepped away, her Oathblade describing a delicate figure-eight in the air as the Ratman’s beheaded body slopped down in the mud.

“Told you she was good with that,” Alec called out from the windowsill.  He toppled off as another tremor SHUDDERED through the ruin.  Parts of the wall came tumbling down, massive stones SPLASHING in the mud.

Taggart hauled his brother to his feet.  Above the rain, the deafening screams of the titanspawn army were almost on them.  “We’ve lost this strongpoint!” he yelled.  “Get into the wagon!”

Kirby sprung to the wall again.  He looked East again –

-- and barely shielded his eyes in time to save them.  A brilliant FLASH appeared where the Black Tower stood.  Then, Kirby saw as he blinked into the horizon, there was no Black Tower.  At once, an eerie stillness descended over the battlefield.  The Dark Army was still charging toward him, but even its sound was muted.  For where the Black Tower had been, there was now nothing but … well, a DOME. 

Or a bubble.  Kirby couldn’t figure it out.  It was like a huge, glowing dome, and the weird thing was, it was _expanding_.  It grew larger and larger, higher and higher, and the near edge of it raced toward him in total, unnatural silence.  Some sort of containment spell …

Then, Kirby’s not-quite-human eyes picked out tiny shapes in the surface of the dome.  Men.  Monsters.  Swept up and crushed, blown away –

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kirby thought.* ”A shock wave!!?” *

Kirby hopped back down to where the others were still arguing.

“I’m not leaving without the wounded!” Argent yelled back to Taggart.

“Fine, but whoever’s not in that wagon in thirty seconds isn’t coming!”  Kirby shouted.  “Monsters and apocalyptic magic, heading this way!”

The party pulled wounded into the wagon.  Almost simultaneously, the opposite wall of the keep COLLAPSED as a squadron of low gorgons SMASHED through the walls.  Behind them, Indigo saw for the first time the onrushing wall of energy and wind.   Her eyes widened – gods, it had to be a quarter-mile high and _moving so d@mn fast_ –


----------



## LuYangShih

Cool story.  What happened to the other Heroes you mentioned in your summation of the previous campaign, though?  Were the two you listed the only survivors?


----------



## jonrog1

Rip was returned to Virginia with a plane-hopping Jastra.  Khal retired to his life of matrimony and caving (my personal PC's always have very simple goals ...).  Krug, having become the _smartest orc ever_, became the leader of the orcs of the Plains of Lede.  Anadale, of course, holds the restored Mithril throne.

The players were at first delighted to see their old characters as powerful NPC's.  They were almost immediatley less delighted when they realized their old epic level PC's were about to get them killed ...

What's it like being 6 hp cannon fodder now, eh lads?

*************************

Quick anecdote.  How geeky are we?  Ross, Andy and I walked out of a meetingin Hollywood recently.  Several very powerful execs were there, and one new low-level executive we'd never met before.  He sat silently during the entire meeting, until suddenly piping up near the end, simply so the bigwigs would hear his voice.  He was immediately, brutally stared down.

Walking out of this big-timey Hollywood meeting, I turned to Ross and Andy and asked "Who was the dude with four hit points?" 

And we all knew _exactly_ what I meant.

Suck on my dice, football heroes.


----------



## fenzer

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *Walking out of this big-timey Hollywood meeting, I turned to Ross and Andy and asked "Who was the dude with four hit points?"
> 
> And we all knew exactly what I meant.*




That makes me laugh, Jon.  My gaming chums and I are always thowing some D&Dism into our everyday conversations.

Thanks for the gaggle of updates.  I'm just getting caught up.  I love the shock wave and the gory fight sequences, great mind candy.


----------



## LuYangShih

Looks like a very cool campaign.  You describe a battle scene better than any other author here, IMO.  Your writing really draws you into the action.


----------



## jonrog1

*Ch. 4: “Wherein Alec proves his worth, and Taggart’s crotch begins to dry out.”*

“GO!” Taggart yelled.  Alec laid the whip to the team and the wagon bucked away.  Instantly they careened down a steep cliff path.  The wagon half-rolled, half-skidded down the narrow cliffside, almost torquing completely over the edge.  Alec gritted his teeth and forced the horses back under control.  It was a controlled fall, the horses hurtling straight down the ravine wall, the wagon bouncing madly.

Indigo looked behind them.  At the top of the ridgeline the monstrous army crested –

-- and was instantly BLOWN AWAY as the cyclone-force of the magic blast WASHED over the cliffs like a crashing tidal wave!  Everyone in the wagon bellowed madly as the crash of power and wind swirled down the ravine wall.  They gripped the wagon sides.  They were just yards ahead of the shock-wave-front!

Alec stood and HEAVED the reins to one side.  The wagon spun 90 degrees as the horses hauled them into a sheltered path in the cliffs, almost too narrow for the wagon to pass through.  Still moving at full run, mouths flecked with foam, the horses hurtled through the tiny crevasse.  The wagon SLAMMED against the crevasse walls, sections of it splintering away.

Kirby managed to right himself enough to look up.  High above them, wet THUNKS echoed as the men and beasts caught up in the magic blast bounced off the red-rock cliffs of the Blood Steppes.

Then, as abruptly as it had come, the blast passed.  The wagon was so deep into the overlapping rock spires, it was completely shielded from what was left of the arcane explosion.

Alec let the horses run on the momentum for a minute.  He slowly hauled back on the reins.  The horses yielded gratefully.  They slowed to a trot, then to a walk, then to a dead stop.  Weirdly, the only sound anyone could now hear was the squeak of the wagon wheels.  They stopped when the horses stopped.  The group sat in stunned silence.  If silence could echo, it would here.

Even the rain was gone.  A rain that had fallen every hour for three years, was just … gone.

Alec lay down on the driver’s slat.  Taggart popped his head over the edge of the wagon.  “So,” he deadpanned, “you any good with horses?”  

Alec just chuckled weakly.  He slung his legs over the wagon edge, sat up.  He ran his hand through his ragged blonde hair, surveying the wounded soldiers sprawled on the wagon floor.  His gaze suddenly stopped on the red-headed lieutenant the old soldier had been guarding.  None of the others heard his sharp hiss of a gasp.  His job was to know stories and recognize people.  And he certainly recognized this person.

Kirby rolled out of the wagon, dropped to the rock floor of the canyon.  He grunted as one knee gave out, banging his kneecap against the rock.  The adrenaline leeched from his system, leaving him a little woozy.  

Argent threw a grateful look to his brother and dove back into the wounded.  He searched his senses for a spark of the Goddess’ power.  He could find none.  He knew this was for his own protection – only so much of the gift was given as one learned to channel it without harm.  Still, Argent was frustrated at his limitations.  He’d have to rely on his skill with herbs to relieve the suffering around him.  

Taggart flipped over the wagon edge.  Kirby caught him and steadied him.  They listened.  “Weird, eh?” Kirby whispered.  “Quiet for the first time I can remember.  It’s a little bloody unsettling.”  He whistled.  The tone bounced off the rock walls.  “I didn’t know better, I’d think we were dead, or dreaming.” 

Indigo still sat in the wagon.  Her eyes were drawn to the man who’d fought next to Argent for a brief moment, fighting to protect one of his own despite his grievous wounds.  Indigo liked three things in this world: drinking, courage, and drunken courage.  She liked the cut of this man.  She was glad he’d live. 

For the first time she could see the Veshian soldier’s ward was a _girl_.  The young red-headed lieutenant was nineteen at the oldest.  Indigo jerked as the soldier grabbed her arm and hauled himself up.  He gurgled past his broken throat: “… cambragia …”

“I’m sorry,” said Indigo, “I’m not so much with the gasping and the cryptic muchness –“

“… get her …to Rupert … in cambragia … and *don’t use magic.*”


----------



## jonrog1

Thanks as always for all the support, everyone. I just turned in my last overdue first draft (an adaptation of Rucka's Queen & Country for you comic geeks), and I should be able to stay on a once-a-week update schedule for a while. 

A few other updates that may be of interest:

-- *The Core* opens March 28. Wrote that one, and saw it last week. It's a far cry from the dumbed-down sci fi of late; I think it lands smack-dab between Andromeda Strain and Fantastic Voyage. Hope you like it.

-- Work begins this week on my new gaming website. The Dark*Matter D20 group will be voting on a name, so assume it will involve monkeys of some sort.

When opened, the website will start with "Drop-ins": one-page ideas you can utilize no matter what D20 system you're using in order to add fun and variety.

I love the Spycraft system, so a lot of the first Drop-ins will be utilizing OGL sections from those rules. How to create even pulpier super-science items based on D&D spells but utilizing Gadget Points, a more streamlined requisition system for D20Modern called "What Form Do I Fill Out for the Gym Bag Full of Guns?" (which also shows you how to figure the Budget Points for your D20Modern PC so you can use the many Spycraft expansion books), etc. Most of the Drop-ins assume you have the relevant rules systems, but there will always be copious illustrative examples.

Any Drop-ins will always obey the one-page rule: no new rules should ever be brought to a game so complex they can't be boiled down into one page. GM's need to be able to shove a page to a PC and say "Here. Read."

Reviews of OGL concepts rather than products ("The Psi System you Should Be Using...") and a hit page of media to mine for gaming ideas will follow (comics to read, old movies, etc.).

After that, various free modules as samples (including Story Hour adventures) will lead to .pdf sales of adventures triple-configured for D20Modern, Spycraft system, and the upcoming Savage Worlds system by Pinnacle. (If you haven't downloaded the Test Drive Rules from Pinnacle's website, go now. Bloody elegant)

And then, concept books, taking advantage of the fact that my friends and I are writers first, game mechanics second. We spend our whole day coming up with cool locations to put fight scenes in movies. You GM's already have your plots -- what you need are locations and weird mechanics.

I hope that's of interest to you, and look forward to giving back to the hobby that's, frankly, kept me from killing anybody for the last two years.

John


----------



## Harp

Quick question -- is Argent a PC?  The other four I have figured out, but Argent has me stumped.

_Outstanding_ story hour, as usual.

By the way, you can't see me, but I'm actually rubbing my hands together with glee at the prospect of your new website.  Way, way too much potential coolness.

Also quite looking forward to 'The Core'.  Best of luck with that.

-- a former football hero that wishes he wrote like jonrog1


----------



## jonrog1

Yes, Argent is a PC.  Stephen from the Dark*Matter D20 group.  He just seems odd because he's burdened with scruples.

He's a Cleric of Madriel, with the Domain Powers of Sun and Plants.  

"_Plants?_ Who the hell chooses that Domain?"  I asked the same thing.  And damned if it didn't wind up saving all of them just a few beats farther down the line -- much to my chagrin ...


----------



## fenzer

Great update John.  I too wait with great anticipation for your new website.


----------



## Ruined

Wow, I'm surprised I missed this back in January. Must use that pesky Subscribe button...

jonrog1 + Scarred Lands = Much action-packed goodness!


----------



## Zarthon

Yet another great story hour


----------



## Hatchling Dragon

Damnation, I've stumbled across this SH _just_ as it's starting out.  *How* am I going to manage?!?  I've only read 2-3 posts and *BOOM*, I'm at the end and in "When's the next update!?  Well that's _too long_!" mode.  Well, at least I have that faint hope that there will actualy be a weekly update.

This is nearly as bad as reading the first of a novel set, only to discover that the next book (of 4) won't be out for a year.  Agony of the most pleasant sort.  I know, it's an odd concept, but we _are_ talking about *jonrog1*'s work here, so I think it appropriate!  

Hatchling Dragon


----------



## jonrog1

*Ch. 5: “Wherein our heroes get the first inklings of their tiny, annoying place in destiny’s web.”*

Indigo raised her eyebrows as the soldier gasped and passed out.  She pried the man’s hand off her arm and leaned over the wagon edge.  “Excusing me.  Does anyone know what Cambragia is?”

Kirby and Taggart shrugged, busy swishing wine around in their mouth to get the taste of rat-blood out.  Alec dropped to the ground beside them.  “Little supply town in the center of the Blood Steppes.  Barely existed before the war, but now …” he shook his head.  “It’s been behind enemy lines for all three years.  Probably no more than a smoking pile of cinders.”

“The grey-haired one said we should bring the girl to Cambragia.  And we shouldn’t use poofy magic to heal her.”

“Not much risk of that, at least not today,” Argent piped up from behind them.  He crossed to the comatose officer, checked her pulse.  “Goddess, she’s burning up though.  Her jaw’s locked …  and here –“ he pointed,  “ -- crossbow bolt wound, but it’s swollen …” Argent rocked back on his heels, stroked his goatee. “It looks like the wound’s been poisoned.”

Alec considered his newfound companions.  He knew Indigo was an Oathblade of Vesh.  Despite the rather … _unusual_ way she’d acquired that title, she was well known to be fanatically honorable.  Of dubious morality, but fanatically honorable.  Argent was plainly a dedicated cleric of Madriel.  The man had set up an aid station in the guts of the trenches.  Kirby and Taggart were the wild cards.  They plainly weren’t working for the Bandit King, and neither appeared Calastian.  He decided to risk it.   “Well then, I suggest we continue on to Cambragia, for two reasons.  First, if it is still intact, it’s the closest spot of civilization away from the front lines.”

“But in the wrong direction from the front lines,” Indigo objected.

“If there is even a front line.  Or a war,” Kirby continued. “The center of the battlefield’s got a mile-wide smoking crater in the middle of it.”

“So what if the titanspawn army lost its leadership?” Taggart asked, shrugging out of his stolen armor.  He pulled his Termana duster back on, instinctively shifted his weight back and forth to get the feel of the weighted coat-edge.  “There’s still a couple thousand of the unholy things crawling over every cliff between us and Vesh.  Plus, they’ll be royally ticked off.” 

“If Cambragia still exists, then it’s a strongpoint in a wilderness, and not a bad place to be.  Second, if Cambragia is the key to saving her life, then we need to get there.  Because we do not want that lieutenant dying on our watch.”  The others stared at the girl, shrugged.  Alec finished: “That’s *Vivian Godwyn*.  She’s the youngest daughter of the Lord of Vesh, fourth in line to the Throne.  And now she’s our bloody responsibility."

