Temple of Elemental Evil CRPG - Co8 Fan Fic Walk Thru

[Old Book]

This is a fan-fic walk through fro the Temple of Elemental Evil CRPG concentrating on new material added by the Circle of Eight (http://www.co8.org/forum/index.php?). It follows a group of characters through the full game pretty much area by area, and contains hints as to one way to solve most of the game's puzzles. Those hints (as in the case of Redeming Clarice or finding Black Jay's ring) are in the form of short scenes where the characters deal with the problem.

The biggest drawback to this approach from a fiction point of view is that you can really hear the dice rolling in the combats. I'm working on that, but it's tricky. I don't want to completely drop the D&D style of the fights. Of course, the best TSR Authors do just that, so maybe I should just give. ;)

Go-here-kill-that walkthroughs of the game without the Co8 content are available, but this isn't one.

If you're at all interested in ToEE, or if you tried the CRPG and gave up on it, I highly recommend the Co8 mods. They improve the heck out of what was a very flawed game.

If there are any objections to my posting this, please let me know, and I'll delete it ASAP.

All feedback more than welcomed. :)

[Old Book]

Elves in the Temple - A Tale of the Circle of Eight


Part the First

“The princess has yet to return, my lords.”

“What princess?” sang out a half dozen incomparably harmonious and perpetually distracted voices.

*sigh* Glimmersong Wobblebottom had not planned to devote the last century to serving the High-Elven Council. Like most elves, he rarely planned anything at all. Still, in a culture where respectable citizens might decide on a whim to spend a few decades singing songs about butterflies or wandering naked through the woods composing prose poems, Wobblebottom possessed the rare trait of being able to concentrate on trivialities such as where the food was coming from or, in this case, the location of popular members of the royal family.

“Princess Tillahi, my lords, and her current paramour, Lord Juffer,” explained Wobblebottom. “They’re more than a fortnight overdue. It’s quite worrying.”

“Isn’t a tillahi a sort of fish?” sang out Lord Shinything.

Remembering Shinything’s over-fondness for Elven-smoke, Wobblebottom held his patience and kept his voice calm. “No, my lords. Tillahi is of the blood royal, and has been a member of this council for well over three centuries. Tilapia is a sort of fish.”

“I could do with some tilapia” said Shinything, who often found himself peckish in the early afternoon. Immediately two more lords chirped in, singing out short thoughtful odes to tilapia and sweet, haunting ballads on the general subjects of fish and post Elven-smoke snacks. As was to be expected, none of them proposed going out and getting any actual tilapia. More importantly, at least from the point of view of Wobblebottom, not a single elfish lord seemed willing to focus on the matter at hand. Wobblebottom determined to bring things back around to the missing princess.

“My lords,” shouted Wobblebottom, straining his voice in order to be heard above the incessant singing, “our Princess is missing! We must take action!”

While the majority of the council continued to sing, Lord Mountswiftly the Occasionally Coherent dragged himself away from his own hookah of Elven-smoke. Mountswiftly was quite fond of Tillahi (and reasonably fond of tilapia), and vaguely remembered something of her true mission.

“My lords,” boomed out Mountswiftly in a basso profondo quite unusual among the elves, “Wobblebottom is correct! This is a serious issue, and something must be done. I have a plan.”

Wobblebottom sighed in relief. Mountswiftly was well known as the most effective and reasonable member of the council, and the one least likely to turn up at meetings dressed as his favorite flower.

“The precedent for missing princesses is well established,” continued Mountswiftly, “and never fails. We must gather a group of poorly equipped tradesmen, small folk and school children, give them a vague description of the Princess and her entourage, and send them off to the petty hamlet nearest to the site at which she was last seen. Surely, such unlikely and ill-trained heroes shall bring our princess back to us!”

Despite Wobblebottom’s objections, the plan was agreed upon, and messengers were dispatched to gather the young heroes. Had those worthy small folk but known what fate held in store for them, they might very well have run shrieking from those messengers, but then that wouldn’t make for much of a story.

End Part the First

Part the Second

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

I was working on my undergrad degree at UU back in 579. My girl was an Elfish beauty named Kate, and my closest friend was a student my own age named Reynard T. Fox. Anyway, it all started when Kate got a letter from the High Elf Council of Celene.

“They’re looking for interns,” Kate told me. Then she started reading from the letter. “Opportunity for self motivated, pro-active young people in the highly competitive field of professional adventuring and princess rescue. Equal opportunity employer; Mixed parties containing representatives of a minimum of three humanoid races preferred.”

“Brilliant!” I was very excited. It’s tougher than it looks getting into adventuring. The days when you could just massacre a Kobold village and expect a passing noble to give you a job offer are long past.

Kate was a Thaumaturgy major, and I was majoring in Business with minors in Lock-Smithing and General Thuggery. Fox (lucky bastard) was a born spell caster; he’d only enrolled to learn how to scribe. Fox and I were Humans and Kate was an elf, so we were half way there.

“I know some gals” said Fox. He was close to a couple of Theology students, Bar and Perry, and he also recommended we ask his girl Dio along. Dio was in Natural Studies. I swear that guy tried to get into the pantaloons of half the girls in school. At first Kate and I weren’t too enthusiastic, until Fox told us the kicker. Perry was a Dwarf. That made three humanoid races.

“It’s a sure thing” Fox said, and he was right. Fox talked to the girls, Kate sent off a letter to the High Elf Council, and we were in.

Fox introduced us to Bar (major in Applied Violence, minor in Results Oriented Prayer) and Perry (major in Subterranean Theology and a minor in Oerth Science), and we already knew Dio. We all got along well enough. We set off to meet with the High Elves.

“Odd, isn’t it?” We’d been on the road for a couple of days when Fox asked me that. I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Isn’t what?” I asked him.

“It” he said.

“I’m going to thump you now” I said, and tried to. Bar and Perry pulled us apart before things went to far, and then he went on.

“Look,” said Fox, “here we are, not even a bread knife between us, just a couple of ravens, a big dog, and a pouch of cash. How are we meant to do any adventuring like this?”

“You really are a silly Billy, aren’t you my liege?” said Perry. Both I and Fox looked over at her.

“Why does she talk like that?” I whispered to Fox, but she wasn’t done.

“We shall naturally come upon some good merchants well before any danger threatens,” said Perry, “and we shall find that our funds are more than sufficient to adequately equip ourselves with armor and weapons and all manner of things!”

“Been hitting the Elf Smoke?” I asked.

I felt like an idiot when we climbed over the next hill and saw a caravan. Perry looked smug.

The woman in charge of the caravan was gorgeous. Called herself the Jade Empress, though I suspect that was not her real name. Fox immediately started to chat her up, with no noticeable effect.

“Fox, Kate, give me your Ravens” I asked. Fox just handed his over (he’d named his Raven “Greed”; Kate’s was “Avarice”), but Kate argued.

“Why should I give you my Raven?”

“Look,” I said, “I need to haggle with this bunch. They’re hard, experienced merchants, and I’m not. That’s where your Ravens come in. Nothing like a pair of fat black birds glaring madly from your shoulders and crapping down your back to put a scare into a merchant! They’ll make any offer just to get rid of me!”
Kate looked dubious but handed Avarice over.

