Chapter One
– A new hope…
Jolting and
bobbling along the long neglected road, in the back of a beaten up cart, the
passengers had an increasingly tightening knot in each of their stomachs and
the feeling that they had been duped. If the malnourished shire horse could
have spoken (and let’s face it with the amount of Drow magic still in the air
that was a possibility) it would have said something philosophical like, “You
suckers…”
As it was,
it just passed the occasional bit of wind and looked very forlorn – its brain
had hoped it was going to be a one-way journey from the city, not a return. Thundera’s city gates loomed out of
the mist as they crested the top of a brier strewn hill and the passengers (all five of them) perked up slightly – about the same as if a moulding piece of meat
had just been pushed under the nose of a starving vegetarian druid. Sin’dori (a
wood elf ranger) was. at least. being positive, the journey hadn’t been too bad… Well ok
he had been read to by the weird orange robed wood elf the ENTIRE journey but, if
truth be known, he hadn’t really listened and the occasional nod of the head or
grunt had appeared to keep the monk happy. However, any perkiness gleaned from
the rise of the gate towers out of the morning mist disappeared quicker than a
halfling asked to tidy up after a party as the towers appeared to be half
scolded and in ruin and the mist, well, it turned out to be smoke.
You see all
the passengers had come to Thundera (‘the wonder city of the north’) having been
promised that it was a newly built city, full of wondrous opportunities – the start
of a new life. As Paulos Welleros (the
famed bard of note) was to write after being similarly convinced that the new
city was the place to go:
‘Our nice new town where the shutters are
drawn
Where hope is started and dreams can be borne
Boys on the corner looking for their supper
Boys 'round the green looking for some slaughter
We used to chase dreams, now we chase the dragon
Mine is the ruin with the flag on
In our paradise lost we'll be finding our sanity
In this paradise found we'll be losing our way
For a brave new day
May I slash my wrists tonight?
This fine chaotic night
I was looking for a job so I came to town
I easily adopt when the chips are down
I read the ad about the private schemes
I liked the idea of Thundera
But now I am about to Chundera’
So after a
brief toilet break (against the city’s crumbling wall) and a delay while the
monk (Saru was the odd chaps name) handed out some more mini-scrolls to anyone
within reach, the motley group was escorted to a local tavern where they were
to wait for their host. Scuttling away, mini-scroll in hand, the escort mumbled
something about helping oneself to beer (well, the exact words were, ‘swill as
much grog as you like, you’ll need it and no one gives a crap’) which again
elevated the groups spirits. It may, dear reader, be apparent by now that it
didn’t take much to lift this group of misfits spirits. Even when it appeared
that the only ‘grog’ left was a few bottles of vinegar (that could, or could
not, have been at one time been some sort of wine) and a keg of ale, which
worryingly seemed to slop from side to side in a very slow manner, the manner
in which only very thick, and often very off, liquid seems to. Not that that
slowed the dragon-borne barbarian (Zrayax) or the monk (Saru) down much and it
was soon suggested that they look downstairs for some more sustenance.
Two kegs
were located by a wood elf magic user (Damakos) and Zrayax. Seeing the ease with which the
barbarian lifted the keg onto his shoulder Damakos felt a warm proud feeling emanating
in his midriff (although to be fair it could have been the near three solid jugs
of ale he had just quaffed) as he too hefted the keg onto his shoulder with
ease. Like all good things it came to pass half way up the stairs when the
Zrayax, whom we can only presume had been formulating this sentence in his head
for the last 10 yards, asked,
“why the drow
are you taking an empty keg up?”
A sigh, a
curse, a reddening of the cheeks took place as Damakos tossed the keg off his
shoulder in disgust – straight onto Zrayax’s shaven noggin, who was of course
right behind him. Now, the thump on the head may not have even registered if
Zrayax had not – lost his footing, gone bouncing down the steep set of stone
cellar steps (cracking a couple as his head thudded off them) landed splayed
out at the bottom only to be hit in -the region barbarians seem immensely proud
of- by a full keg of ale!