"Wait a second," Taggart interrupted. "We didn't sign on to play healer to royal brats in over their heads."

"We technically didn't sign on for anything," Kirby reminded him.  Taggart waved him off.

Alec sighed.  "Use your brains for just one moment.  *What* exactly do you think will happen to anyone who lets a royal heir die from poison?”

There was a long, thoughtful pause.  Almost on cue, all five swung back into the wagon.  Alec took the driver’s spot, lifted the reins.  “Cambragia it is then.”


******************************


It took them two days of hacking through the ravines and gullies of the Blood Steppes to find Cambragia. The rain was gone, but steel-grey clouds still scudded across blue skies, all over the dark red rocks of the Steppes.  One couldn't ask for a more beautiful land to die in.

Kirby was riding up front with Alec.  His preternatural eyes dilated.  "There, swing down into that valley.  Some sort of settlement."

Argent, exhausted, pulled himself up on the wagon interior to see.  Through sheer force of will, the blessings of Madriel and his cunning knowledge of local herbs, he'd managed to not lose a single injured soldier on the trip.   "I don't see --"

But as the wagon swung over the next ridge, a small settlement peeked out from the woods and rock.  They approached from the south, cresting a high ridge.  The opposite side of the canyon was a mile or two away, hemmed in by a massive 500 foot high red rock sheer wall.  A lazy river snaked along the bottom of the canyon, allowing thick forest to carpet the bottom of the canyon and even struggle up the cliff walls.

The settlement itself perched on the other side of the river, its back secured by the vast canyon wall.  At one time Cambragia must have been bigger -- they could see ruins of stone buildings scattered among the surrounding forest.  But what was left of Cambragia had retreated to a small clearing.  The village was surrounded by a fifteen-foot high wooden palisade wall on three sides, the canyon cliffs forming the fourth wall.  Charge-breakers, nettles of sharpened stakes as high as a man's chest, lay in staggered lines outside the walls.  A single gate faced a narrow bridge spanning the river.    

Indigo squinted.  "It has a certain rustic charm."

The wagon approached the settlement.  Suddenly, sentries on the walls cried out.  Just as they reached the edge of the bridge, a giant of a man rose from a blind set at the river's edge.

He stood well past six and a half feet tall, had to be two hundred forty pounds of sheer muscle.  He was blonde with the tribal scarring of Albadian savages coating his bare chest.  His warhammer was crude,  more like a blacksmith's hammer.   Both head and shaft of the hammer were  solid metal. 

Taggart whispered.  "That thing has to weigh a hundred pounds."  The giant man swung the hammer over one shoulder casually.  "Ah.  Time to make a new friend."

"I AM *OLAF*!" the man bellowed.  "WHO ARE YOU?!"

"Well whoever we are, we're not deaf," Kirby muttered.

Alec raised a hand. "I am Lars Derigesh --" the others frowned at his alias, but said nothing. " -- we bring wounded from the Iron Throne to your town for sanctuary."

Olaf laughed bitterly.  "We have no sanctuary here!  We are attacked every moon by titanspawn.  Our people starve, living off scraps of a garden within.  We do not know you.  Begone!"

Up on the gate and wall four archers appeared.  Their bows _creaked_ as  they were drawn back, arrows nocked. 

Kirby stood up, radiating charm.  "We bring tidings.  The war is over."

That got their attention.  The archers eased their bows.  A sharp yell from Olaf had them back at firing position immediately.  Olaf frowned.  "You lie, to get inside our walls."

"Haven't you seen, the rain has stopped," Alec pressed.  "We also bear a message for one called Rupert." 

Olaf frowned at this.  They could almost hear the huge gears in his head clunking along.  "We will let you in ..."  Olaf turned, and with a stunning display of strength he climbed the gate one handed, the other swing his massive warhammer.  He balanced atop the wooden barricade.  "... but know I have a hundred men inside, ready to strike you down!"

Olaf jumped into the village.  The party waited for the gates to creak open.  "He's lying, of course" Taggart whispered.

"How do you know?" asked Argent.

"Because we lie for a living," Kirby smiled.


*******************************


The inside of the village was a filthy, ruined mess.  The entire western section of the encampment was a shantytown of tents and hovels.  To the east were the remains of two streets of two-story townhouses.  Taggart noticed the gutted windows, the smoky fires from roof-kitchens, all tell-tale signs of dozens crammed into spaces meant for two or three.  The stench of an open sewage space slapped them in the face as they crossed into Cambragia.

Kirby pointed to the cliff wall.  "Look, charge-breakers at the base of the cliff, so if you're mad enough to rappel down that thing, you're skewered when you land."  He pointed to the walls.  "Walkways, sentries with fires every fifty feet, more spikes on the outside _and_ inside.  Bloody hell, you invade this place, you get a face full of arrows, ripped apart by the exterior spikes, then get trapped even when you get over the wall." He nodded to Olaf. "This fortification is incredible."

Olaf swelled with pride.  "When Olaf was young, Olaf used to burn down many villages like this one, kill the men, ravage the women, pillage, you know, blah blah blah ..." The party chuckled nervously.  "Olaf just built walls Olaf would hate to attack."

Here at the gate were three relatively intact buildings. To their immediate left was a patched Sheriff's office/jail.  One block behind that was a stub of a stone tower -- like a magician's tower with the top blown off.  Maybe three floors remained.  The building to their right was an inn.  Olaf kicked in the door.  "*Ronin!*"

The stubby barkeep, Ronin, emerged.   Before he could speak, Olaf swept everything off the nearest table.  "These people rescued Vesh soldiers!  We have wounded!"

The party set up a triage, laying soldiers on the tables.  Ronin began objecting, but his broad-sholdered Shelzari wife *Myrna* cut him off.  "I'll boil water.   *Zed!*"  At her shout a stringy 15 year-old boy rushed forward.  "Grab clean sheets and bring pails of water, fast as you can."  Some serving girls entered from the back, and Myrna immediately drafted them.

Argent lept into control.  He'd set up a hundred such treatment facilites during the war.  The others helped at first, but finally wound up backing away to the bar, staying out of his way.  Taggart watched his brother with ... "Kirby, what's the emotion, opposite of shame?  Like, not-shame."

"Um, pride?"

"I'll be damned."  Taggart fought a grin.

The front door slammed open.  To the party's astonishment, the figure filling the door ... didn't quite fill the door.   He was a _gnome_.  Not one of the savage tribesmen Taggart knew from Termana, but one of the educated dwarf-cousins of Ghelspad.  They were scribes, scholars, and most of all, spies extraordinaire.  Rumor had it there existed a Great Network of spies pervading all of Ghelspad, the Gnomes being its masters.

"I'm Rupert," the gnome snapped with an educated accent.  He wore a fine, gaudy bright-colored vest and breeches with a starch-white shirt.  He had corrective eye-lenses, a gnomish affectation.   Adding to his odd appearance was his right hand: it was entirely encased in a thick leather glove which plainly stretched up past that elbow.  "This had better be good."

Alec took the lead.  "This man --" he pointed to the older sargeant, "-- insisted we bring this girl --" he pointed to Vivian Godwyn, "-- to you.  She's been poisoned."

Rupert gazed at the sargeant. "Merrick, never do know when to quit." His expression softened.  He crossed to Vivian, coughed.  He plainly recognized her also.  He checked her crossbow wound.   "Oh dear.  All right.  We need to know how what's gotten into her." He produced a syphon from a small pack on his waist, filled it with her blood.

"Don't use magic," Indigo blurted.

Rupert smiled.  "No need to be so ... crude."  With that, he reached forward and removed the long glove on his right hand and arm.  Despite their worldliness, not one of the party didn't gasp.

His arm from the elbow down was a glass construct.  Within that construct whirred a thousand tiny pistons, valves, test-tubes, fluids and gears.  

It was a clockwork glass arm.  

The gnome was wearing his own prosthetic masterwork alchemist's lab.


----------



## Hatchling Dragon

First reply after an update on *two* threads, both by *jonrog1*?!?    Who'd a thunk it!

I wonder, does this mean there are twice the number of games going, or has one (prolly the Drunken Southern Girls one) ended, and you haven't yet caught up in the Story Hour?

Hatchling Dragon


----------



## jonrog1

Hatchling Dragon said:
			
		

> *First reply after an update on two threads, both by jonrog1?!?    Who'd a thunk it!
> 
> I wonder, does this mean there are twice the number of games going, or has one (prolly the Drunken Southern Girls one) ended, and you haven't yet caught up in the Story Hour?
> 
> Hatchling Dragon *




It means I have writer's block on my script.

And, actually, the Drunk Southern Girl game's been dormant for a while.  Figured I'd catch up, and try to get more current on the SL thread, as that's the onging game.  I'm going to update Pulp Spycraft, but as that's sadly the last chapter, I'm kind of hesitant.


----------



## Hatchling Dragon

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *The gnome was wearing his own prosthetic masterwork alchemist's lab. *




Gah!  I'll never be even half this creative if I live to be a hundred, and I don't think that's too likely to happen   I'm most definately stealing this little idea, far too cool a gadget for someone that likes tech-toys as much as I do.  Now to figure a way to get a character that _has_ one of these!

Go ahead and post the last bit of the Spycraft game, it's just plain cruel to keep all the avid fans in needless suspence.  It's going to end, prolonging the agony won't help any.  They need closure 

I should be able to scrape up the price of going to see *The Core* this weekend.

Hatchling Dragon


----------



## Ruined

You go ahead and steal the glass arm, Hatchling. I'm swiping this...  



			
				jonrog1 said:
			
		

> * "Olaf just built walls Olaf would hate to attack."
> *


----------



## jonrog1

GROUP BUMP 

trying to keep the updated SH clustered.


----------



## fenzer

Love Olaf.  Another great update, thanks John.


----------



## Arabesu

*Olaf, soon to be a troll?*

Great story hour. You have excellent writing and a wonderful group to play with. I am jealous. 

One quick question, is Olaf married to a waifish witch named Anyanka?

With appreciation.

Arabesu.


----------



## jonrog1

*Re: Olaf, soon to be a troll?*



			
				Arabesu said:
			
		

> *One quick question, is Olaf married to a waifish witch named Anyanka?
> 
> With appreciation.
> 
> Arabesu. *




God, I wish I'd thought of that.  But now you made me remember this is the last season of Buffy, and I must go cry in my special place.


----------



## Capellan

*Re: Re: Olaf, soon to be a troll?*



			
				jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *But now you made me remember this is the last season of Buffy, and I must go cry in my special place. *




's funny.  I cry because the last season wasn't two years ago ...

This SH, on the other hand, had better run a good, long time.  Several seasons would be nice.


----------



## wolff96

*Re: Olaf, soon to be a troll?*



			
				Arabesu said:
			
		

> *One quick question, is Olaf married to a waifish witch named Anyanka?*




Just because I have to be ridiculously anal about my favorite show...  when Olaf was married, it was to a girl named "Aud". She didn't gain the name Anyanka until she became a Vengance Demon -- D'Hoffryn gave her that name because it suited her soul.

-------------------------

Buffy trivia aside, this is an awesome story hour!  I haven't read any of your work before, jonrog, but now I'm going to have to go back and start...  so much for free time!


----------



## jonrog1

*CH. 6: "Wherein our heroes drink whiffy beer and grudgingly participate in a hoary plot device." *

Even Argent, pressed as he was to save the lives of the soldiers, paused to watch Vivian Godwyn's blood seep through needle-thin channels within Rupert's glass arm.  One by one, small dials turned.  One bit of the blood reached a tiny spinning gear and was split into a thicker red goo and a clear fluid.  Reactive parchments inserted  in the path of the blood smeared in rainbows of colors as impurities were drawn out --

"BLOODY HELL!  Boiling water NOW!"  Rupert grabbed a pot from a passing servant girl.   With his teeth he flipped open a purge valve below his shoulder and flooded the arm with the scalding water.  He waited until every bit of the  young woman's blood was thoroughly washed from his system.  His mild voice was back.  "Going to take me two days to reset this thing."  He sighed, gestured the party to the bar. "Right, you know what spell-resistance is?"

Most of the group shrugged.  Alec nodded.  "Some creatures are unaffected by the energies of Mesos, the fallen titan of magic."

"Precisely.   I'm thinking of relatives of the Asathi in particular, the Yuan-ti.  Anyway ..." Rupert poured what was left of the boiling water from the pot into a teacup. " ... someone's combined yuan-ti blood with a neuro-toxin, and then _altered_ it.  Not only is the poison resistant to magical healing, magical energies set of a chain reaction within the toxin, accelerating its effects."

Indigo nodded.  Then she shook her head. "I know those were sentences, because you stopped at the end.  But what?"

Kirby gestured for the barkeep, Ronin, but answered Indigo.  "Magic kills her faster.  Rupert here's got to go  _gnomo-a-mano_ with his alchemical abilites."  When the pudgy bartender arrived Kirby flipped down a few gold coins he'd pulled off dead men on the battlefield.  "Whatever you've got that passes for beer."  Ronin's eyes widened with almost supernatural delight.  Clutching the gold like a secret lover, he scurried away.

"I can't beat that toxin, not with what I've got here."  Rupert looked to Alec again.  "I'm going to do research.  Can you think of anything?"

Alec sighed.  Most people had no idea what it meant to draw on bardic lore.  Hundreds of years of information were encoded in mnemonic devices and stories, to be unraveled when needed.  But once he tugged one end, he'd have to plow through all of it in a semi-hypnotic state.  After his time on the battlefield and the journey ... but he simply nodded.  "Going to need a room."

"I think we can handle that, mates!" Ronin was back with three pitchers of a semi-solid, muddy orange beer.  It ... _glopped_ as it fell into their glasses.  "Bringing such fine news and heroism, asy'are, and coinage too, we'll give you the finest Cambragia has to offer."

Rupert left to begin his research.  The party, exhausted, all took a long sip of their beers.  They stopped, stared into the mugs.  "It has a ... musty aftertaste," ventured Taggart.

"Well, we dinnae have much room here in the encampment, so we ferment it back with the fertilizin' pond Rupert set up."  Ronin grinned at his ingenuity.

It took them a moment.  "We're drinking sh*t beer," Taggart said flatly.  