We did pretty well. By the time we were done, we all had weapons and (except for Fox and Kate, who never learned how to wear it properly) armor.

“What do you think?” Barbara asked, showing off the Gladiator Armor she’d selected. Bar was a tall girl, and healthy, and if you’ve never seen Gladiator Armor, well, I’ll just say that any humanoid male she faces will be too busy staring to attack or block.

“It’s gorgeous!” Enthused Kate, who’d picked out a corset.

Fox and I were very quiet for the next leg of the trip, and I think both of us ended up with neck strain.

End Part the Second

Part the Third

Wobblebottom looked down from a concealed balcony on the six fresh faced young adventurers who had responded to Lord Mountswiftly’s call. To an atypically conservative Elf such as Wobblebottom, the group now milling about the council chambers seemed decidedly unfit for pursuits beyond the Tavern Dancing and Stable Cleaning industries. When he expressed his feelings to Lord Mountswiftly, he was not reassured by his lordship’s response.

“Just so, Wobblebottom,” boomed his lordship, “just so! A fine collection of unlikely heroes! True, we could have done with a pig boy and maybe a shepherd, but this gaggle of academic misfits should do just fine!”

“A shepherd, Lord?” Wobblebottom tried to keep the dismay out of his voice.

“Quite so, Wobblebottom! Remember that Black Jay fellow? The boy in Hommlet? Never met a human so fond of sheep! Went on about them day in and day out! Even kept one in his tent, as I recall. Could barely sleep for the bleating! Prime hero material, shepherds!”

Wobblebottom tried to bring the conversation back to the present. “Your Lordship, what specific instructions am I to deliver?”

“Hmm? You’re to tell the lot of them to head over to Hommlet. Tillahi was meant to check in there Have them ask Jay what’s what and work from there!”

“Yes, Lord,” answered Wobblebottom, “and should I inform them of the Princess’s true mission?”

“What?!” Lord Mountswiftly was so shocked that his voice almost failed to harmonize with the constant background singing omnipresent in Elfish settlements. “We can’t have that, Wobblebottom! They must stumble upon the truth on their own, or possibly with the guidance of surprisingly well informed wandering old men and talking animals! Revealing the Princess’s mission to them now would violate all the laws of narrative!”

Wobblebottom bowed his head in shame. His lordship was quite correct. “It shall be as you say, Lord.”

Wobblebottom headed down the stairs to send the brave young adventurers off to Hommlet. Two of the girls were in outfits that Wobblebottom found most distracting. He was both relieved and disappointed when they left.

At least the interview had marked a pleasant break from the singing.

End Part the Third

[Old Book]

Part the Fourth

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

“Those Elves were something,” said Fox.

I shrugged. “That’s Elves for you. Singing, archery and Elf-Smoke. And really bad poetry. Not much more to them.”

About then, Kate smacked the back of my head. “I’m right here,” she said.

I was still rubbing the back of my head as we climbed over the next rise and saw Hommlet.

“That’s a weird sort of town” said Fox.

“It’s beautiful!” Dio was obviously taken with the place.

Perry was practically jumping up and down. “Yes! A true Adventurer’s Village!”

I groaned. She was right. Hommlet was small, too small. Fewer than a dozen or so cabins and only a couple of fields, yet it supported a well maintained road, a large church, a defensive tower, a tavern, several shops, and what looked like a small Druid’s hut. How could such a small town support that many businesses? Professional Adventuring 101: the Looting Economy.

We’d be lucky if we weren’t mobbed by goblins as soon as we set foot in the place.

We were actually mobbed by a small boy named Kent.

He was a typical farmer’s whelp, cute as a button and cut as a circus performer. Yet, as I talked with him, his eyes never met mine. I tried to trace his gaze.

His eyes were locked on Bar in her Gladiator Armor.

He fell into a sort of trance, babbling about his Master and changes to the world. Unfortunately, I’d made the mistake of looking over at Bar as well, and didn’t really catch much. Kate had to slap me again to snap me out of it, by which time the kid had wandered away.

Bar was smiling like the cat who ate the canary. “Told you it was good armor.”

“Did he say where Black Jay lived?” I asked.

“No” said Kate, for some reason unaccountably angry.

“Alright people,” I said, “You know the drill. Adventurer’s Village. We start with the house furthest down the path on the left and then start moving through the town in a counter clockwise direction, stopping in each home, asking for rumors, and offering to solve every little problem of the villagers. I’ll do most of the talking, but Bar and Perry, I want you two to be ready to step in. Let’s move!”

As we headed to the furthest house down the path on the left, I heard Fox saying to Perry “Why should they tell us their problems?”

“Because we’re perfect strangers,” Perry said in her always optimistic tones. “It is well known that telling your most intimate problems to perfect strangers unburdens the soul, provides friendly entertainment, and allows for the possibility that the stranger may offer some solution, whereas telling these problems to your friends and loved ones is a sure path to becoming a social pariah, most especially in a small town.”

I nodded my agreement. A wise girl, which I suppose was to be expected of a Dwarven Divinity Student,

End Part the Fourth

[Old Book]

Interlude

The unquiet spirit wailed. “A blessing! A blessing from the temple! A blessing from Cuthbert!”

“Well enough,” said Reynard, “we’ll just pop on off to the temple then and…”

“Wait!” said Perry.

“What?” asked Reynard.

“Why Cuthbert? He is a most unsympathetic deity, and is well know to be unpleasantly tall and prone to violence. Why not the blessing of a proper deity, one of a most kindly disposition and a more respectable height?”

“Yondola?” suggested Bar, but she was grinning.

“Garl Glittergold?” put in Jack with a wink to Bar.

“Respectable deities, I grant you,” continued Perry, “but not deity’s who know what it is to labor all day over a hot forge, to turn in an honest days labor. Not, to be blunt, deity’s who understand the lot of the common worker.”

“Wait, isn’t Yondola some sort of house wife? Also, what?” asked Reynard.

“No,” said Perry, “and as to which deity I speak of, it is none other than my own beloved patron, Moradin, the Soul Forger!”

Dramatic music and / or the sound of thunder failed to be heard at this point.

After waiting for a moment, Perry continued. “Poor creature, Clarice, I offer you the blessing of Moradin, the World Smith!” Blue light filled the room, flashing from Perry’s sacred axe (Dwarves tended to prefer Holy Symbols with a practical side to them, though this meant that the clerics of Spud, Lord of Root Vegetables, often found themselves mildly embarrassed). The entire party felt the blessing of Moradin descend upon them.

Clarice continued to wail.

“Bugger” said Perry.

“Well,” said Jack, “it’s not a problem. I saw that Calmert up at the temple had some Scrolls of Bless for sale. We can just go buy one, bring it back here, and give it to Clarice.”

“Wait!” Shouted Perry. “Scrolls? Just a moment.” Perry quickly took her stylus, ink, and a sheet of parchment (actually a page from the 575 Miner’s Almanac with the ink mostly scrubbed off; Dwarves hate to waste paper), and scribbled down the blessings of Moradin. A touch of her sacred axe finished the process; the Scroll of Bless was complete.