Game wise this was hilarious and it should be
written for prosperity that this was the MOST damage the wood elf wizard was
going to deal out all night, be it by magic or by weapon.
Eventually
the ‘host’ appeared and tried to, not so successfully now they had seen the
place, ‘big’ up Thundera but this time adding the new arrivals could be part of
this new venture. Indeed, it appeared they were Thundera’s ‘last hope’ as the
place was over-run by brigands, ruffians and neer do wells – as well as having
a ‘rat’ problem!
What were
the newly bonded group to do? Having spent most of their life savings actually
getting here they seemed to have little choice but to oblige and help make the
town great !
At least,
mentioned the monk, there would be lots of depressed people looking for ‘The
WAY’ – and he had lots of mini scrolls left!
Chapter 2
Return of the Duchess…
Mundane
work was easy to find but things hotted up for our intrepid group (dare we now
call them adventurers?) after the local blacksmith contracted them to recover
his stolen tools from a group of ruffians holed up in a cave. Getting to the
cave, in a poor excuse for a crag, just outside the city walls took about 20
minutes – 2o minutes of bickering between Zrayax and… well everyone really.
Apparently it wasn’t the ‘done’ thing to reach up and pet him on the head or try
to get him to play ‘fetch’.
To help
you, dearest reader, to get on with your life the following encounter can be
summarised thus – Saru walked into the cave, “Afternoon men of gentle persuasion
can I interest you dick-heads in some literature…” This was in fact a cunning
plan to get them to run out into the open as the main muscle of the group (the
barbarian) appeared to lack any ability to see in the dark (although it is
rumoured he did eat 8 sacks of carrots a while back to try and rectify this –
but only ended up getting teased for being from Ess Sics where the locals
smear mud on themselves to appear a golden brown colour).
Needless to say the
plan worked, the dwarf and dragon-borne barbarian smashed some heads, the
ranger elf split some eye sockets with arrows, the monk handed out some mini
scrolls, the wood elf cleric they had inherited from the local goal as a
guide had spread some pain about and the elf magic user managed to make a
couple of brigands feel slightly tingly and hot, akin to being in a nice bath.
After an
uneventful trip back the smithy’s gratitude was somewhat diminished when he saw
the dwarf had dropped a crate of tools and broken it, the dwarf swears he wasn’t
trying to throw it on the barbarian’s head for a giggle – but only he really
knows.
After a
peaceful night of slumber at the run down tavern (what goes on in the tavern
stays in the tavern – although between you and me the barbarian was claiming
coitus with the bar maid… the only problem being the bar maid was a bar man!
Must have been the bump on the head) the group headed out to find the ‘Duchess’,
whom it appeared needed to be rescued!
Thinking it
sounded rather noble and suave to rescue such a woman of immense social
standing the group set off to find out more information. Information was
gleaned from a peculiar, colour obsessed man (this is at this point in the
adventure mere speculation) who was the local tailor. Duchess had a dress ready
to collect but had last been seen being carted off by a group of odd looking
hairy beasts who were, it appeared, making a bad job of hiding their tails.
Well, what
can be said about this little joint into the house to rescue the Duchess?
· 'Duchess' was, it appeared, her ‘working’
name, and she had lots of ‘daughters’ – all of whom appeared to work hard too!
· She had no idea why the rat like
humanoids had kidnapped her and as there were non left no-one is probably ever
going to be any the wiser.
· See the last bit of the point above –
reading between the lines will point to the fact the party did quite well!
· There was a little set-back – the monk’s
parkour like somersault over the sewer channel to bounce off the wall and into
a frenzy of bo (6’ staff) strikes on a horde of rats didn’t quite happen as
planned. Unless the plan (and Saru maintains it was) was to dive head-first
into the channel, so deep he was classed as being hidden, only SO he could mount
a sneak attack and kill them!
 |
| Yep that is my original 70'd d20 ! |
So, the
second day in the city, the new group of ‘heroes’ were already getting a name
for themselves with the locals (no, we will not reveal what the name was) and night was drawing in… And, my most dear, reader it is there we leave the tales of
our champions: until next time the scribe catches up with them anyways.