Ronin shrugged. "Would nae say that.  It's just beer, but with a healthy cut of manure in the barley mix, and a bit o' methane in the tubs."

The group looked at each other.  Then, as one, they shrugged too.  Three years of warfare.  Beer was beer.


******************************


Taggart pulled at his brother's robes.  "Come on, its past midnight.  At least eat."  The rest of the party was resting.  The innkeeper and  his wife were abed.   Only the eager scullery-boy Zed was up.  He waited at Taggart's side, vibrating with hero worship.  

Argent finally let himself be pulled away from the wounded. He sat at the bar.  He tasted the bread, then guiltily chawed it down.  "I knew you were alive."

"Well, you were almost wrong more times than I can count."  Taggart rummaged around for tobacco.  Zed immediately presented him with a filled pipe.  "I see the orphanage lessons of the Sisters of Madriel took."

"Not just their lessons, blessed as they are.  From them I took my spiritual path.  But once I was out in the world, well ..."  Argent nodded to the short-spear leaning against the wall.  "What was it that Mother Elizabeth always said?"

"'You can get more with a sharp blade and a kind word than a kind word alone,' I believe," Taggart chuckled.  "How old was she when she finally passed?"

"Still alive."

"No bloody way.  She'd be a wight by now."  Taggart put his feet up on a table, leaned back.  A comfortable silence descended.  "Gods, weren't for the scar tissue on my back and that ridiculous beard of yours, you'd think I never left."

"Family's that way," Argent answered.  

Taggart was about to snap something back, but he just let it sit.  _He may have something there ..._ "So what holy mission have you accepted in the Goddess's name?"

Argent swelled a bit.  "I hunt the undead."

Taggart swelled a bit too.  Pretty tough job that, and his brother ... well, they wrote stories about such men.  "And your second discipline?"

At that Argent hesitated.  "You know, the land has suffered greatly under the war."

Taggart cocked his head. "Oh, healing or some such?  Of course, the aid station --"

"We'll never rebuild the beauty of Ghelspad for the Goddess without considering her bountiful nature.  And look at the damage the blood of Mormo has wrought, the Haggard Hills, the Hornsaw Forest ..."

Taggart clued in.  Argent stared at him, _daring_ him to say anything.  Taggart knew he shouldn't.

But it was his brother.

"Your second domain is _*plants*_?"  Argent gritted his teeth as Taggart laughed and laughed.   Oh, he'd apologize later.  But for now, he'd enjoy coming up with elf-sounding girlie nicknames to torment Argent. 


******************************


Dawn broke bright the next morning.  More of the surviving villagers of Cambragia clustered around the inn. Although they had nothing to do with the end of the supernatural raintorms, the party's arrival was now linked with the village's relief.  Taggart was at the bar eating Myrna's surprisingly good pancakes, watching his brother check up on his patients.  Kirby and Alec thudded down the stairs from the second-floor boarding rooms.  Taggart rolled his eyes.  Somehow, even in a wrecked village in a war zone, Kirby had found someone to wash and starch his velvet vest and crisp white shirt.  Even his boots were shined.  His long coat was mended and folded crisply over one arm.  Kirby could have walked straight out of that  wrecked shell-hole and into the finest gaming house in Darakeene.

"How'd you sleep?" Taggart asked Kirby.

"Couldn't sleep on the bed," Kirby frowned.  "Too many months in the dirt.  Wound up sleeping on the floor.  Where's the Oathblade?"

"Outside, doing her blade-dance.  Sword's almost as big as she is."  Taggart seemed thoughtful as he crammed more stale bread inot his mouth. "Aren't Oathblades supposed to be Veshian royalty?  She doesn't seem the part."

Alec tested the Shelzari coffee.  Hmmph, must be a side benefit of a Shelzari inn-keeper.  Finding it flavorless but pleasantly filth-free, he gulped it.  "Indigo won it through trial of combat." He smiled at their surprise.  "Yes, just a merchant family, and a young woman no less, toe to toe with a dozen full-blood warriors and she was the last standing.  Only happened twice in the last century.  That story was why I was looking for her in the trenches --"

"The apple."  They turned to see Rupert standing behind and below them.  He was looking to Alec for confirmation. 

Alec nodded.  In a voice eerily similar to the bard from whom he'd learned the story, he repeated: _*"Not of magic nor of gods, matter mixed to perfect pitch, balanced both life and death within a single twisted limb ..."*_

Rupert waved him off.  He paused as Indigo entered.  She was pulling her white blouse on over her leather bustier-armor.  If she'd been doing her sword exercises like that, no wonder there'd been a crowd ... "The gods or fate smile on us.   Alchemists write of an apple which when consumed can cure any illness.  The apple is not magical -- its power is all contained in its breeding and perfect alchemical balance.  That apple was sold once a year in a remote village called Oakhurst."  He paused for effect.  "Remote to the rest of Ghelspad, as it was situated in the Blood Steppes.  Four days southeast from here."

Argent bowed his head.  "Blessed be the wisdom of Madriel who has led us here to this refuge of all refuges, where one so knowledgeable --"

Taggart responded around another mouthful of pancakes.  "Enjoy your trip to Oakhurst.  I'm sure it's another charming smoking ruin in the wastes."  Argent punched him in the shoulder. "OWW!  Whaaattt?"

Alec pulled out a map of the Blood Steppes.  "You know, one of the mysteries of the war was why the Bandit King never swung south towards Calastia.  Oakhurst may have been within the protected zone."

"There should be a sizable reward," Rupert continued.

"From a royal family who can't even rescue their youngest daughter from behind titanspawn lines, they're supposed to find us and PAY us?"  Taggart shook his head.  "No bloody way --"

Argent took him by the shoulders.  "Brother, this is why fate returned us to each other.  This is why we found this girl."

"Oh, I'm supposed to rescue her?"

"No.  But I'm going for that apple.  A quest I would certainly not survive alone.   You're here so you can keep me alive."

Taggart bit off his sarcastic retort. Kirby piped in.  "You know, it would be nice if the last ten years of our lives involving slavery, torture, and learning the dark ways of crime, stealth and brutal close-up fighting  were somehow justified as training for this moment."  Taggart stared at him.  "I know, I know, ridiculous.  But I would sleep easier."

Indigo didn't even pause.  She took the map, headed out the door.  "The old soldier rests because he believes I guard his young charge.  This I cannot betray.  Also, how long has it been since the battle?"

"Half a tenday," Alec answered.

"I hate to go an entire week without killing something.  I get rusty.  I'll be back with the horses."


*****************************


And so, a half-hour later, with what was left of Cambragia cheering at their backs, the party rode out from Olaf's obsessively murderous gates and into the blinding blood-red cliffs of the Steppes.  Argent and Indigo rode at the head, Argent proudly riding tall in his saddle, shining spear at the ready.  Alec was in the center scribbling in his notebook.  Kirby and Taggart brought up the rear, cloaks and dusters wrapped around them.  The front of the party looked as if it were on parade.  The rear stunk of smuggler's habits.

Alec chuckled.  "What?" Taggart grumbled.

"We're a party of adventurers who just accepted a job while at an inn."  Alec shook his head.  "Going to have to change this when I tell the story.  No one's going to believe it actually happened."


----------



## KidCthulhu

Oooh. An update, and on my birthday, no less.  Thanks, JonRog.


----------



## Harp

Hoary plot device or no, this update is the most fun I've had all week.

"...obsessively murderous gates..."  I love dis place!

So when can we see the gang in the Rogue's Gallery?  I'm having only the slightest trouble keeping them straight.


----------



## wolff96

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *"We're a party of adventurers who just accepted a job while at an inn."  Alec shook his head.  "Going to have to change this when I tell the story.  No one's going to believe it actually happened." *




It's quotes like this one that have addicted me to yet another story hour.

Thanks, jonrog1, for making something so much fun to read.


----------



## Fulcan

*Great Scarred Lands flavor*

jonrog-

I've enjoyed all of the Scarred Lands SH's, but so far I think the flavor you have created with your SH is dead on what I was imagining while reading the source books.  Thanks for taking this on and keep it coming.

Thanks.


----------



## Zarthon

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *"We're a party of adventurers who just accepted a job while at an inn."  Alec shook his head.  "Going to have to change this when I tell the story.  No one's going to believe it actually happened." *




Classic


----------



## jonrog1

Harp said:
			
		

> *So when can we see the gang in the Rogue's Gallery?  I'm having only the slightest trouble keeping them straight. *




It's the Alec/Argent thing -- got me too for a while and I was running the darn game.  Well,  seeing as the group just this week actually went through some membership changes, I don't want to dig out the originals, but here's a handy scorecard.  In order of appearance:

*TAGGART* -- the guy with the duster and the punch-blade.  Perpetually annoyed, instinctively suspicious.  Not a heart of gold, but rare gold-like leanings.  Ran away from the Madrielite orphanage and wound up in heaploads of trouble from Mithril to Termana with a bout of brutal slavery thanks to the Charduni. (*Charduni* for you non-Scarred Lands fans are dwarves who worship the LE god Chardun, warped by his dark energy into onyx-skinned warriors.)  After years of stealing magic items, he's now halfway-decent at activating them.   Said to resemble that captain fella from _*Firefly*_. (... cancelled ... must fight .. urge to kill ...)  A rogue through and through, and in the Taggart/Kirby crime team, he's the lock-picker/trap cracker.  In any succesful criminal team, you have the knock-in guy and --

*KIRBY* -- the faceman.  He and Taggart are the perfect example of how a basic character archetype can be executed in two completely different ways.  Charming, slick, devious, and a much more cheerful guy than his partner in crime.  He actually_does_ have a heart of gold, as long as he can figure some way to scam some of that gold for himself.  Kirby's got some exotic blood in him, just enough to make him the best-looking guy you've ever seen.    His flaw is that he's always a little _too_ put together.  Like a TV weatherman.

*INDIGO* -- The same accent of  Inigo Montoya from _*The Princess Bride*_, but that's where the resemblance ends.  Her sword's an inherited bastard sword almost as tall as she is.  It's an _Oathblade_, one of a limited number of swords belonging to the royal families of Vesh.  Some are magical, some exhibit strange abilities only in the hands of the proper owners.  Indigo's from middle-class merchant stock, so the question of how exactly she got her hands on this without stealing it is an interesting story.

Indigo's only armor is a reinforced leather bustier she wears over or under her blouse, depending on the mood, and a long dark kilt-skirt cut she can move.  Indigo drinks, smokes, dances and gambles like there's no tomorrow, and her only quest seems to be testing her limits as a tornado of death.  She knows what she likes, knows what she hates, and does good deeds when the whim strikes her.  The whim just rarely strikes her for free.

*ARGENT*: Taggart's long-lost twin brother.  He stayed in the Madriel orphanage and became a cleric of the Goddess.  He's got the shining wings of Madriel tattoed on his back, wears a white chain shirt, the whole deal.  He's devoted to the aspects of nature in Madriel's worship -- he hunts the undead primarily because they're unnatural, not because they're evil.  He recently set out to make a difference in the world.  Once in the War, he discovered he'd have to play a lot harder ball than he was expecting.  Unlike the rest of his party, he has a VERY highly developed moral sense.  Description: shaved head, goatee, white short-spear, white chain shirt.

*ALEC WOLFSBANE*:  The bard who doesn't sing.  Tall, blonde, kind of alt-rocker good looking (this is actually a plot point later, don't think I"m getting all gooey).  He uses his bardic talents of information gathering to act as a battlefield reporter and spy.  He's got a nice little forgery kit, a packet of false ID papers under different names,   and a tube of secret maps lifted from the militaries of the continent.  He wears a foreign-designed lute on his back that gives off a rougher, bassier sound than most instruments but at this point all anyone's seen him do is tune it.

THE NPC'S:

*RUPERT*:  the glass-armed gnome who'd retired to Cambragia just in time for the war.  After the first wave of attacks he became the brains while Olaf was the brawn.  He's Rupert Giles from _*Buffy*_, just three and a half feet tall.  You get the idea.

*OLAF*: Olaf's voice is always dialed up to eleven.  He's an Albadian raider with a dodgy past who's taken to blacksmithing as a past-time.  To his surprise he both likes the craft and likes the town he settled in -- Cambragia, which was conveniently located far from any organized law enforcement.  Olaf now defends Cambragia with the same single-minded ferocity with which he pillaged.

*RONIN, MYRNA and ZED*:  Ronin is the owner of what's left of the only tavern in Cambragia. Despite his good heart, Ronin's not quite smart enough to know he's not as smart as he thinks he is, and hence a danger to himself and his wallet.  Every idea is the "best idea EVER".  It always involves bragging in that soft brogue of his, expanding the business in some idiotic way, and almost always fails.  His Shelzari wife Myrna is practical, steadfast, and keeps the place going on sheer willpower alone.  Zed is not their son, but a war orphan Myrna thinks of as her own.  Most of the staff at the inn are war orphans Myrna's taken in as a foster family.

Thanks for the feedback.  I'm sure some have guessed what adventure the group is on, and so know who the group'll be running into soon ...


----------



## wolff96

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *I'm sure some have guessed what adventure the group is on, and so know who the group'll be running into soon ... *




Actually meant to comment on that earlier... love the set-up. It's vaguely similar to the one I used to get my group involved -- though my endangered nobleman's daughter wasn't in the middle of a war.

I'm looking forward to seeing how my favorite NPC might be altered by his presence in the Scarred Lands.


----------



## Harp

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *
> It's the Alec/Argent thing -- got me too for a while and I was running the darn game.  Well,  seeing as the group just this week actually went through some membership changes, I don't want to dig out the originals, but here's a handy scorecard.
> *



_Outstanding_.  That's exactly what I needed.  Many thanks.



> *Said to resemble that captain fella from Firefly. (... cancelled ... must fight .. urge to kill ...)*



Tell me about it, brother.  As much as I respect the hue and cry over the cancellation of _Farscape_, _Firefly_ hit me much harder.  But I suppose that's a subject for another forum entirely...