“Here, spirit,” declared Perry, triumphantly handing the scroll to poor dead Clarice, “take now the blessing you seek!”

“At last,” declared Clarice, “Praise Cuthbert!” The spirit vanished.

“No!” shouted Perry, “Praise Moradin!”

The party shuffled from the room.

“Another miracle of Cuthbert” said Bar.

“Yes,” said Jack, “Praise Cuthbert.”

“Stop it!” said Perry, “Just stop it! Praise Moradin!”

As the group left the herdsman’s shack, Perry shifted her knapsack. “Why is my pack heavier?”

End Interlude

[Old Book]

Part the Fifth

The hardy band of adventurers strode purposefully across the greensward.

Well, more accurately, the small group of young men and women carefully negotiated their way across a cow pasture and towards a cabin, bickering.

“Sire,” said the comely (by Dwarf standards) female Dwarf, “I must point out again that this witch’s scavenger hunt on which we are engaged is a most unworthy side quest! I might even describe it as Evil!”

Jack was not in a good mood. He was hot, and tired, and more than a little hung over. “Perry, I am not your Sire!” He gathered himself and tried to keep his voice calm. “Look, we agreed that we would do all the side quests we could in the village before heading out of town. We’re not ready to face serious combat yet. We haven’t even found Black Jay to ask where the next leg of this adventure will lead us!”

“I thought we were going after some bandits” said Kate, a bow carrying Elf in a most immodest corset.

“Yes, I thought bandits in that Moathouse place as well,” said Reynard, moving his spear from one shoulder to the other, “several townsfolk have mentioned it.”

“Look,” barked Jack, “we don’t know that Tillahi went anywhere near those bandits! Even if we did, we’re not ready for them!” He drew a breath and continued. “It’s basic adventuring. We solve all the little problems of the townsfolk first, and then we tackle the wilderness. We only have two more townsfolk to speak with; this woodsman and that weird shepherd.”

“The one dressed all in black,” asked Kate.

“Yes,” continued Jack, carefully avoiding a bit of cow pasture closer to nature than he liked. “As to your objections Perry,” now in a conciliating tone, “I understand. I want you to know that I’d never ask any of you to do anything actually Evil.”

“My lord,” said Perry, “you had us kill the weaver’s tenants.”

“They were goblins,” said Jack a bit defensively, “and it was self defense. The one in the pointy hat stabbed me!”

“You asked us to kill those spiders in the tavern,” grumped the normally quiet Dio, “and that talking rat.”

“The spiders were the size of dogs, and the rat must have weighed sixty pounds! They were giant vermin!” Jack felt that he was again losing control of this conversation. “We freed that ghost woman in the herdsman’s house from her torment! That’s a good deed!”

Perry’s voice, normally sweet, was showing anger now. “It was a deed most foul, my lord, when you stole those scrolls from the Church. Had I seen you, I would never have permitted it.”

“We needed those! You used one to heal the leatherworker’s brother in law! Still good deeds all around!” Jack took a deep breath. “We’ve helped two couples find love…”
“Three, maybe four” interrupted Reynard, smiling at the thought of a farm girl.

“Four!” Jack turned his full attention back to Perry. “Three or four couples, maybe. We’ve exposed three spies, sort of, when the time is right to tell the authorities! We’re practically saints to these people!”

“Sire,” said Perry, her tone showing that despite her high Wisdom, Jack’s Bluff was working, “you made a deal with a demon.”

Jack looked Perry straight in the eye. In his voice was perfect sincerity. “He wasn’t a demon. He just had a skin condition.”

Perry nodded her head grudgingly, and the group arrived at the woodcutter’s cabin.

End Part the Fifth

[Old Book]

Part the Sixth

“I’m poisoned!” wailed Reynard.

Persephone Stronginthearm, Dwarf Cleric, also known as Perry, sighed and shifted her grip on her axe. Just minutes earlier, things had been going so well.

The woodcutter of Hommlet had proposed a most worthy task, ridding a grove of hideous, man eating (as well as, presumably, Dwarf, Elf, Gnome and Halfling eating) spiders. It was a very direct and traditional sort of side quest, and came as a great relief to a Dwarf who had found her faith in the inherent Goodness of her party leader strongly tested in recent days. Kate had quickly scribbled off a few scrolls of Sleep, Perry had scribbled out a few scrolls of Cure Light Wounds, and off the gang enthusiastically (with the exception of Dio, who pouted a bit) went to explore the Deklo Grove.

At which point, as Perry would later say, things plunged swiftly down ye old oubliette. Rather than facing the party fairly on open ground, the giant spiders of the grove had lurked in the trees. The creatures, quite nearly the size of horses, dropped down and drenched the party in waves of sticky webbing.

Reynard had somehow managed to avoid entanglement. Inexplicably, rather than make use of a scroll of sleep, Reynard the Fox chose to charge forward, spear leveled, and skewer one of the spiders. At this he succeeded, doing the beast considerable harm, and also leaving himself well beyond the protection of his better armored friends.

Dio, Jack and Persephone herself struggled fruitlessly to free themselves from the sticky strands of twine-thick webbing, while Bar with shocking swiftness dropped her glaive and brought out her longbow, stringing it and loosing an arrow in less time than it takes to say it! Unfortunately, she missed, but later everyone agreed that it had been a most valiant effort.

Kate meanwhile did not forget the plan. Forgoing direct spell-casting that might be disrupted by the sticky webbing, she drew upon the power of a Scroll of Sleep and sent arcane energies arcing through the ether, intent on dragging down an enormous eight legged enemy into enchanted slumber! And it might have worked, had luck been with them. Unfortunately, the big bug shook off the spell, and Kate’s efforts accomplished bugger all.

At this point, the spiders struck again. The wounded beast facing Reynard leapt past his spear and sunk its venomous fangs into flesh. “I’m poisoned!” screamed Reynard, collapsing. The second spider charged swiftly across the web, sinking its own bite into Dio’s war dog.

As swiftly as things had gone bad, they got better. Dio, Jack and Perry waited for Bar and Kate. Bar smoothly released another arrow, and this time with it stuck the wounded spider crouched above Reynard, dropping that creature into unconsciousness (and, also, onto Reynard). Kate read off another Scroll of Sleep, and the second spider failed to resist its call, falling deeply into slumber.

The battle seemed to be over. The young adventurers began the painful process of pulling themselves free from the sticky webs.

“My friends,” said Perry, “we happy few have won a victory here this day…”

She might have said more, but just then a gang of crazed kobolds swarmed the clearing.

As Dio had moved forward to check on the unconscious Reynard, a Kobold Sergeant leaped at her from the undergrowth, barely missing with a cruel swing of its axe. Kobolds are small, sad, and rather comical looking creatures, bipedal dog-like lizards the size of a large human child. However, as it is difficult to laugh with an axe in your belly, few peasants found the appearance of Kobolds an immediate subject of mirth.

This time the party was better prepared. Kate held back for a moment, allowing additional Kobolds to leap from the woods before casting a spell of Sleep, dropping a number of them to the ground. Bar charged forward, putting away her bow and picking up her glaive with practiced fluidity, and struck the Sergeant a terrible blow than very nearly split him in two. Dio missed a scimitar strike at one of the remaining monsters, but Jack was able to spear both that Kobold and the one beside it in a single charge!

As swiftly as that, the fight was done.

Jack merrily stabbed the sleeping Kobolds while Perry attended to Reynard’s wounds. Dio looted the body of the Kobold Sergeant, making a noteworthy discovery. Bypassing Jack, she brought her find to Persephone.

“This is wonderful!” loudly exclaimed Persephone, startling the still groggy Reynard (and making an unwelcome contribution to his spider-venom induced migraine). She displayed Dio’s discovery, a lovely platinum ring, to the group. “This ring is inscribed ‘From Jay’; it is surely the property of the Elf Friend we seek! We shall return to Hommlet, present it to him, and prove our good intent!”

Jack nodded, perhaps a touch reluctantly. “Sounds like a plan. Now, help me check the bodies.”

Next: Drinks and Druids

End Part the Sixth

[Old Book]

Part the Seventh: Of Drinks & Druids

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

Killing the spiders in the grove was a turning point for all of us. We were filled with a new sense of purpose and energy. We felt ready to take things to the next level.

We headed back to town, told the woodcutter he could head back into the grove, and learned that his daughter was ill. In part as a peace offering to Perry and Dio, I agreed to talk with Jaroo (the local High Druid) about it. Jaroo told us to keep an eye out for something called a Swamp Lotus. Dio knows plants, so I figured she’d know it if we found one.

“No worries,” Dio assured me, “it’s Narrative Law. Jaroo told us the Swamp Lotus is out there; we’ll find it.”

OK, technically I “hoped” Dio’d know a Swamp Lotus if we spotted it.

We then headed up to the Tower of Burne (the Mage of Hommlet) to do some shopping.

Kate scribed and traded huge numbers of scrolls containing trivial cantrips for some of Burne’s collection of more powerful Wizard spells. Once again, the Ravens came in handy; no merchant can concentrate on deal making while staring into those horrible, beady little eyes.

Bar was chatting with Pishella, Burne’s apprentice, while I tried to avoid talking to Burne or Rufus (his bodyguard).

I guess I should explain why I didn’t want to talk with them.

Part of the reason Perry was getting snippy with me was that we’d uncovered spies in the village. Two of the town traders were in the pay of someplace called the Temple of Elemental Evil. I used that information to force the traders to reveal the location of the local bandit’s lair, and tried to use it to get them to tell us where the Temple was. Perry thought we should just turn them in to Burne, but I wasn’t so sure. I thought we could get more out of them.

Perry was pissed about other things. We’d killed some goblins lodging in the weaver’s place. OK, they were legally there, but one of the little buggers stabbed me. No regrets. We’d also borrowed a cup of sugar from a really big guy with serious skin problems.

OK, so he was probably a demon. What were we supposed to do? If we’d jumped him, he’d have killed us.

I did feel bad about killing the talking rat.

After we were done with Burne we headed over to talk to the shepherd in black. Turned out he was Black Jay. We gave him his ring and solved a problem for him, and he pointed us again towards the Moathouse. It was clear where things were headed.

We headed towards the tavern for one more night’s preparation and drinking before setting out.

So like I said, there was this sense of energy in the air. We were almost ready. Bar got herself into a drinking contest with a couple of tough looking mercenary types and a couple of townies, and Fox got himself into a nasty argument with Dio.

“Dionysia, please, try to understand” Fox was saying. Then she punched him. Good shot, too. Took him clear off the bench.

“You are not bringing your farm girl along!” She stomped off to sit with Perry. I helped Fox up.

“That didn’t go well,” he said.

:”You think?” I replied.

“I’m sorry things went this way. I really am,” he said.

He was looking at me with worried eyes. He was either telling the truth or pulling a better con than I’d ever seen him try. He went on.

“Look, Dio was just a friend. Meleny …” he paused, and looked away. “Meleny is something really special. She’s interesting, and cute, and she laughs at everything I say.” He looked back at me, trying to make the sale. “She’s a Druid, and she knows the area. She’d make a great addition to the group. We can always use another spell-caster.”

“Funny,” I said, “she doesn’t look Druish.”

Fox just stared at me. We’d been buddies forever; I saw he was serious.
“So, you’re dumping the cute Druid you were dating foe a cuter Druid you’ve just met, and you want to take the new girl along?”

“Yes,” said Fox.

“OK,” I said, “I’ll have a talk with Dio. Kate, Perry and Bar should be OK with it. Kate and Bar won’t care much, and Perry thinks you’re a bad influence on Dio anyway.”

“Thanks” said Fox.

I thought it would be a good move. Meleny was OK, Fox was a friend, and I’d never seen him this flipped over a girl before. Besides, that farmer had a sword hanging over his mantle that looked magical. If we played our cards right, Mel’s father might throw the sword in as part of the deal.

Maybe Perry was right about me. There comes a time in each mans life when he must ask “Am I Good, or am I Neutral?”

I was thinking more than was good for me when Bar staggered over, having lost the drinking contest again. She was looking good, and the fire light and alcohol flush were combining to make that Gladiator Armor even more distracting than usual. She gave me a boozy smile.

“I can’t decide” she said.

“Decide?” I pulled my head up and fixed my eyes on her face, despite calls from certain parts of my brain to let my gaze drift down.

“I can’t decide,” she said, still smiling, “whether to let myself get in touch with my inner rage, or to open myself to the Divine.”

At this point I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but considering little Dio and Fox I didn’t want another member of my party getting in better touch with her rage. “Opening yourself sounds good,” I said, and then immediately wished I hadn’t.

Bar laughed, got up, tripped a little, and patted me on the shoulder.

That really was good armor.

“Rage will give me speed,” she said, “but I’ve always wanted to give myself to Kord. I think I need to go to bed.” She headed off to her room.

I wondered who Kord was at the time. Later, when I found out, it put the conversation in a different light.

The next morning, when we headed to the Moathouse, we were a stronger team. Perry, Kate and Fox had scrolls in their packs, and Bar was wearing a chain with a miniature two-handed sword around her neck. Perry and I had talked with Dio, and it seemed very unlikely she’d kill Fox. We picked up the farmer’s daughter, Meleny, and headed out of town.

End Part the Seventh

Next: Frogs and Spiders

[Old Book]

Part the Eighth: Frogs and Spiders

Dionysia scowled and tightened her grip on her scimitar as she moved cautiously ahead of her so-called friends, making sure that the swampy ground would support the group. Her dog, a grey and nameless half-wolf brute, protectively hung close by her side.

The words that Dionysia muttered under her breath would have shocked her pious mother, but Dio couldn’t think of any more polite adjectives that adequately described her current feelings towards the lot of them.

She glanced back over her shoulder, not technically correct behavior while scouting, in the hopes that one of them at least would have noticed her angry silence. Well, silence apart from the cursing.

No luck. “Profane-noun-verb-pair noun obscene-gerund noun” muttered Dio. Her dog looked curiously upwards, and then returned to snuffling for interesting dead things in the swamp.

Dio continued to stare.

Reynard, her beautiful Reynard, was whispering and giggling with his new farm girl. “Noun!” Dio hissed.