> *"Your second domain is plants?"  Argent gritted his teeth as Taggart laughed and laughed.   Oh, he'd apologize later.  But for now, he'd enjoy coming up with elf-sounding girlie nicknames to torment Argent.
> *



I forgot to comment on this before.  I'm amazed at the way you can take an innocuous little mechanic like domain selection and make it an integral, relationship-defining part of the story.  Anyone who claims gaming fiction isn't worth the bits its written with should be directed here, right here.


----------



## Zarthon

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> * Said to resemble that captain fella from Firefly. (... cancelled ... must fight .. urge to kill ...) *




Now this bothers me a great deal  Firefly has just started here in South Africa infact I watched  the second episode on Tuesday and I am really enjoying it.

When you say cancelled do you mean they stopped making the show?


----------



## Harp

Zarthon said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Now this bothers me a great deal  Firefly has just started here in South Africa infact I watched  the second episode on Tuesday and I am really enjoying it.
> 
> When you say cancelled do you mean they stopped making the show? *




So as not to hijack this terrific story thread, I'll just direct you to a couple of other relevant threads on the Fantasy & Sci-Fi Books, Movies and TV board:

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=47078

http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=39869

I feel your pain.


----------



## KidCthulhu

JonRog, interesting that you should set your group up with a Giles.  My Scarred Lands group has recently come under the tutelage of a bookish, intellectual noble, who is the director of their secret Vigil Cohort.  The group brought him home some new, interesting books after their last adventure, and as I was conveying his flustered, eager thanks, Pkitty was asking me if he wears pants, and calling him Ripper.

Sheesh.  Give people a nice, comforting NPC, and they get all snippy on you.


----------



## fenzer

Thanks for the update, John.



> *Olaf's voice is always dialed up to eleven.*





I love this.


----------



## coyote6

I'd like to get this out of the way early, and officially blame KidCthulhu for all the wailing, gnashing of teeth, and other anxiety-driven behaviors I will be forced to engage in while waiting for updates to this story hour.

I mean, I've managed to avoid being sucked into jonrog's stories because I _knew_ I'd be sucked in and then have to wait (can I blame Hollywood for that?). But I see Last Reply: KidCthulhu, and just casually decide to click and read, and then the next thing I know, I'm clicking "Subscribe to this thread." Argh!

Good stuff, John. Now, update again. Or go get a job writing for Mutant Enemy or something.


----------



## jonrog1

*CH. 7: "Wherein our heroes bask in the glory of an iconic figure, and find it leaves something to be desired."*

The party crested yet another one of the infinite blood red ridges.  Yet more vast stone mesas rose before them.  Indigo leaned back in her saddle.  Up, down, up down, four damn days of this ... bah.  She'd kill to have enough straight ground to get a good canter going.

As if in answer to her silent gripe, pounding hoofbeats echoed up from the bottom of the nearest ravine.  Two horses at full tilt.  The group exchanged glances and stagger-stepped their mounts to the dry riverbed.   Just as Indigo and Argent reached level ground, the first horseman thundered around the bend.  He was in the uniform of a Veshian Army Messenger.  Indigo raised a hand.

"Hail and well --" the man and horse rushed past.  "-- well met.  Am I saying it wrong?"

The reason for the Messenger's panic became rounded the bend a moment later.  A second messenger, screaming as his horse collapsed under him.  His horse was going down because its legs were _gone_, suddenly ripped away by a pack of ... something.  Before he hit the ground one of the beast rocketed from  the ground and took the man in the shoulder.  The two hit the ground hard.

The group swung down from their horses to help.  The man looked up, made eye contact with Indigo and screamed again --

-- as the furry dog-babboon on its back snarled and with vast jaws TORE the man's shoulder clean away from his back.  Muscle and bone splintered like the man was an overcooked duck.  Another one fo the creatures hit the man's leg at full speed.  It was five paces past before Indigo realized it now had the man's shin in its mouth.

"Oh bloody hell," Alec shuddered.  He unslung his bow.   "Barrow Mawgs.  A whole pack of them"

"Like land piranha but faster and hungrier!"  Argent leapt to the nearest low tree branch and heaved himself up.   He cranked his crossbow.

Indigo had instinctively drawn her Oathblade, but what could she do?  The man's cries gurgled in his throat as his chest blew open from behind, a barrow mawg's snout ripping clean through him.

To her amazement, Taggart leapt past her.  "This'll be interesting," he  muttered.

Taggart landed square in the wet stain that used to be a man.  He spun his coat around, punchblade flashing.  He scored once, twice, slicing into the Barrow Mawgs even as he spun.  But he suddenly found himself backed against the stone wall.  His remarkable agility curtailed, he felt the dagger-fangs of the mawgs trying to crunch through the heavy leather coat.  Sweat broke out on his forehead.  "Okay, bit more of a workout than I was hoping ..."

A few quick HISSES ... fletched arrows PUNCHED through the abominations' sides.  The mawgs whilred, jaws snatching at air.  Up close a barrow mawg could saw through a man's thigh in two seconds.  But against archers they were defenseless. In another heartbeat all was quiet.  Taggart let out a long, slow breath, poking one of the beasts with his boot. 

 Argent shouldered his crossbow and approached.  "What were you THINKING?"

"He wasn't," smiled Kirby. "He calls it strategy.  It's terrifying, really.  He plays cards the same way."

The other messenger returned now that the danger had passed.  It turned out he was an Outrider, sent to find wayward military units.  The front line was still indeed one vast free-for-all, but technically the Bandit King was dead and the war was over.  There was just, oh, two decades of brutal clean-up work to do.  Wild, huge packs of predators like the barrow mawgs were flooding the Steppes, bloated with corpse-food.

Alec scribbled out a note, pressed it into the man's pocket.  "To an agent of  Lady Gillian Godwyn, and no one else.  It'll mean your commission."  With a broad grin the man rode off. Alec turned ot the others.  "Letting the royal family know where Lady Vivian is.

"What if he's intercepted?"  Argent asked.

Alec shook his head.  "Vesh royal intelligence uses a tricky little cipher.  I happen to have ... borrowed it a while back.  Lord Godwyn's next oldest daughter is head of his spy services.  She alone will understand."

Kirby stepped easily into his stirrup, lifted himself to peer into the distance.  "Good news.  Cooking fires. The town of Oakhurst must be close."

*****************************

Oakhurst was remarkably unscathed.  A few full orchards cradled the thriving marketplace and wooden houses.  The party stared in amazement as rather unhurried villagers waved at their arrival.  "They've had almost no war at all," Argent said.

"Smarter to be lucky than lucky to be smart." Taggart waved down a stable boy and discovered that the local mayor, one *Madam Hucrele*, was holding court at the nearby town council house.  Less than five minutes later they were standing before the lwoman.  She was stout, older, and pale.  Her eyes were tight and drawn.  To her left stood *Felosial*.  This woman was the half-elf sherriff/ranger who'd kept the security of the town during the war.  Alec acted as their mouthpiece. He offered greetings from Cambragia, then eased his way to --

"-- the apple."  Hucrele pursed her lips.  "Wish I'd never seen the thing." She paused.  "Norman and Roland ..."

Felosial waited.  When it was plain Hucrele wouldn't continue, she picked up the tale.  "Fifteen years ago, about the time of the liberation of Canterhaven.  Old alchemist sets up in the ruins, about a half-day away."

"Ruins of what?" Alec asked.  He was already constructing the memory link to this alteration of his mind maps.

"Before the dragons disappeared, there were humans who worshipped them as Gods.  One of the old temples   is carved into the wall of the box canyon past the winter ridge."  Felosial shuddered.  Dragon cults hadn't been around for centuries, but they still had a nasty reputation. 

"Dragons are back," Taggart said.

Felosial nodded.  "Some, indeed have freed themsleves from the rift in Termana.  But not many.  And those worshipped, they were the truly Old Ones."  The half-elf sipped her nut-tea.  "They were indeed as powerful as the gods in their youth.   But back to the old man.  Soon, he began his tradition -- once a year he arrives, and asks Oakhurst to host the auction of his apple.  This healing apple.  There is only ever one, and he's certainly been offered the sun and moons for more than that so I must believe that's all he can produce in a year."

Hucrele jumped in.  "This year, he didn't come.  A passing paladin of Corean, *Sharwyn*, offered to lead an expedition into the ruins to see if theold man was all right."  She paused.  "My two sons were in that group.  None have returned."

"How long ago?" Indigo asked.

"A tenday."

"Then there's hope," Argent assured her.

Inidgo stared at him.  "What? Are you nuts?  It's a half a day away.  Of course they're dead, or maybe crippled and trapped -- " Indigo heard the room grow deathly quiet.  She sighed.  "I'm doing it again, with the honesty, yes?"

*****************************

The next dawn the group set out along the well-worn trail to the box canyon.  They'd almost reached the place when human voices echoed up to their trail.  They cut down through the rush until they could find a decent spot to survey the canyon bed.

A massive set of stone stairs were cut into the orange hoodoo rock of the canyon wall.  A bas-relief dragon head some fifteen feet high surrounded a pair of stone doors sealed shut across the dragon's mouth.  At the base of the stairs was some sort of transient camp ...

"Gods, look ..." Argent gasped.  "Draconic humans!  An ancient dragon cult -- alive!"

Sixty or so men, women and children milled between makeshift tents and lean-tos.  Taggart spotted some fresh burial mounds nearby.  The people looked like any other small campground but for their bizarre appearnce.  Even from here, the gorup could see the cross-hatch markings of scales covering their arms and faces!  When one woman spoke, her tongue split in a shallow, blunt fork!

"Unholy spawn!" hissed Argent.  "What foul magics --"

"You mean 'what pathetic losers'," Indigo continued calmly.  "Look closer."

It suddenly dawned on them.  These people weren't blessed as some sort fo half-breeds.  They'd ... _cut_ themselves, hundreds and hundreds of times, to LOOK like dragon-kin.  They'd crammed fake horns into their skulls.  Split their own tongues.

"Our mysterious dragon-cult are a bunch of deluded self-mutilating idiots." Taggart rocked back on his heels.  "That is so disappointing."

"There's an awful lot of them," muttered Alec.

"They're armed with sticks," Indigo said.  "Some of them aren't even pointy sticks.  I could defeat this entire camp with a bag of rocks and a harsh word."

"I do wonder why they're camped out here and not in the temple ruins.

Kirby pointed. "Look.  That clearing.  They keep bringing gifts to that small , seated figure in the elegant robes."  Kirby rose, started toward the clearing.

"What's he doing?" Indigo asked.

"He's going to pretend to be a new recruit to the cult and pump their leader for information," Taggart answered lazily.  The others all objected at once, but he waved them down.  "Kirby lies for a living like you and I eat.  Trust me, he'll be running the place in a minute and a half."

******************************

Kirby sidled up to the figure.  He was ... quite small.  Despite the gifts from the cult, he wept into his tiny hands.  Errr ... paws.  Little scaly claws, really.

The cult leader glared up.  His nictating eyelid rolled over gooey tears.  "Who are you?"

"Oh, you know me, I've just arrived!"  Kirby just smiled.  He didn't know why everything sentient believed any half-assed answer that popped out of his mouth.   They just did.  The figure squinted his eyes dubiously, snifflled.  "What's wrong, o mighty one?"

"What's wrong? * What's wrong?!*" The cult leader gestured to an empty small, battered metal cage.  "The disciples in black came to use our library, and they gave us our dragon.  Now filthy dwarves have dragon!  They came here from war, took over home -- " the cult leader gestured to the ruined temple, "-- and TOOK OUR DRAGON!"  This sent the small figure back into paroxysms of tears.  Alarmed by their leader's distress, some of the cultists rushed forward with scrabbly desert fruit and honey-sick wine.  They stared at Kirby, but plainly their leader's acceptance of him answered all questions.  

Kirby wrestled with what he'd learned.  _Ridiculous.  Nobody goes about handing out small dragons.  This entire cult's probably been worshipping a polymorphed dog._  The bit about dwarves was too familiar --  Kirby gritted his teeth. _Charduni.  Great.  If Taggart finds out ..._  Kirby watched as the kobold cult leader raised his claw to the sky and shook an angry fist.

"MEEPO JUST WANTED TO MAKE NICE!"


----------



## daemonictutor

LOL
Meepo rulez!
What a splendid idea to have human cultist 'worship' a kobold. At least I think he's a kobold and his name sounds awfully familiar.
Ok, back to lurking.


----------



## Morte

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> "MEEPO JUST WANTED TO MAKE NICE!" [/B]




Promising, very promising.

Enjoying the writing, characters, setting, and deviations from the norm here...

*hunkers down, gets ready for more*


----------



## fenzer

Great update John.


----------



## fenzer

Damn double post.


----------



## KidCthulhu

> *It suddenly dawned on them. These people weren't blessed as some sort fo half-breeds. They'd ... cut themselves, hundreds and hundreds of times, to LOOK like dragon-kin. They'd crammed fake horns into their skulls. Split their own tongues.
> 
> "Our mysterious dragon-cult are a bunch of deluded self-mutilating idiots." Taggart rocked back on his heels. "That is so disappointing."*





Been going to Vampire: The Posing LARPs lately, or just one too many Star Trek conventions?

Love, love, love Meepo.  Poor little guy.  He only wanted to be loved.


----------



## Henry

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *Kirby watched as the kobold cult leader raised his claw to the sky and shook an angry fist.
> 
> "MEEPO JUST WANTED TO MAKE NICE!" *




Oh, for the love of Krtulmak.

Don't tell me it's THAT adventure?!

Ah, heck. I'm hooked. Bring it on, Hollywood Muse!


----------



## coyote6

Henry said:
			
		

> *Don't tell me it's THAT adventure?!
> *




What, Oakhurst and the apple didn't give it away?

Edit: BTW, this looks like the start of an amazing adaptation.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Someone want to whisper in my ear what adventure this is?  Always looking for a good one.  

Thank goodness none of my players read this thread.  I have one who currently wants to be a Dragon Disciple PrC, and I'm definitely stealing the dragon fan boys.  Yoink!  I'll give you screen credit, JonRog.  (Screen credit being me holding up a piece of paper during the game.)