They were standing close, and the part of Dio that was always in balance had to admit they looked natural together. Reynard, tall and lean, handsome face all grin, big brown eyes and shaggy red-brown hair. The farm girl, smiling, young and slim and subtle curves well displayed by the leathers he’d given her, leathers matching Reynard’s close cut robes.

Dio pulled her eyes away and forced herself to pay attention again to the swamplands. She patted the dog.

There was a suspiciously well maintained path, with swampy water on either side. The path lead to small fortress, the Moathouse, squatting in the swamp like a big, grey, squatting thing. A huge, grey green, fat, wet, squatting what?

“A frog!” loudly exclaimed Dio, “A giant frog!”

As Dio let loose this shout, a pair of huge creatures exploded from the water on either side of the trail. They were big, bigger than bears. Hairless monstrosities, covered in slime. They leaped forward impossibly, their hind legs enormous, their eyes like plates, and their mouths impossibly wide.

They looked exactly like giant frogs.

“Well spotted!” called Perry, charging forward between the rest of the group and the beasts, raising her shield and axe and then waiting for the creature’s approach. Jack and Bar leaped forwards as well, Jack bringing his long spear to the ready position and moving slightly behind Perry to her left, Bar un-slinging her glaive and positioning herself on Perry’s right.

Reynard gestured dramatically, spreading his arms wide and shouting out words of power. The magic poured from him and into Bar, swelling her muscles, distorting space around her. In an instant, Bar was suddenly a small giantess, over 10 feet in height, her armor and glaive larger as well.

Jack blinked. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

Reynard grinned. “Enlarge Person! Good, isn’t it?”

“Eyes on the fight!” shouted Kate. The blue-haired elf called up a protective second skin of magic, then strung her bow.

Dio realized that she had been watching when she should have been acting. Raising her own wooden shield and shifting her grip on her scimitar, drew energy from the ground beneath her feet to boost her speed, and charged forwards to just behind Perry. The dog ran behind her.

“What should I do?” called Meleny, the farm girl, even as she brought up her crossbow and loosed a bolt into the swamp.

“You’re doing fine, snooky!” called Reynard.

“I love you, my love!” called Meleny.

“You are the light of my heart!” called Reynard.

Dionysia snarled. The dog, catching her mood. whined.

One of the frog-things leaped at Perry, her shield barely deflecting its strike! Rolling back, the chain-mail clad Dwarf swung her axe viciously at the monstrous amphibian, but the blade turned on its slime coated hide!

The other amphibian ignored a glancing blow from Jack’s spear as it lunged at Dio, catching the girl in its massive jaws! Dio gasped with pain as bone bent and flesh tore, blood spilling into swamp water.

Jack re-positioned himself, braced, and plunged his spear deep into the side of the beast, drenching himself in its fluids.

Spinning, green light shining from her skin, the now gigantic Barbara clove her glaive through the monster’s spine, showering Jack in gore, and in a continuation of the same blow brought the glaive down, deep down into the lower back of the other frog.

“Did you see that!?!” shouted Barbara. “Kord rules! Kord!”

“Praise Kord” muttered Jack, using his free hand to hurriedly wipe frog blood and swamp slime from his face and eyes.

“Courage, honey bunny!” Reynard called out to Meleny. He gestured, and energy flashed from his hands and eyes into Dionysia. Space seemed to shift and twist, and the young woman’s body and equipment doubled in size, adding a second human giant to the field.

Dio looked down at the remaining frog-thing, suddenly smaller in her eyes, and brought the blade of her now-massive scimitar down upon its back. The monster’s back broke; it croaked its last. Dio stood, confused, in the sudden silence. Fox had fed her strength. Her Fox had …

“You’re wonderful, my love!” called out Meleny, throwing her arms around Fox. “You did it!”

Dio, still gigantic, turned towards the farm girl, her eyes displaying murderous intent.

It was probably a very good thing that, just then, two more giant frogs hopped from the swamp.

Kate acted quickly. The Elf’s blue hair flew wildly as she charged forwards, calling out the syllables of a sleep-charm. The air seemed to ripple as one of the two charging swamp-beasts was forced into slumber.

Dio spun about, continuing to twirl as her scimitar smashed through the skull of the second frog-monster, showering her in gore as she killed the creature with a single blow.

Dripping with blood, both her own and that of the frog, Dio felt better. As Jack butchered the frog Kate had brought down, Perry stepped to Dio and whispered prayers of healing. Dio’s wounds closed.

“Is all well with you, my friend?” Perry asked.

“I’ve got to find some swamp lotus” muttered Dio, eyes downcast.

The party cautiously moved forwards.

Well, cautiously except for the dog, stubby tail furiously waggling.

“The pain of the heart is no less real than the pain of the body,” said the Dwarf, keeping pace with her currently enormous Human friend.

“Heart pain is body pain,” said Dio, smiling slightly, “you treat it with white willow bark and foxglove.” Her smile faded.

Yet another giant frog leaped from the swamp. Jack’s spear and Bar’s glaive held it back, while Kate’s fired an arrow that failed to find its mark.

“A little help here!” shouted Jack.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” shouted Dio to Perry, fumbling a scimitar swipe at the frog.

“Talk about what?” shouted Jack.

“What are we talking about?” Reynard asked, again twisting space and leaving the Dwarf, Perry, just over nine feet tall.

“Nothing!” Dio barked, blushing furiously.

Perry, employing her magically augmented mass and reach, landed a terrible blow to the side of the giant frog. “We were just discussing heart pain and its treatment!” She called.

“Jaroo says you treat heart problems with white willow bark and foxglove” said Meleny, firing yet another crossbow bolt harmlessly into the undergrowth.

Dio’s large dog lunged forwards out of the swamp water and tore into the side of the frog. The amphibian died.

As the seven adventurers and one large, wet dog entered the Moathouse courtyard, Jack raised his hand.

“Careful. There are bound to be …”

At which point, Dio’s dog charged into the courtyard, provoking an attack by hidden crossbowmen.

“Wait for it!” shouted Jack.

One crossbowman fired a bolt that struck the dog, leaving a bloody gash along its side. A concealed swordsman leaped from behind cover, charged, and struck the dog a second bloody blow.

“Dog!” called Dio.

“Hold!” called Jack, “For the gods sake wait!”

Jack, Perry, and Bar moved out into the courtyard, bringing the full area into view, revealing yet more bandits.

Dio gestured and called out, her cry charged with magic, and the world answered. A huge, snarling wolf appeared behind the swordsman that had struck at Dio’s dog.

“I can do that!” Meleny let out her own call to nature, begging the world to hear her. The sky answered, and a small owl swooped down beside the wolf.

Dio refrained from comment.

Kate and Fox moved forward slightly, and each loosed a charm of sleep, Fox incanting from a scroll, Kate using magic held in memory. Instantly, two crossbowmen and two swordsmen fell.

Perry, Jack and Bar moved forward. Blood drenched work followed.

After the courtyard was cleared of bodies, Reynard’s space-distorting enchantments faded, and the conjured animals fled. Dio set out to search the swamps. Bar tended the dog.

Later, on Dio’s return, the news was not promising.

“No swamp lotus out there” Dio told Jack.

“I see.” Jack thought for a moment. “Did you check the frog’s bodies?”

“Yes. They swallowed a bandit or two, but no swamp lotus.”

Jack nodded, and looked around the courtyard. The doors to the Moathouse were inviting, but a small watch tower in the courtyard’s corner drew his gaze. “We’ll camp there,” Jack announced. “A roof to keep the rain off and we can bar the door.”

As the young adventurers entered the tower, a giant spider dropped from above, spraying them with webbing.

“I hate these things!” shrieked Kate, releasing the power of a Scroll of Sleep to down the creature. Reynard rushed forward to kill the slumbering arachnid, as the others examined their temporary home and prepared to make camp.

Much later, over a bubbling pot of frog and spider soup, Dio and Perry talked.

“We did well today, my friend” said Perry, offering Dio another serving of the night’s repast.

“Yes,” said Dio, “I guess we did.” Dio’s dog rested at her feet, worrying at a frog bone.

At least, she hoped it was a frog bone.

“We were a team,” said Perry. “This small band took down no fewer than six monsters, and eight hardened killers. We work well together.”

“Even the farm girl?” said Dio, looking Perry in the eye.

“Even the farm girl,” said Perry, meeting Dio’s gaze.

“I guess.” Dio looked down.

Perry gently placed a calloused hand on Dio’s shoulder. “Ehlonna, your patron, teaches that there is a time when all things pass. I know the pain in this, but always growth and pain walk together.”

Dionysia smiled, slightly. “So what does Moradin say a Dwarf should do if her boyfriend dumps her?”

Perry smiled in return. “Doctrine suggests hitting the wandering male with a large hammer, but in recent days there has been some debate on this.”

As the two women laughed, at the far end of the room, wrapped in Reynard’s bedding, the farm girl prayed to the deities of the Old Faith.

“Please,” Meleny whispered, “please, send me a companion, a guardian. I am a true follower; send me a sign.” The powers of land and sky seemed to listen; for an instant, within the tower, the world seemed to hold its breath.

With a surge of wind, a 12 pound hen, perfect in all proportions, appeared beside the farm girl.

“Cluck?”

End Part the Eighth

Next: Rats in the Walls

[Old Book]

Part the Ninth: Rats in the Walls

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

We spent that night in the Moathouse watch tower. It was a pretty good night, too. Bar had a few of her Applied Violence 302: Quick Draw texts with her, and she let me work with them. She was doing a two-weapon drill half the night.

Long blade in her right hand, dagger in her left, she spun and danced through that cramped guard tower. Her muscles moved smoothly under fire-lit skin, her body and weapons working in beautiful and frightening harmony. Twice she accidentally kicked Dio’s dog. The dog ran and jumped around her feet after that.

I saw Perry talking with Dio, probably a good thing. Somehow Perry got Dio laughing. The two of them got out Perry’s port-a-desk and Perry started working Dio through some basic scribing.

“What are you reading?” Kate asked me, putting her hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her face. It took me a while; she was still wearing that corset, and my eyes got caught for a bit on their way up. Kate was grinning when I finally met her violet gaze.

“Some of Bar’s books,’ I said, “basic fighting stuff.”

Kate moved in front of me, putting one hand on each shoulder. Avoiding letting my eyes wander became a struggle. Her grin got wider. “So you’re interested in fighting?”

“Among other things.” I tried to pull her down; a light kiss, and then she pulled away.

“You really think the Princess Tillahi is somewhere in here?” She looked serious.

Over in the corner, where Fox and his new girl were bedding down, there was a sudden loud squawking. The biggest chicken I had ever seen was jumping up and down among the blankets. Dio’s dog, already over-excited from playing with Bar, took after the chicken like a shot.

That chicken sure could move.

The two of them raced in circles, the room full of yaps and squawks and flying feathers. Up they went over the short watchtower stairway, down again across the floor, banking off the walls, the dog knocking over first Perry’s port-a-desk and then the soup pot. Frog and spider soup spread in an unappetizing tide across the floor, and then the dog and chicken ran through it on their next pass.

Finally Dio called her dog over and got the thing under control, and the chicken went back to stand squawking by Meleny’s feet and glare with offended chicken dignity at the dog. The soup was already soaking into our bedding.

“I wanted an animal companion” Mel explained, near tears.

Fox held her and started in with soothing noises (“It’s OK, pumpkin” type of thing) while Dio grinned like a mad woman and helped Perry get her port-a-desk back together. The rest of us cleaned up the sleeping area as best we could. The bedding would smell like soup for a long time.

“You never answered my question” said Kate as we finished up.

I was still tired from the days hiking and fighting, and more so from the great dog and chicken battle. Still, I answered as best I could. “I don’t know.”

Kate just looked at me.

I shrugged. “We’ve talked to everyone in town. The rumors lead here and maybe to that Temple. So, we go in here and see what we can find. If we’re lucky, Tillahi will be somewhere inside. If not, maybe we’ll learn where the Temple is. If we don’t get even that far, it’s still a chance to make the area a little safer and help ourselves to a small fortress full of bandit loot.”

“I love it when you talk all Adventurer” said Kate, and crawled under the blankets.

The next morning, we headed into the Moathouse.

“Achoo!” Barbara sneezed. She was a healthy girl with strong, capacious lungs, and she had a sneeze that’d make a veteran jump out of his boots. “Sorry,” she said, “allergies.”

The Moathouse was filthy, rubble and garbage everywhere. Imagine a mulch pile in high summer after a three day rain; now imagine eating it. That’s the stench of the Moathouse.

Rats the size of large dogs pushed trails through the muck. They ignored us.

“Try talking to them” suggested Reynard.

I looked at him.

“You talked to the one in the Tavern.” He was grinning.

I considered throwing some muck at him, but decided that wouldn’t suit my role as party leader. Also, I didn’t want to touch it. I settled for a glare, but it didn’t have much effect.

There was a big pair of double doors, two single doors and a hall visible from the entrance. I stalked forwards cautiously through the room, in part trying to stay quiet, but mostly because I didn’t want to get any more rat droppings and other assorted filth on my clothes than I had to.

“Try the double doors,” Bar suggested through her sniffling, “bound to be something nasty through there.”

“I’m being stealthy here!” I barked, and then felt like an idiot. I straightened up and opened the door on the south wall.

Snake. Big snake. Very big snake and many blood sucking birds.

One dead very big snake and many dead blood sucking birds later, we tried the door on the south west wall.

We entered a disused barracks.

Kate let out a shriek and a string of curses as a tick bigger than a human child lunged for her leg. A scimitar blow from Dio and a poke from Fox’s spear took care of it.

“This place is disgusting!” Kate continued cursing, now in Elvish (a great language for rhyming cleanliness related profanity).

As we entered the storage room at the end of the hall, I spotted a gigantic lizard before it was able to spot us. Just as I was about to move in and deal with it, Meleny whispered “Please, let me help!”

I looked at her, and then nodded.

Stepping into the room bold as brass, she began calling out “Who is a little snuggle lizard? You’re beautiful! You’re mommy’s little cuddle woo, yes you are!”

I fully expected the giant lizard to kill her.

Instead, eyes shining, the huge thing wandered amicably over and rolled onto its back by her feet. Meleny kneeled down and started scratching its belly.