----------



## Hatchling Dragon

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Someone want to whisper in my ear what adventure this is?  Always looking for a good one.*




You've got to be kidding, _right_?  Oh, wait, that's right, you have one of *those* DM's, the ones that most of us only hear about from time to time.  The rest of you know what I mean, creative types, usualy working on the pre-req's for becoming Rat-Bastard PrC-DM's 

It's the first of the _Adventure Path_ modules from WotC:  *The Sunless Citadel*, but it's already been heavily modified.  I'm going to go out on a limb here 'n say it's only just the beginning of the changes.  *jonrog*'s pretty handy at that whole RBDM thing too I've noticed, should make for an interesting read.  

Hatchling Dragon


----------



## Harp

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *Kirby sidled up to the figure.  He was ... quite small.  Despite the gifts from the cult, he wept into his tiny hands.  Errr ... paws.  Little scaly claws, really.
> 
> The cult leader glared up.  His nictating eyelid rolled over gooey tears.  "Who are you?"
> *



Revel in the imagery!

It took me a while, but I eventually caught onto the _Sunless Citadel_ connection.  But it's all good to me.  I've every confidence that jonrog1's adaptation of _Orc and Pie_ would be as just as much fun to read.  Bring it on.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Thanks, guys.  Actually, it's not so much that PC is a rat bastard, it's that he forbids me to read game source materials.  Or anything.  He thinks readin' makes a woman uppity.  

No, seriously.  I just don't read much game material.  There are only so many hours in the day for reading, and so much better stuff to read.

Sorry for suborning your thread, JonRog.  I now return you to your regularly scheduled goodness.


----------



## Iron Chef BBQ

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Thank goodness none of my players read this thread.  I have one who currently wants to be a Dragon Disciple PrC,  *




How do you know what threads your players read?  

Sorry, Kid, thought I should let you know.  I only found this thread today, and oddly, because I saw you had posted to it.

Chef.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Dang.  Well, read away, but don't expect my campaign to get this cool.


----------



## Pants

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *
> "They're armed with sticks," Indigo said.  "Some of them aren't even pointy sticks.  I could defeat this entire camp with a bag of rocks and a harsh word."
> *



*
Awesome *


----------



## Elph

*Meepo like pretty lady*

Meepo does indeed rock. Just wait until he's peeing and making a nest in Indigo's blouse. Fortunately, she was out of it at the time. 

I love Indigo because she just fights and kills. The last character I played was integral to the plot and was the "leader" except that I, and thereby she, had no idea how to do that. So there was a lot of floundering and me trying to keep up with important plot points. 

Indigo will tune in occasionally, sometimes she'll ask questions and sometimes she'll just nod like she knows what's going on. Then she hits something. 

I was loving her until last week. Last week things went very, very wrong. I'm not a "new" player but I'm not an experienced one, yet, either. Last week I had my first run in with a "wish" in D&D. After all my crying, my "friends" explained to me that when making a wish in D&D, you have to be very...  careful... what... you... wish... for. 

I won't say what I got. But I will say that John turned the table on me and on the underside of that table was a lot of me going "I take it back! I take it back! Seriously, can I take it back?"


----------



## Schmackboy

*Wishing*

Poor Elph.

It didn't even occur to us at the table that she didn't know making a WISH was playing with fire.

I have to say, after playing for so many years, it was a real kick seeing someone learn the hard way.  OUCH!  It's a rite of initiation.  Really took me back to those days at Jim Rosenbaum's house rolling the d20 that came in the BASIC set...

Looking forward to seeing you, PC.  Loved OF SOUND MIND, ran it in the previous Scarred Lands "Angry Monkey" campaign for everyone.  Great work.

Now, before this thread gets totally highjacked, I must say that jonrog1's DM style is spectacular.  Beyond all the inventive ideas and vivid characters, he absolutely refuses to steer the characters in a specific direction.  It's almost become a chant -- anything could be a legitimate story path.  Sometimes it makes him sweat and scramble, but he's always there for it.

Like the casino.

Or the botched assassination attempt.  Taggart hangs his head in pain and humiliation... sniffle sniffle.


----------



## fenzer

From what has been offered on these story hours, I am not surprised at the groups ability to play out a great game and John's ability to game master.  You guys have made some memorable moments.  Thanks for sharing.

I like having imput from the players.  I hope you guys keep this up.


----------



## Welverin

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *-- Work begins this week on my new gaming website. The Dark*Matter D20 group will be voting on a name, so assume it will involve monkeys of some sort.*




So how goes the great website project?


----------



## jonrog1

The website waits until after June -- I'm travelling for about a month, so I'll try to do some updates, but I can't do any real detail work.  So far I've got the "Budget  & Gadget points for D20Modern" article done, and a fair chunk of using Gadget Points as the basis for a balanced pulp system ground out.  The vehicle combat rules were just playtested with varying results (I think I actually had _too many_ options.)  On the D&D front,  a quick summary of different magic variations drawn all the way from _Urban Arcana_ to the excellent _Midnight_ is in the works.  Also, I'll be reviewing Pinnacle's very fun, very streamlined _Savage Worlds_ system.

Anyone know a good, simple spell points system kicking around?


----------



## paulewaug

hey John,
"Back in the day" (1e/2e) we just converted the spells per day to "spell points" on a 1 for 1 basis (I hope thats the right way to say it, I think so-.) Kind of like how the Sorcerer does now in 3.o.

You can just do a straight conversion of all spells to spell points on a 1-1/spell level basis.
 (i.e. 1st level spells = 1 pt, 2nd level spells = 2pts, etc.)  this worked alright for us back then.
Or if you feel the need (as I was starting to later as the GM) you can say that each level of spell points can only be used for casting spells of that level (again like the 3.o Sorcerer) or (more along the lines of what I was going to do) break the spells up into "spell level pools" or "groups" based off of the implied ranking of some of the spell levels by spells such as _Minor Globe of Invulnerability_...("Spells up to 3rd level") and 
Globe of Invulnerability (4th Level spells)..

ahh..it kinda runs out there I guess..It seemed to group up better in 2.o....hmm

Well anyhow I figure you have the idea now..
It's a pretty easy way to do it!
uhh..that is assuming you meant for D&D or d20 anyhow.

If you just meant as in a "Game system at all" well then yeah..."Savage Worlds!!" hehe


----------



## Welverin

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *Anyone know a good, simple spell points system kicking around? *




Well that's basically what the psionics system is.

Thanks for the info on your site.


----------



## GreyShadow

Jonrog can I have an update please?  I waited months for The Core to hit Australia, do I have to wait more months? 

Are the same people playing this as your other Story Hours?

Cheers & I'll be here waiting no matter how long for the next update.


----------



## jonrog1

*CH. 8: "Wherein our heroes receive the blessings of Meepo, and discover said blessings are precisely as useless as one might first assume."*

A short time later, Kirby waved the rest of the group toward him.  They approached suspiciously.  Meepo the Kobold looked them up and down.  “Meepo does not think these look like mighty dwarf fighters.”

“Oh no,” Kirby assured the cult leader.  “That’s pretty much all we do all day.  Not a one of us will fight anything over four foot tall.”

Meepo made a series of thoughtful gurgling noises in his throat.  “You may be allowed to serve Meepo, if you are lucky.”

“Oh happy day.”

“You must come speak Yusadryl.  She is human leader.”  Meepo led them toward a rough wooden throne in the center of the camp.  Dozens of the self-mutilating dragon-cultists fell in behind them, muttering and singing in low tones.  

Argent leaned over to Kirby.  “Would you mind –“

“Okay, see that doorway?  Beyond it lies an abandoned dragon cult temple from the last millennia.  It’s not really caverns in there – once you’re past the entranceway, it’s more like a series of narrow clefts with open tops.  There are some worship rooms, then a spiral stone stairway down into the rock where the original dragonpriest’s quarters are. And apparently _past that_ is the entrance to a hidden canyon where our elusive Old Man waits with the healing apple.”  Kirby looked to Taggart.  “They’ve been squatting here for a while until some soldiers showed up.  The soldiers kicked them out, set up shop in that strongpoint, and took their dragon –“

“Their _dragon_?”  Alec made another notation in his notebook.

“According to Meepo there, a few months ago figures in black robes arrived.  They were surprisingly respectful of the cult and asked for access to the dragonpriest’s chambers below.  They rewarded the cult for their devotion to dragonkin by gifting them with a baby black dragon.”

“Impossible,” Taggart said.

Indigo shrugged.  “Very few things are impossible.  For example, you are doing a good deed.”

“For pay,” Taggart snapped.  He ignored his brother rolling his eyes behind him and pressed Kirby. “Why do you keep looking at me funny when you mention the soldiers?”

“They’re Charduni.”  Kirby winced as Taggart’s jaw clenched with an audible *snap*.  _No way out of this now …_ Kirby thought.

Yusadryl turned out to be a young human woman dressed in flowing black robes.  Her skin was cross-hatched scarred.  She had two small onyx horns driven into her skull.  Kirby idly wondered how painful that had been.  She stared down imperiously at the adventurers.  Or, as imperiously as one can stare down from a throne mad of old barrels and wagon parts.  “You arrrrre outssssidersss …” she hissed.  She couldn’t help but hiss; her tongue was also split down the center. “The other outsssssidersss did not come back ...”

Argent was keeping quiet.  He had a hard time reconciling his devout faith with any dealings with these pagans.  But that got his attention. “Others?  From the town?”

A brief parley revealed that the Hucrele brothers, a female paladin of Corean and some porters had come through just after the Charduni had seized the temple.  They’d spurned any warnings from the cult – actually slapped a few of them around – then gone ahead inside.

“We’re different,” Kirby lied smoothly.  “See how we’ve come for your permissions and your blessing?”

“Yes!  Meepo bring new warriors to rescue our dragon!”  Meepo shook his claw. “Meepo make nice, and now warriors obey Meepo!”  Some of the crowd oo’d and ahh’d.  Meepo puffed up his tiny chest and exchanged glares with Yusadryl.  There was plainly a little power struggle going on here.

A few moments later the group stood at the great temple doors.  Meepo was conveying some sort of blessing on them.  Taggart pointedly ignored him and continued searching the doors.  “All clear.  Anyone read draconic?”

Alec saw what the rogue was referring to: a series of heavy slashmarks dug into the stone over the dragon-faced door.  “I can muddle through.  It’s a proper name, probably that of the elder dragon this temple was dedicated to.  _*Leashadran*_.”

Indigo waved him off as she drew her vast sword.  “Dragon is long dead.  Concentrate on the living opponents we face now.”

 A second later – and a few more hurried kobold blessings – they were in.


******************************


The first few chambers were just foyers with interconnecting doors sunk into the red rock walls.  The group moved smoothly – Taggart would check each door, Indigo would open it with Kirby and Alec aiming their bows through the door as they went.  Argent brought up the rear, spear ready.  They didn’t need light sources.  Each room soared some seventy high and had cracks and openings in the ceiling, letting the sun in.  The caverns glowed with the filtered red-gold light, a perpetual sunrise deep within the cliffs.

_This is actually quite pretty_, Kirby thought to himself as they opened the next door.  Then somewhere in the back of his head something TWITCHED.  He pivoted on his right leg, spinning around and leaning back.  Two crossbow bolts grazed his shoulders as he spun beneath them.  _Ah, now that’s slightly less pretty –_

This cavern was wider and the ceiling was completely open – giving them a lovely view of the waist-high stone wall built cleanly across the width of the cavern.  Waist high to the party; chest high to the midnight-skinned dwarves on the other side.  They were dressed in black leather armor with formal military insignia.  The six stout warriors roared and FIRED again.  Alec and Kirby fired back, their arrows clanging off the low stonework.

“They’ve got too much cover!” Argent yelled, dodging the volley.

“Only one solution to that!” Taggart yelled back.  He rushed straight at the dwarves.  Indigo shrugged and followed.

The Charduni fired again.  Taggart felt a bolt punch through his leather duster and keep going.  He smoothly vaulted the wall, planted his hand on the lead Charduni’s head, SOMERSAULTED over the dwarf and landed behind him.  Three of the dwarves dropped their crossbows, drew swords.  But even as they pivoted on  Taggart,  Indigo stager-stepped up the join of the wall and cavern face.  She planted her sword point on the top of the shield wall and used it to SWING-kick  into the fray.  Her heel caught one of the Charduni and put him down instantly.

Within seconds Taggart was weaving and dodging three longswords.  His punch-blade snickered out.  He couldn’t get a good clean killshot, but he was slicing the Charduni up a bit at a time.  He caught Argent out of the corner of his eye.  His brother was rushing the wall, spear held high.  The priest’s chainmail gleamed in the light, his eyes filled with righteous fury.  Argent leapt, planted one foot atop the wall –

-- and slipped.  He hit CLANK on his chest then WHACK on his chin and lay on the ground stunned.  A Charduni rose from behind the wall, longsword held high.

Kirby was running, his bow in his hand.  He dropped to one knee and slid into the base of the wall.  As his outstretched leg stopped him, he took a beat to look down on the priest with a grin.  “Nice.”  Without looking, he let loose his arrow.  It buried itself through the Charduni’s throat, straight up into his brain.

Two more of the foul dwarves fell, caught between Indigo and Taggart.  Argent rolled over the wall.  A Charduni blade chinked on the stones as he passed.  Almost instinctively he lunged with his spear. It bit hard.  He looked up into the dwarf’s eyes as it died.  He shuddered at the hate they held.

The last Charduni broke for a door at the back of the cavern.  “NO!” Taggart yelled.  “The rest of his patrol will be –“

THUNK.  An arrow with bright red fletching skewered the nape of the dwarf’s neck.  The soldier walked for a few more steps in a sad parody of life, then collapsed.  Argent, way back at the entrance, waved.  “Forgot about me, eh?”

Taggart noted the bard had hit a spot the size of a gold coin on a moving target from almost a hundred feet out.  “I won’t forget about you again,” he muttered.  “Now come on, before their pals catch on.”  The next door was heavier than the rest.  He pulled out his thieving tools.  He blew ash-mix onto the door, into the seams.  He lay his head against the wall, looking at the door surface’s reflection in a mirror, checking for glyphs.  After running a feather through the cracks – the trick was not to pull the feather, let the weight bring it down and detect any trigger strings or traps – Taggart motioned the others forward.  He instinctively used a complex hand signal.  Most of the others had no idea just how much information was conveyed in that simple gesture, but they’d seen it enough to know that it meant all was clear.  Indigo shoved.