“Who’s a little cuddle boy? You’re such a sweetie, aren’t you?” Mel cooed. The creature made a happy lizard noise, its eyes still showing that odd glow.

I smiled and went to work on a chest on the south wall. The rest of the group wandered in, glancing over at Mel and the lizard. Fox was smiling so wide I thought his head would drop off. Even Dio looked grudgingly approving, which was more than I’d expected.

“Have a look!” I showed the gang the loot. One very nice crossbow, a valuable suit of armor, some silver tipped crossbow bolts, and some cash.

“Catch” I called to Mel, tossing her the crossbow. I met Perry’s gaze and she nodded. Mel smiled like I’d just given her a medal, checked and wound her new crossbow, and passed her old one to Fox.

The whole party got ourselves together and headed back to the entrance chamber, five humans, one Dwarf, one Elf, one dog, a giant lizard (still following Mel) and a large chicken.

Perry opened the double doors on the north east wall. We sent the giant lizard in first.

What followed was quick.

“Wall!” I called, moving forward and bringing up my spear. I saw Perry take a step back and start muttering prayers. Bar stepped forwards, raising her long blade and bringing up a wooden shield while praying herself.

Two of the bandits rushed forwards and slashed ineffectually at the giant lizard. A third charged past the monster, taking a vicious bite to the leg in the process, and swung at Perry.

Fox and Kate chanted, and the biggest of the bandits fell unconscious along with one of his crossbowmen. Dio brought up her shield and completed the wall, while calling out another prayer; a large wolf appeared by the fallen bandit leader. Mel stood back and let out her own prayer, and a smaller wolf appeared.

“All this singing,” said Bar, “it’s like an Elven Council meeting!”

“Verb you” said Kate.

The bandits were now trapped in a small room with two wolves and a giant lizard. Their leader was down. I and Fox had our spears, Kate had her bow, and Mel had her new crossbow. It was a slaughter.

After the battle ended, we were tired but more confident. It was a good feeling.

“Sire,” asked Dio, “shall we continue our search for the Princess?”

I shook my head. “We need some rest. We’ll come back and clean this place out tomorrow.”

Mel in particular was looking proud of herself, and with reason. She’d even managed to shoot one of the bandits. “May I keep Mister Lizard?” she asked. Before I could answer, Dio spoke up.

“Yes,” said Dio, “but he sleeps in the corner with you and Reynard.”

“Thank you!” cried Meleny, “Oh thank you! He’s such a funny lizard! I’ll take good care of him!”

Dio's expression was strange as we headed back to the Moathouse watch tower.

That night, after we bedded down, the odd look went out of the eye of the lizard, and it took a good sized chunk out of Fox before we were able to put it down.

I spotted Dio grinning ear to ear as Meleny panicked. Perry and Barbara prayed over Fox’s wound until it closed.

End Part the Ninth

Next: Rob Zombies

[Old Book]

Part the Tenth: Rob Zombies

Fire blazed from the hands of Hekate of Celene, destroying a creature of living slime and the animated corpse beside it. A second fungal creature fell from the ceiling, splashing itself across her pale skin. The noxious mildew reek of the thing warred with the stench of roasted corpse-flesh and the background swamp-stink of the Moathouse. The resulting odor, Kate would later remark, made one profoundly distrustful of the entire idea of the nose.

All was chaos in the large chamber, three adjoining rooms that had served as dungeon, torture chamber and storage area when the Moathouse had been a working fortress. Most of Kate’s companions were scattered through the area, chasing down the place’s fleeing animated corpse-guardians. Kate herself now staggered in front of the entry stairs, together with Reynard’s farm girl, Dio’s dog, and the farm girl’s own attack chicken.

As the slime-thing gathered itself for a second surging attack on Kate, Dio’s dog lunged at it, canine jaws inflicting significant injury. The farm girl herself held a small sphere of fire in her hands; she released it, boiling away yet more of the slime creature in a puff of fetid steam. Even the attack chicken got in a noticeably nasty peck.

Kate pulled herself back and loosed an arrow into the creature’s semi-liquid body, yet still it died not. The thing struck again, narrowly missing. As it gathered itself for a third strike at Kate, Meleny the farm girl released a second fiery sphere. The flame struck, and, with a hiss of putrid gas, the unclean thing stopped moving.

Meleny gave Kate a proud and frightened smile. Kate, black corset contrasting with slime drenched white skin and blue hair, forced herself to smile back.

“Gods,” muttered Kate, “I need a bath.”

The two young women, and the dog and chicken, moved towards the west end of the chambers and rejoined their friends.

Meleny sent a venomous glare towards Dio; Dio, currently engaged in dismembering a still-animated corpse, did not appear to notice.

Kate joined Jack Swift, the group’s nominal leader, in the north west corner of the room. Jack was using the point of his spear to search through the rags covering a well preserved corpse.

“What,” asked Kate, “do you expect to find in a zombie’s rags?”

Just then, Jack’s spear point clinked against something metallic concealed in an inner fold of the dead man’s wrappings.

Jack smiled like a shark as he flicked away a rag and picked up a small, silver box.

Kate tried to hide her surprise.

“Always check the bodies,” said Jack, examining the miniature chest. “Business 115, Prof. Garrote. Good class.”

Jack turned to Kate, holding out his prize. “You think this is magic?”

Kate took the small silver chest, barely the size of a big human’s hand. Despite gods-knew-how-long in the possession of a walking dead man, the thing shone as if freshly polished. “Looks like it,” said Kate, slipping it into her belt pouch, “I can check later.”

Kate and Jack joined the others in the small torture chamber to the south west. Perry approached her.

“Are you injured, my friend?” asked the Dwarf, already checking the damage the slime beast’s acid had done to Kate’s skin.

Kate smiled slightly. “You can start praying for me any time now.”

Perry did so, the magic in her words easing pain and healing flesh, as Kate looked with interest at the fairly obvious secret door concealed in the western pillar.

Jack spotted it a moment later. “Hey, look at this” he called proudly, opening the door and revealing a concealed ladder. Kate said nothing; her human was cute when he thought he was clever.

“Should we head down?” asked Reynard.

Jack shook his head. “We still haven’t checked those rooms to the north, or the one to the east. We’ll come back later.”

The group gathered by the stairs back to the surface, while Jack moved out, quiet as a cat, to check the other rooms.

Kate noticed that Meleny, Reynard and Perry were clumped together, speaking softly, while Barbara cleaned her glaive and Dio, affecting cool disinterest, checked the animals for wounds. Kate approached Bar.

“How long will this keep up?” she asked the warrior woman, nodding her head towards the two camps.

Bar gave a small, tight smile. “By the Teachings of Kord, the stages of grief are Block, Strike, Dodge, Retreat, and Surrender. Dio has been through Block and Strike. She only has three moves to go.”

Kate briefly considered this. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jack returned, taking some pride in getting right into the center of the group before anyone spotted him. “nothing of interest in the rooms to the north except a chest full of these things.” He handed around some rather nice (well, mildewed and moth eaten, but they’d been nice at one point) black cloaks, each decorated with a yellow emblem on the back.

“I think it’s meant to be a talon” said Jack, indicating the emblem.