Incredibly, two tons of stone pivoted flawlessly on sunken hinges.  The cavern revealed was the largest one yet.  Two rows of stone pillars, each carved with draconic images, led further into the room.  The natural stone walls had been worked to angular smoothness.  A billowing chest high fog hovered everywhere.  Taggart breathed some in, coughed.  “A little acidic.”

“It’s natural, seeping up from the floor.”  Indigo pulled a silk scarf over her nose.  “Maybe why they built the temple here.”

The group moved carefully, pillar to pillar.  They had a fair amount of cover.  As long as the rest of the Charduni patrol didn’t get curious, they’d have the element of  --

“SURPRISE!” came a bellowing voice.  From behind the last set of pillars in the room poured eight more Charduni.  Luckily they’d sprung their trap early.  Even as they raised their swords, fired their crossbows, the party charged.  Taggart extended his punch blade, raced forward.  Argent charged with his spear.  Alec neatly side-stepped some crossbow bolts and let loose two answering arrows before he disappeared behind a pillar.  Kirby pulled out his rapier, casually tucked the hem of his coat into his belt behind him as if preparing for a formal duel.

Indigo, however, paused.  For a massive, barrel-chested dwarf stepped out from behind his pillar holding a wide-bladed gleaming longsword.  A Coreanic blade. The paladin’s blade.  He raised it over his head in a formal pose.  He set one foot.  With a gleeful snarl he cried “OATHBLADE!”

Almost absently Indigo punched an approaching dwarf in the throat, dropping him.  To the background of screams and shouts and clashing metal, she raised her own bastard sword back over one shoulder, her wrists oddly cocked.  She too set one foot, dug the other boot’s toe into the red dust on the floor.  The long bare leg revealed by her kilt flexed, all trembling muscle.  This was a blade challenge.  Her first.

The Charduni bellowed.  Indigo snarled back and they RUSHED each other.  They were at a full run and still picking up speed –

CLANG!  Their swords clashed too fast for the eye to see, sparks flew.  A _hisssshhhhh_ as, once past each other, they dug in their heels and skidded to a stop.  Each was frozen, still facing forward.  Each held their sword in high finishing positions.

Indigo felt something wet on her front.  She looked down.

Yep.  Those were her insides all right.  Outside.

“Crap.”  Indigo sank to one knee.  Behind her the Charduni Captain slowly turned, laughing…


----------



## jonrog1

GreyShadow said:
			
		

> *JAre the same people playing this as your other Story Hours?
> 
> *




From DarkMatter:

Andy -- Kirby
Ross -- Taggart
Jo -- Indigo
Stephen -- Argent
Denis -- Alec


----------



## Welverin

A whole plethora of updates, happy day!

I though of the happy day bit before reading the update, afterwards it's actually topical.


----------



## DanMcS

Don't you ever get to play, John?  

Updates to two stories in one day.  Soon you'll have piratecat begging for mercy.


----------



## fenzer

> Indigo felt something wet on her front. She looked down.
> 
> Yep. Those were her insides all right. Outside.
> 
> “Crap.” Indigo sank to one knee. Behind her the Charduni Captain slowly turned, laughing…




Oh man!  What happens next!


----------



## Pierce

*Nooooooo!*



> *Originally posted by jonrog1
> 
> Indigo felt something wet on her front.  She looked down.
> 
> Yep.  Those were her insides all right.  Outside.
> *




Ouch.  I hope you've got the next post ready to go - I don't know if I can wait a month to find out if Indigo lives or dies....


----------



## Zarthon

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *Indigo felt something wet on her front.  She looked down.
> 
> Yep.  Those were her insides all right.  Outside.
> 
> “Crap.”  Indigo sank to one knee.  Behind her the Charduni Captain slowly turned, laughing… *




Thats not good!!!


----------



## Welverin

Zarthon said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Thats not good!!! *




She's a hero, she'll pull through! She just has to cram her guts back in and hold them there with one hand and she'll be fine.


----------



## Elph

Welverin said:
			
		

> *
> 
> She's a hero, she'll pull through! She just has to cram her guts back in and hold them there with one hand and she'll be fine. *




Ah! I see you've played "insides on the outsides." Not a fun game, to be sure. Bit more difficult to use that two handed sword when one arm is elbow deep in your own guts. 

Without looking up, Indigo shouts to Alec who has won a place with her by chronicling her life story. "Get out your pen and paper, little man. It just.... got.... interesting."


----------



## Welverin

Elph said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Ah! I see you've played "insides on the outsides." Not a fun game, to be sure. Bit more difficult to use that two handed sword when one arm is elbow deep in your own guts.*




Luckily I can say no I have not. I was thinking of someone else who was in a similar situation, minus the two handed sword however, which as you pointed out, rather complicates matters.


----------



## ForceflowX

Live, story hour, live!

*Bump-_kick_*


----------



## jonrog1

*CH. 9: "In which our heroes discover the inmates are not only running the asylum, they got their hands on a tactical nuke."*


Indigo tried to rise, but her knee kept going out from under her.  Her intestines would not ... go ... in ...  The room spun, fell away into grey --

Like all battlefield deaths the moment was small, almost lost the raging chaos.  Argent ducked, an Charduni axe SMASHING stone chips from a pillar.  Taggart and Kirby were locked in a deadly dance with four Charduni soldiers,alternately dodging and flanking them.   Alec ignored a javelin whizzing by his ear, let loose his bow.   Across the fog-filled temple cavern one of the onyx dwarves fell from the shaft.

The Charduni Captain took his time.  He crossed, spinning his longsword loosely in his hand.   His pitted teeth flashed.  Muscles bunching, he lifted three feet of sharpened steel over his head and swung for Indigo's skull.

KLANK.  The Charduni stumbled.  Where the hell --

The human woman was somehow _moving_.   It was impossible.  No one could stay conscious through that pain.

Alec caught Indigo stagger-stepping past.  "Song-boy, I need some help!"

Alec calmly spun away as another two javelins smashed against the spot where he'd been a blink earlier.  He calmly under-handed a healing potion through the air to Indigo, drew another arrow and released it, still moving.  Indigo spotted the Captain closing on her.  Leaning on her sword, she thumbed the top from the potion, drunk it -- and SCREAMED.  Hot needles ripped through her torso as flesh melted, reformed.  Every nerve was on fire.  She almost spun out from nausea as arcane strings pulled her guts back into place.

She got her sword up just in time, BLOCKING the Captain's blow.  Sparks flew.  Indigo stumbled backward.  She tried to bring her sword back up.  The potion had saved her life, but she was just too slow ---  

As if she were onstage and her play were ending, two curtains of fabric swung in front of her.  Leather and velvet.  Taggart extended one arm out with his punchblade.  Kirby raised his rapier to a polite _en guarde_.  Taggart looked over his shoulder, grinned.  "Seeing as you're inconvenienced, mind dealing with the ranged weapon fellows?"

Indigo spun on the suddenly exposed, suddenly panicked javelin throwers.  She decided they'd be an excellent way to take out her frustration.  As bits of Charduni flew, the Captain whirled between Taggart and Kirby.  "I am NOT going to die at the hands of human fops!  I am -- URKKK."

He looked down.  Taggart had distracted him.   An expertly placed rapier passed through his spine and clean out his chest.  The last thing the Charduni heard before rushing to meet his savage god was Kirby, sighing. "I'm not a fop.  I'm a dandy."


******************************


Indigo sat slumped against one of the pillars.  The fog filling the room still burned, but that really was the least of her problems.  Argent, eyes closed, lay his hands over her ragged wounds.  The scars disappeared, at least.  Her color went from blue to sickly grey.  "I'll do some more with my herbs."

"Fine, fine," Indigo waved at him.  "Three years of war, not a scratch.  One week of helping people, I nearly die.  If I believed in signs, this would be one."

Across the room Kirby and Alec studied three doors on the back wall.  Kirby sniffed.  "The center one,  Blood back there.  Taggart --" He turned.  Taggart was busy sawing off the Charduni Captain's head.   Then, once the head was severed, he ... violated it.  Kirby gave a minute head shake to Alec's raised eyebrow.  "We were slaves in Termana for a few years.  Taggart holds a grudge."

Finished with kicking the Charduni Captain's head around, Taggart strolled up.  "Middle door?"  They opened it.  Immediately, they stepped back.  The ozone stench of blood was incredible.  This was a supply closet the Charduni had turned into an _ad hoc_ torture chamber.  Several executed porters were sprawled on the floor.  One corpse, flayed of all skin, hung from chains.  The expression on what was left of the poor devil's face made it plain that he'd been alive for most of it.  Taggart reached into a puddle of blood in the floor.  He raised a silver signet ring.  "One of the Hucrele boys."

Argent stepped into the room.  He threw a look to Taggart.  With a guilty sigh, his brother helped him unchain the body.  Argent lay it on the floor.  He closed his eyes, began praying.

"Dammit.  No happy endings in the Scarred Lands."  Kirby slung open the far right door.  This circular chamber had plainly been a priest's chamber, converted to the Captain's war room.  A the back of the room was a boarded-up set of stairs leading deeper into the red rock crypts.

Alec looked up.  Sunlight shone in from a natural skylight high above.   The room glowed with weird red light.  He crossed to a travelling desk.  Reams of paper hacked with the thick hash marks of dwarven writing lay scattered across maps.  "Give me some time with these.  Battle orders.  These lads were hot off the Blood War, looks like ..." the bard scanned one of the documents, " ... they were a strike team.   I believe we killed them all."  

Taggart and Kirby left Alec to study the Charduni documents.  When they crossed to the last door, some BANGING inside put them on edge.  Kirby chuckled grimly.  "This'll be the cult's 'dragon.'  Any bets?"

"The one they say men in black robes gave them?"  Indigo limped up.  "I say its a kobold, partnered with Meepo."

Taggart tossed a gold coin to Kirby.  "A baby one of those false dragons the Lageni stormtroopers ride."

"I'm sticking with polymorphed dog."  Kirby slid open the door.  Within the small room was a series of chains padlocked to rings drivin into the rock.  The chains all led to a single black figure HOWLING and SQUAWKING, yanking on the chains for all it was worth.  It glared at them with jeweled eyes.  Its small black reflective wings lifted it, struggling against the weight.  The adventurers stared at it in silence for a full minute.  

Alec strolled up, his nose buried in the dwarven papers.  "They traded the paladin and the other Hucrele boy to the Old Man who lives beyond the catacombs.  Got some magic and healing out of it.  Oh, and how many soldiers did we kill?"

Without taking his eyes of the creature in the room, Taggart whispered "Fourteen."

"Okay, so that's a *squad*, right?"

"Right."

"How many soldiers in a *company?*"

"A hundred."

"Ah.  See, this is the word for 'company'.  This advance squad was meant to find a strongpoint, to establish a new Charduni base in the Blood Steppes.  Taking advantage of the chaos of the war.  We've got a hundred Charduni riding down on us and the village of Oakhurst."  Alec looked from Kirby to Taggart to Indigo.  "Hey. HEY.  A hundred battle-hardened --" He finally looked in the room, where they were all staring.  He dropped the papers.

"Who the hell gave those morons a *real dragon?*"


**************************************************

They alternated between screams and giggles.  The *baby black dragon* was plainly not happy to be back in the clutches of the cult, and showered them with weak spurts of acid.  Rather than being warned off, the humans would run into the mist, SCREAM as the acid bubbled away some of their skin, then GIGGLE in religious ecstasy.  From her throne newly restored in a corner of the main room, Yusadryl glared at the party.  She was genuinely pleased her people were once again in the presence of their god's avatar, but it was because of --

"Meepo make nice with strangers!  Strangers serve Meepo, rescue dragon!"  Meepo puffed up his tiny chest as cultists cheered.

Argent leaned over to Taggart.  "I'd really prefer he couldn't take advantage of this."

"They have free will, brother.  Can't go converting every lost soul."  Taggart looked into the priest's room.  Indigo pried the last board away from the staircase down.  "Meepo, come here."

Meepo skipped over.  "How can Meepo help favorite slaves?"

Kirby was about to retort, let it slide.  Alec tossed a torch into the blackness of the doorway.  It bounced down a set of stone spiral stairs, then disappeared.  "Your brothers in the black robes gave you the dragon as a sign of respect, so they could pass down here?"

"Yes, all humans pay obeis ... obey ... do what Meepo say."  Meepo frowned, eyelids lowering over his golden irises.  "Black robes come out with books.  Down there, study and tomb of priest of dragon worship from many times ago."

"How long ago?"

"Before Meepo."  Meepo nodded thougfully, as if this were the calendar system the entire planet used. "Past that, is opening to little canyon.  No other way in or out, unless you fly, and canyon walls very high.  Old Man live there."

A soft glow filled the room.  Indigo opened a small sack and took out a half-dozen *small WOODEN BALLS*, no bigger than her thumb.  Each flared with a cold flame.  "Here, a trick from a dead man I knew once."  She pushed the _continual flame_ ball under a strap on her shoulder.  Now she had light, and her hands were free.  Each of the others took one, some placing them in their pockets, some wrapping them up. "Now,  let's go get this apple to save Godwyn's life,  and get out of here."

Argent probed the darkness with his spear -- as incredibly unsubtle as it was, he'd cast _continual light_ on the end of his bladed end of his weapon.  It was a loving tribute to Madriel.  Out in the battlefield it hadn't been a problem.  But as far as skulking through tunnels, well, it was not skulk-friendly. "And don't forget the adventurers from Oakhurst."

"I was going to say 'of course', but we both know that's a lie." Indigo hoisted her Oathblade.  With Taggart scanning the stairs for traps, they spun down into the dark.  


*****************************

The stairs led down a full sixty feet into the soild rock.  Finally, they emerged in an arched room.  It was small enough that their lights completly exposed the walls.  It was a library.  Bookshelves crammed with ancient volumes filled each wall.  Taggart whistled.  "Yes," Alec answered, "some impressive lore down here."

"No, I was thinking resale value."  Taggart stopped by the far wall.   "Um, think one of the black-robes had a little accident."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because there's half a naked guy here."  The others came to his side.  Indeed, the top half of a rather academic-looking young man was splayed against one wall.  "They stripped him, removed the lower half of his jaw to keep us from necrocasting on the corpse.  Nice.  Thorough."

At a loss with what to do with this non-evidence, the group searched the room.  Taggart found a narrow crack in the back wall, from which fresh air blew.  It looked like an earthquake in ancient times had opened this sealed chamber to a fissure, and that fissure led outside.  Alec noted that the bookshelves had been meticulously catalogued -- and so it was easy to spot certain categories of books had been recently removed.  Indigo squinted at a rune-covered door.  Yes, yes, she should wait for the sneaky one to check it, but ... impatient, she opened it.

WHAM.

It was a troll.

It was also undead. 

It had hit her with a human leg.

It was amazing how much Indigo noticed, upside-down, in mid-air.  The noticing stopped when she hit the wall.

Argent raised his spear.  _"Blessing of Madriel, light of her heart, drive back this unholy abomination, I COMMAND YOU YIELD!"_   Energy CRACKLED between Argent and the ten-foot high rubbery beast. A pale, vertical DISK of RUNES flared into visibility.  Suddenly, the runes fluttered away, Argent's divine power dissolving beneath the wave of pure evil radiating off the creature.  Next thing he knew, he too was tumbling across the stone floor.

Kirby and Alec stepped up.   This was going to be --

WHUMPH.  CRACKLE CRACKLE. AARAGRRAGAGAGARRGAGGG!  

-- rather anticlimactic.  

Taggart stepped up to watch the beast writhe and scream, burning on the floor.  He put the rest of his oil and flint away. "Hmm.  Rather like that.  Notice I didn't have to come near it."

"I noticed, " Argent observed wryly, dusting himself off.  He sneezed.  Burning wight troll priests produced a distinctly unpleasant odor.  

Taggart stepped past the smoking ruin and into the tiny chamber beyond.  "I think the black robe boys made a mistake of opening this door.  While one of them got shredded the rest resealed the tomb.  Look, its coffin's in here."  Taggart made an expert search of the area.  He showed the others some sort of *flattened silver disk.*  "Hmmm.  Not a coin.  Like a ring, got crushed in the fight."

Kirby produced his appraiser's lens.  "There's a signet crest on it.  Maybe the source of our black-robed friends."  Kirby pocketed the ring out of habit.

***************************************

Having exhausted the last of the old temple, the party squeezed into the fissure at the back of the chamber.  The passage was only shoulder width, incredibly claustrophobic.  The odd breeze of fresh air blowing through made the trip bearable.  Slowly, a comforting glow grew in front of them. Soon bright sunlight streamed in at them, making them squint as they advanced.

Indigo was the first from the crack in the canyon wall.  She gazed around in wonder.  This was indeed a box canyon, the sides easily a quarter-mile high.  Bright blue sky was perfectly framed by the red rock walls.  The ground here, unlike everywher ein the Blood Steppes, was covered by thick, springy green grass.  Flowers of every sort flourished in little pockets.  Indigo took a deep breath.  "Amazing.  That smells ... not dead.  Opposite of dead."

The canyon was long enough to bend off and out of sight to the right.  Alec paused under a graceful weeping willow.  "Look, a bedroll, an herb pot. I do believe we're in the hdden grove of a druid.  Only thing that could explain this."

"Well about time we caught a break, " Taggart muttered.  "He'll listen to our sob story, give us the apple, and he's probably got that paladin and local brat all bandaged up and stoned on dandelion wine."

The group rounded the bend in the canyon.   Yes, indeed, there was the druid.  And the paladin and local sorcerer.  And a tree, sporting a magical looking red apple.

None of this was good news.


----------



## jonrog1

Quick explanations.

The blade challenge is an iajutsiu ... whatever duel from _Oriental Adventures_.  Real anime speed-line feel to Indigo's first round.  Adpating the Samurao class for other settings, I think, finally produces the feel of a swordsman rather than just a generic fighter.

Indigo has taken levels in a modified version of _7th Sea's_ Woman of Will prestige class.  Takes a beatiing, keeps on breathing.  Would have been a goner if she'd fallen.

The potion reaction is campaign specific..  I wanted the heal skill to have some meaning.  It's about as effective as potions, but multiple heal potions start giving you modifiers from pain and nausea.  

You don't want to know what Taggart did to the corpse.

And the druid speaks like Mountheim, from the Pulp Spycraft Story Minute.


----------



## Richards

> You don't want to know what Taggart did to the corpse.



Yes I do!  Now you've got me all curious!

Johnathan


----------



## Welverin

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *Indigo squinted at a rune-covered door.  Yes, yes, she should wait for the sneaky one to check it, but ... impatient, she opened it.
> 
> WHAM.
> 
> It was a troll.
> 
> It was also undead.
> 
> It had hit her with a human leg.
> 
> It was amazing how much Indigo noticed, upside-down, in mid-air.  The noticing stopped when she hit the wall.*



*

You kick ass, I particularly like the last part.



			
				Richards said:
			
		


Yes I do!  Now you've got me all curious!

Click to expand...



He violated it, and I'm guessing that he violated it in a bad way. My imagination leads no where good and because of that I prefer not to know what he actually did.*


----------



## fenzer

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> *
> The potion reaction is campaign specific..  I wanted the heal skill to have some meaning.  It's about as effective as potions, but multiple heal potions start giving you modifiers from pain and nausea.
> 
> *




Excellent idea.

John, do you have any of these rules modifications posted at your web site.  I really want to take a look at what you have done.


----------



## jonrog1

The website still percolates -- been travelling quite a bit this summer, with a bit more of a workload than I anticipated.  I _hope_ we can have something bare-bones up this month.

Trick is, I don't want to put it up without having at least three good articles finished for it, in a very specific format.  So we'll see.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

"Go read Jonrog's story hour," they said. "It's really good," they said.

"It can't be THAT good," I thought to myself.

Ahem.

SUBSCRIBE SUBSCRIBE SUBSCRIBE!


----------



## Welverin

You did read all three didn't you?

Welverin

p.s. the links are in john's sig.


----------



## Schmackboy

*Taggart's Violation*

Here's your clue:

"Tinkle tinkle tinkle."

Just to, you know, dispel some of those other ideas y'all might have.  'Cause, you know, I've got a character's reputation to protect.

Yeah.  Right.

How did this first misadventure end up looking like the happy bright sunshiney Smurf adventure in hindsight?

And jonrog1 would find something for Taggart to hate MUCH MORE than Charduni before it's all through.

Damn jonrog1.


----------



## Welverin

*Re: Taggart's Violation*



			
				Schmackboy said:
			
		

> *Here's your clue:
> 
> "Tinkle tinkle tinkle."
> 
> Just to, you know, dispel some of those other ideas y'all might have.  'Cause, you know, I've got a character's reputation to protect.*




O.k. so it wasn't a Duke Nukem style violation or anything more intimate then. That's good.


----------



## Zarthon

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> WHAM.
> 
> It was a troll.
> 
> It was also undead.
> 
> It had hit her with a human leg.
> 
> It was amazing how much Indigo noticed, upside-down, in mid-air.  The noticing stopped when she hit the wall.
> 
> Argent raised his spear.  _"Blessing of Madriel, light of her heart, drive back this unholy abomination, I COMMAND YOU YIELD!"_   Energy CRACKLED between Argent and the ten-foot high rubbery beast. A pale, vertical DISK of RUNES flared into visibility.  Suddenly, the runes fluttered away, Argent's divine power dissolving beneath the wave of pure evil radiating off the creature.  Next thing he knew, he too was tumbling across the stone floor.
> 
> Kirby and Alec stepped up.   This was going to be --
> 
> WHUMPH.  CRACKLE CRACKLE. AARAGRRAGAGAGARRGAGGG!
> 
> -- rather anticlimactic.
> 
> Taggart stepped up to watch the beast writhe and scream, burning on the floor.  He put the rest of his oil and flint away. "Hmm.  Rather like that.  Notice I didn't have to come near it."




That' s just classic


----------



## rbingham2000

Schmackboy said:
			
		

> Here's your clue:
> 
> "Tinkle tinkle tinkle."



Ah, so THAT'S what he did!

Wasn't what I thought he did when I first read the thing, but still...nasty! 

When's the next friggin' installment coming?!


----------



## darkbard

still waiting for updates ... to the website ... to this storyhour ... to the darkmatter story ... basically anything you want to share with us.  please.  soon.  pretty please?


----------



## Elph

*Bump*

Man oh man. We just finished this "season" of the campaign. So much has happened. So much has changed. By far - Best. Campaign. Ever. 

And as we head into season two, who knows what adventures await our brave, er... heroic, no wait... how about 'charging fool-hearty head-long into the gapping maw of danger' characters? 

That sounds about right.


----------



## Harp

OK, I'm suitably a-tingle with anticipation, but just out of curiosity, what's meant by campaign "seasons"?

Man, I love this Story Hour.


----------



## DanMcS

Harp said:
			
		

> OK, I'm suitably a-tingle with anticipation, but just out of curiosity, what's meant by campaign "seasons"?




I assumed a similar thing to what's meant by a TV season.

On a side note, while you're waiting for your jonrog fix, you can get a temporary hit watching "The Core."  Bought it last night on DVD.  Mmm, disaster movie.

"I have a security clearance?"  "I have a plane?"

"You use our T1 to search for Sailor Moon, I think you can do this."

Hehe.


----------



## jonrog1

The original line was "You can use our T1 line to find Sailor Moon _porn_, you can do this."

Damn Paramount.

And yes, the campaign is broken into 5-level "series".  Very Buffy, with one big-bad per arc.  That way, get an emotional investment, but feel likes there's regular payoffs.  They started at 2nd level, and ended on eighth (really leveled to nine, but no biggie).  I try to make sure all hanging plot points are resolved, so we can start new subplots and personal stuff on a regular basis.  Even have a three-month downtime between campaign timelines.

Also allows for different campaign "flavors".  The first was a city-to-city investigation with some Dungeon Crawls.  Very sprawling, lots of hack-n-slash.  Season Two is "The Gentlemen's War", and our lightning-bolt happy crew is going to _attempt_ to act as spies and saboteurs in a series of loosely-conected adventures.  This should be amusing.  Probably finish this up around level 12/13, then on to something else.


----------



## jonrog1

*CH. 10: "Wherein our heroes discover Green Acres is not the place to be..."*

After a hard L-turn, the canyon resolved into a dead-end.  There, nestled against the back redstone wall was the Tree.

It wasn’t the tallest tree any of them has seen, but it had an unmistakable presence.  Its girth was fully fifteen feet, rising stumpily another thirty, ending in thick bizarrely twisted branches.  The jet-black branches didn’t taper off, the ended in blunt, insane contortions as if frozen in the midst of convulsions.  There was no fruit on the limbs.  Instead, spiralling up and around the trunk were … blisters of various sizes.  It was if the fruit were erupting as pustules.  Only two apples seemed ripe, almost ready to drop off the trunk  -- a single *red apple*, and a single *white apple*.

The center of the trunk was split lengthwise by a gummy cleft twice a man’s height. It oozed sap and was, generally, the most obscene thing any of the party had seen.  Ever.  And Alec had been to Shelzar.

Unnerved by this sudden change in the tone of what had seemed to be a pleasant little druid’s grove, Indigo drew her sword.  Argent hefted his light-tipped spear in both hands.  Taggart and Kirby shifted from nonchalant to chalant-and-yet-still-cooler-than-most.  Alec unlimbered his bow.  They trod softly through the lush, green grass of the canyon toward the abomination.  The dappled sunlight cast all of this into weird relief.

Everyone twitched when a robed figure circled from behind the tree.  He was an elderly human, walking with a staff.  His face broke into a wide grin.  “Viiiiiisitoorrs!  Vonderful!  Vonderful!  You have come to see my beauty, yes?”

“If the beauty is that … thing and not a disturbing metaphor for something else, sure.”  Kirby stepped forward and bowed.  “We, ah, have heard of the regenerative powers of your tree’s fruits.”

“BAH!”  The man shook his head impatiently.  “Belloc has finally triumphed.  Belloc has no need of the distraaaaaaaaction of the auction.”  There was an awkward pause.  “I am Belloc, by the way.  Stop looking around.”

“Sorry.”  Indigo edged forward, hypnotized by the grotesque magnificence of the tree.  “If it is not too much to be asking, what have you triumphed at?”

“In my service to *MORMO, ALL POWERFUL AND MOST BEAUTIFUL OF THE TITANS, DARK MOTHER TO OUR BLESSED ABOMINAAAATTTTIONS!*.”  Belloc caught himself in mid-rant.  “Ah, sorry, Belloc sometimes grows so enthusiastic in her service.”

“Mormo, the fallen titan –“ started Alec.

“No, the OTHER Mormo, yes, yes, foolish mortals, soon all will be blessed with the sweet dark kiss of her Holiness.”  Belloc paused.  “You seem less than enthusiastic about Belloc’s triumph.”

“That’s because you’re evil, and we’re going to kill you,” muttered Argent.  

Taggart shushed him.  “Listen, we’re in this guy’s grove.  We don’t know his powers.  Play cool, till we get the apple, and then if things go wrong we can deal with him.”  Taggart flexed his hand, making sure the forearm-sheath holding his katar was properly aligned.

Kirby stepped forward, adjusting his velevet longcoat.  “No, no, Belloc, terribly impressed.  Just wondering, as Mormo is of course, ah, rather destructive, what you’ve been doing selling a healing apple for all these years.”

“You think my research is inexpensive?”  Belloc chuckled.  “No, no, I have imported saplings from the Hornsaw, water from the Blood Sea, even soil from the mad Blood Bayou in Termana.  The gold from my healing has gone to dark seed –“ He gestured to the tree, “ – and this is its flower!”  Belloc paced, chuckling madly.  “Wood and flesh, blood and soil, all twisted in my hands.  I am a gardener, you see, a simple gardener…”

Belloc gestured.  Two figures shuffled stiffly out from behind the tree.  One was a young man in torn robes of a spellcaster.  The other …  well, she made an impression on all of them, but Alec actually found himself gasping.  She was easily six feet tall, beautiful, with long dark hair and green eyes, but a soldier’s build.  She wore a chain shirt with the crossed longswords of Corean worked into each shoulder.  Her own longsword dangled awkwardly in her hand: her grip was sturdy, but angled wrong, as if she’d never held a weapon before.  It was the missing Hucrele boy and the paladin of Corean, Sharwyn.

Each of them bore a helmet of *wood*;  a twisted root system erupted from the skullcaps and _burrowed_ into their living flesh, behind their ears, under their jaws.  Tiny wooden claws pried their eyelids apart, keeping them from blinking.  A spine of some sort descended from the back of the skullcrest, descending into their clothing.  But stronger roots and tendrils wrapped around their limbs from within.  They shuffled, jerking, as if they were marionettes, their string erupting from inside them.  They had no control of their actions.

And Alec could see, in the young woman’s eyes, they were aware.  Helpless, tormented, tortured, and aware.

Kirby could sense the group behind him growing angry.  What his gambler’s brain automatically calculated was that, if the druid alone was a problem, a druid with a spellcaster and paladin was even more trouble.  “Even more masterful, Belloc,” Kirby lied smoothly.  “Now please, let us contribute to your work.  Give us the healing apple, and we’ll give you even more gold to continue your service to Mormo.”

Belloc shook his head.  It wasn’t that he thought Kirby was lying (there weren’t many sentient beings capable of discerning whether Kirby was telling the truth or not) … “No, no, I have no need of gold.  But now, in the final stages, my tree has needs.”  He paused.  “Blood.  Step there, willingly into zee tree.  Be consumed by my love.  Be among zee first to serve me, or be devoured.”

Another pause while the party parsed that thought.  “So,” Indigo ventured, “we step into that gash in the tree, and we are either being made into the puppet-people or the tree eats us, yes?”

“Depending upon your worthiness.”  Belloc cackled again at the smooth efficiency of his unholy creation.

Argent set his feet, choked up on his spear.  He could sense his friends’ disgust.  There was that moment, that electric charge, hanging there.  He braced, for as soon as Kirby told this evil monster to get stuffed, there was going to some a$$-kicking for Madriel.  Kirby opened his mouth to answer… Argent reached for his holy symbol …  Indigo hefted her sword above her shoulder … Taggart flipped his longcoat back from his right hip, revealing more oil and fuses …  Alec subtly drew the string back on his bow … annnnnd …

“How about we go get you some _*more*_ victims?”  

As one, the party sloooowly swiveled their heads to stare at Kirby.  He gave them a cheerful thumbs up and a grin.  He silently mouthed: _”Best.  Plan.  Ever.”_


----------



## Thomas Hobbes

*evil snicker*

An exxxcellent return to the heroes we all know and love.  Well done as always, Jonrog!


----------



## fenzer

Excellent John, very good indeed.

I am really enjoying this twist on the Sunless Citadel.  

You have the mind of a mad man and the quill of a poet.


----------



## GreyShadow

I've been reading your story hours for sometime now  and here I thought I knew your players.  Obviously I have to pay more attention. 

Great stuff!


----------



## darkbard

yay!  update!!  good stuff, as always.  a little on the short side, but hey, we'll let that slide for now.  here's hoping the next [and darkmatter too] isn't far behind....


----------



## wolff96

Kirby cracks me up. The whole party is ready to rumble, but he's hatching new and more devious plans. 

Great writing, jonrog1.


----------



## spyscribe

"You see," Jo explains, as the character Ross is playing for the evening sets about chopping our dead enemies into bits, then burning the bits, then scattering the ashes, "in _our_ game, if we don't make _really_ sure someone is dead, John will bring them back as powerful maniacs determined to kill us all."



			
				jonrog1 said:
			
		

> It was the missing Hucrele boy and the paladin of Corean, Sharwyn.
> 
> Each of them bore a helmet of *wood*;  a twisted root system erupted from the skullcaps and _burrowed_ into their living flesh, behind their ears, under their jaws...[/I]




I understand now.

Great update.


----------



## Pierce

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> “How about we go get you some _*more*_ victims?”
> 
> As one, the party sloooowly swiveled their heads to stare at Kirby.  He gave them a cheerful thumbs up and a grin.  He silently mouthed: _”Best.  Plan.  Ever.”_




BWAAHAAHAA!  I love it.  Reminds me of my group - all set up for some noble a$$whoopin' when suddenly fludogg comes up with some wicked idea sending us snowballing on some weird tangent.

Oh, and: Woo hoo!  Update!!


----------



## Pyske

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> Taggart and Kirby shifted from nonchalant to chalant-and-yet-still-cooler-than-most.




This story hour is full of great quotes, but this one has to be one of my favorites.

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


----------



## KidCthulhu

Mmmm.  Evil Georgia O'Keefe tree by way of Geiger and Norman Bates.  Nice image.

How many of the descriptions you use here are directly (or directly-ish) from the game?  I know the cool player quotes are exact, because you don't waste dialogue that good.


----------



## jerichothebard

Jon, when you get a minute, I would love to see the stats on the tree-born template.  Maybe post that in the rogue's gallery somewhere, and link from here?  That would be cool... and keep up the good work!

jtb


----------



## blackshirt5

Dammit, you need to update faster Jonrog.  I've read through the entire thing, and I NEED MORE!


----------



## joshwitz

Wow!  Excellent story!  I'm really enjoying reading this storyhour.  It's given me a ton of ideas for my own game, though I'm going to have to "step it up" if I want it to compare to your story!

Two questions:

1.) I'm curious as to how many episodes comprise each actual gaming session.  From reading this, I can't tell if the 10 episodes posted here occurred in 1 session or in 10!

2.) How much of the dialog was actually said by the players, and how much are you writing in later?  How different is the story you are posting here from the actual game you run?  Are you taking any "artistic license" to make it read better?  (Ok, that was really 3 questions.  Sorry!)

Thanks for the great story.  Looking forward to reading the next episode!


----------



## Zarthon

Page 3 is no good 

BUMP


----------



## jonrog1

joshwitz said:
			
		

> Wow!  Excellent story!  I'm really enjoying reading this storyhour.  It's given me a ton of ideas for my own game, though I'm going to have to "step it up" if I want it to compare to your story!
> 
> Two questions:
> 
> 1.) I'm curious as to how many episodes comprise each actual gaming session.  From reading this, I can't tell if the 10 episodes posted here occurred in 1 session or in 10!




Hmm, never really keep track of that.  I tend to structure the Story Hours based on the best possible cliffhanger or image rather than sessions.  To the best of my recollection:

Session 1: Escape to Cambragia
Sesson 2:  Accept the job, clean out the Charduni ...
Session 3: Deal with Belloc, etc.

I think it average out to about 3 posts a session.  Not  always -- each of the DarkMatter adventures were one-offs, and each consumes multiple postings.



> _2.) How much of the dialog was actually said by the players, and how much are you writing in later?  How different is the story you are posting here from the actual game you run?  Are you taking any "artistic license" to make it read better?  (Ok, that was really 3 questions.  Sorry!)
> 
> Thanks for the great story.  Looking forward to reading the next episode!_




As much diaolog as possible is real.  It's a room full of writers, and each character is laden with attitude.  Even if it's a tweaked joke, the base comment was always there.  

Thanks for the compliment.  Now that I _think_ I have some time during the holidays, I'll try to catch up.  I'm a year and two new players behind!


----------



## joshwitz

Thanks for the answers!  I was curious because I always underestimate how long encounters take, and my group is starting to take the logs from our game and post them here.  You seem to pace things well, and I learned some things from reading your posts.  

Thanks!

ps - about 6 months ago you asked for a spell point system.  Here's the one we've been using in our game.  It makes 1st level spell-casters more powerful, but weakens high-level ones.  I think that the added flexibility makes up for it, but my players are now ~7th level and starting to grumble.  (They liked it well enough at 1st level though!)

http://www.ave6.net/joshwitz/dnd/house_rules/spellpoints.txt

pps - our game is "The Scourge of the Ratmen"

http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=70272


----------



## caixa

*Oathblades....*

Jonrog,

First I want to thank you for the Core!  Nicely done, and very, very funny.  Can't believe I missed it in theaters.

Now, on to the Oathblades.  I took them from you for my own homebrewed campaign.  Basically the same at first glance (Bastard sword and OA's Samurai class), except I then changed the OA class around a bit.  I've taken the liberty of adding in Monte Cook's Oath feats from Book of Hallowed Might, then developed a Bonus Feats Class List which they get on every third level after seventh (i.e. 10th, 13th, 16th, and 19th).  Using OA's variant rules concerning Honor, along with some homebrewed ones of my own - we've got a pretty good "western samurai" going (western samurai is the label assigned by one of my players).

All in all - I wanted to thank you, for it was this storyhour that inspired me to include the Oathblades into my own game....a game where would-be Paladins distribute justice with a revolver, where arcane spellcasters focus their power through flintlocks, Spirit-seeing Shamans summon lost ancestors, and where the balance of Law and Chaos hang on the hopes of five simple adventurers far too caught up in the pursuit of gold coins to be bother with such "end of the world" politics (again, their words).  Oh, and *evil * is coming....

Peterson (AKA Caixa the Mycabri)


----------



## dpdx

Great Story Hour. Very cool adaptation of Sunless, and big ups to your players for the resolution.

Now update, and make sure Lucas doesn't find out what you called your baddie. 

On edit: rented the Core. Loved the movie, very cool to put a face with a UserID, and DJ Qualls stole every scene he was in, but what a coincidence that every 'incident' happened in or near a Major Population Center of the Western World? Doesn't Djakarta, Nairobi or Sao Paulo get such an attack?


----------



## jonrog1

dpdx said:
			
		

> Great Story Hour. Very cool adaptation of Sunless, and big ups to your players for the resolution.
> 
> Now update, and make sure Lucas doesn't find out what you called your baddie.
> 
> On edit: rented the Core. Loved the movie, very cool to put a face with a UserID, and DJ Qualls stole every scene he was in, but what a coincidence that every 'incident' happened in or near a Major Population Center of the Western World? Doesn't Djakarta, Nairobi or Sao Paulo get such an attack?




Funnily enough,  the lightning storm in the movie originally happened in Buenos Aires in my script.  It was changed because the FX guys wanted bigger, more universally recognizable landmarks to blow up.

DJ's role was originally much bigger, but was trimmed for length.  In the original script, there was a LOT  more conspiracy stuff, not about DESTINY but about how exactly one would go about hiding this sort of thing from the world (one of the reasons I took the job, actually).  Sadly, what I considered interesting as far as big media manipulation, suits found very, very boring.  We were then occasionally pilloried  in the reviews for our unrealistic potrayal of the cover-up. Sigh.

By the way, DJ's character took his handle "Rat" after the Stainless Steel Rat. That speech also went by the wayside in the process.  

All in all, the people who _got_ that we were doing a 1960's science hero movie have enjoyed it immensely.  I'm gratified you took the time to write.  Thanks.


----------



## threshel

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> By the way, DJ's character took his handle "Rat" after the Stainless Steel Rat. That speech also went by the wayside in the process.




YES!  Harrison is awesome!  I've read every SSR book multiple times.

It sucks that was cut.  Although it probably did save me some embarrassment, as I would have lept to my feet and shouted in joy if I had heard that in the theater.  

J
PS I really wish they'd just do the movie already (although they are NOT allowed to screw it up).


----------



## dpdx

jonrog1 said:
			
		

> Funnily enough,  the lightning storm in the movie originally happened in Buenos Aires in my script.  It was changed because the FX guys wanted bigger, more universally recognizable landmarks to blow up.



Aw, see, Buenos Aires is almost homage to Heinlein after _Starship Troopers_. Good choice. I had thought to myself, 'OK, if the Western Power Grid was a smoking ruin because one of those major electrical storms messed with it somewhere in Wyoming, that'd be serious and devastating without being cliché.' But _Apocalypse_ already used Paris, _Deep Impact_ already used NYC, so Rome, London and SF work. Shame I can't identify any Roman landmark besides the Coliseum. But I loves me a good science fiction disaster movie, especially when the CG is up to snuff. And it was, in _The Core_. 



> DJ's role was originally much bigger, but was trimmed for length.  In the original script, there was a LOT  more conspiracy stuff, not about DESTINY but about how exactly one would go about hiding this sort of thing from the world (one of the reasons I took the job, actually).  Sadly, what I considered interesting as far as big media manipulation, suits found very, very boring.  We were then occasionally pilloried  in the reviews for our unrealistic potrayal of the cover-up. Sigh.



I thought Tucci was a little over the top for a guy who was sitting on such a secret. But then again, I don't talk to many 'world-renowned scientists.' Maybe they are.



> All in all, the people who _got_ that we were doing a 1960's science hero movie have enjoyed it immensely.  I'm gratified you took the time to write.  Thanks.



I did, and you're welcome. Now, please update.


----------



## DrZombie

Bugger, reached the end of one of his storyhours again.


----------



## dsfriii

Just found ths story hour and all I have to say is....^&*(**&&^^..(Someones mom just deleted this   )

This is great stuff...

Thank you...


----------



## dsfriii

*Bump*

Bumping because this story hour desires to be on the front page so new people can read (like me...)


----------



## Angcuru

Doesn't anyone ELSE want to know what happened?


----------



## A'vandira Silvermane

My turn to bump. 
And I want, no NEED!!!!!!!!!!!!!! an update.
John, how about it? Bought The Core on DVD, seen it, loved it, still love it, will see it again shortly. Now is about right to quench the need of all your addicted fans with a new UPDATE.
Goes for the DS Girls with Guns as well.


----------



## isepik

*Awesome SH!*

Jonrog,

This is the second of your SHs, I've read and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.  I know it's been 3 years since the last update, but since you have a bit of free time (writers' strike), would you mind updating?  You're newest addict would greatly appreciate that.


----------



## jelmore

At the risk of being labelled a necro-bump, I thought I'd point out that a certain glass-armed gnome makes an appearance in Roger's new _Dungeons and Dragons_ comic.

If you're a fan of the NDCTH arc, I'd suggest picking it up. 

(Oh, I almost forget the zombie orphans...)


----------