“It could be a pitchfork” said Bar.

“It looks like an alchemical symbol” suggested Kate.

“Might be a lizard print” offered Dio.

“Why would anyone wear a cloak decorated with a lizard print?” asked Reynard.

“I don’t know,” said Dio, “maybe they like lizards.”

Meleny’s stone cutting glare suggested that mentioning lizards had been a poor move on Dio’s part. Dio, rather than glaring back, turned slightly away.

“Dodge” whispered Bar to Kate. Kate nodded.

“People!” shouted Jack. “It does not matter what the stupid emblem means!”

Kate bit down on a grin. Jack was cute when he was exasperated.

“Look,” said Jack, “just past that room” (he pointed to the room to the north) “is a full grown ogre. The ogre is in front of a staircase. It is large, it has a very large club, and it is clearly a guard!” He paused and looked around, pleased to be holding the team’s attention for once. “However, I have a plan. We put on these cloaks, and we pass ourselves off as bandits. We position ourselves in the room, and then kill the ogre before he knows what’s happening!” Jack held his head high, proud of his plan.

“No” said Bar.

Jack’s jaw dropped.

“I have allergies” said Bar. “This cape is dripping with mildew. I’ll sneeze my head off.”

“Agreed,” said Kate. “I’ve already had green slime flowing over bits of me that I’d rather not talk about. I’m not putting on this moldy old cloak.”

Jacks jaw snapped his jaw shut.

He started to speak, and then stopped.
He started again, but couldn’t quite manage it.

Jack finally managed to speak. His voice was a level growl, and quite intimidating. “We will put on these cloaks, and we will kill that ogre, or we will pick a new team leader.”

Fox, Meleny, and Dio quickly put on the cloaks. Bar hesitated, and then pulled on her own cloak and let out a sneeze. Kate thought about it, and then pulled on the last of the cloaks, smiling. Jack was especially cute when he was being threatening.

Jack put on his cloak, and the group entered the room to the north east.

In the next room stood an ogre, a huge, man shaped humanoid, heavy boned, over eight feet tall, one quarter ton of muscle and anger clutching a spiked club.

Kate looked at the huge thing, and told it a short, magic enhanced joke.

The ogre collapsed in helpless laughter.

Its execution was somewhat anti-climactic.

As the group spread out in the room, Jack opened a door to the south.

It was a tiny storage room converted into a cell, containing two gnomes and an elf.

End Part the Tenth

Next: Gnome Man’s Land

[Old Book]

So, um, is anyone reading this?

*crickets chirping*

Heloo?

*more crickets*

sigh.

[Old Book]

If anyone's still following this, there are 10 more parts now up at the Circle of Eight (http://www.co8.org/forum/showthread.php?t=4118) forums. :smallsmile:

[Gyrfalcon]

Hm, never saw this until now... good story so far, especially since I never played Temple of Evil and thus this fan addition. :)

I'll try to remember to keep up with your work on the other board. :)

[Old Book]

Hm, never saw this until now... good story so far, especially since I never played Temple of Evil and thus this fan addition. :)

I'll try to remember to keep up with your work on the other board. :)

Thanks. :)

ToEE the CRPG was kind of a beautiful failure. It managed to handle the rules and faithfully reproduce a classic module better than any other D&D CRPG, but suffered from intolerable bugs and from the kind of very thin story you get when you have a module without a GM. The Co8 Patch made it worth playing, fixing bugs and adding some much needed story content.

I'm just happy to get a reply. ;)

[Old Book]

Part the Eleventh: Gnome Man’s Land

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

My heart was pounding like a loud, fast pounding thing. This was it, I thought. We’d found the Princess!

I stepped forwards, and started to go into a full kneel. Then I looked more carefully.

The two gnomes were muscular, battle scared little men, wearing little more than rags. The Elf was pretty enough, under the dirt and bruises. Blond haired and pale, wearing tattered clerical garb, she was clearly not the Princess Tillahi.

“Hello,” said the Elf girl, eyes unfocussed, her voice a flat monotone.

Dio and Perry swept into the storage room, offering the prisoners water and tending their wounds. Kate hovered close while Bar and Reynard checked the Ogre’s corpse.

I straightened up and looked at the older of the two gnomes. He’d been beaten badly.

“Who are you?” I asked him. He was sipping from Dio’s canteen, his hands trembling. Dio was whispering a prayer, and the bruises covering the gnome’s skin were fading.

“Nybble,” he said. His voice was weak. “My name is Nybble. My friends are Gleem and Chanda.” He took a breath. “Thank you for freeing us.”

“What were you doing down here?” I saw Kate trying to get a response from the Elf girl.

Nybble got carefully to his feet. “We were tracking some bandits. After they hit a caravan heading out from Verbobonc., we were one of a few teams sent out to find them.”

He looked at Chanda’s slack features, and at Gleem’s broken expression. “We were lucky,” he said.

“How did they catch you?”

He shrugged. “We tracked them to the Moathouse. We found a secret door into the place and a second hidden door that lead down here. That’s when the Ogre caught us.” He paused briefly. “We fought, and then Chandra just stopped. Without her we didn’t have a chance. We surrendered.”

His eyes met mine. I didn’t know what to say.

He looked away and continued. “Bandits came and went for a while, wearing cloaks like you’re wearing now. The ogre let them pass. He’d come in here and play with us when he was bored.” He stopped again for a moment. “I think he was going to eat us.”

“You’re safe now,” I said. I didn’t know how to deal with this. I’d learned how to scare people, to trick them, to get information or be diplomatic. I’d never learned how to give comfort. I pushed on. “Have you seen or heard anything about other prisoners? Or about who’s running this place?”

“Nothing” he said. Dio helped him up. He pulled a ring off of his finger and handed it to me. “The ring marks you as a gnome friend. It may be useful.”

I accepted it.

He looked at Chanda and Gleem. “We’re heading back to Verbobonc.”

We gave them water and some frog meat, and told them where we’d left the weapons of the bandits we’d killed in the courtyard. They left. Kate came to me.

“Do you think they’ll be OK?” she asked.
“They have a clear path to the courtyard” I answered, “and there’s a pile of leather armor and rusty swords out there. They have a chance.”

“We could have escorted them back to Verbobonc.” said Kate.

I shook my head. “We need to find the princess. The gnomes aren’t our responsibility.”

Kate was frowning. I wasn’t used to that. “Chanda is broken inside. The other two aren’t much better.” Her eyes locked with mine. “That could happen to us.”

I held her gaze. “It won’t.” I had to make her, and all of us, believe it. “We’re going to find whoever leads these bandits. We’re going to kill him, and we’re going to find the Princess.”

She took my hands in hers, squeezed them, and then rejoined the rest of the team.

I’d said it. Now I had to make it true.

End Part the Eleventh

Next: Bugbear Knights

Part the Twelfth: Bugbear Knights

Torgar, son of Gorback, Seventeenth Sub-Battle Chief of the Temple, Bugbear among Bugbears, puffed out his barrel chest and let out a Hoot of Affectionate Challenge.

Trogdorella, female bugbear warrior, affected not to notice him, and continued on her patrol.

Torgar sagged slightly, emitting a pensive whine, but perked up again at the sight of Trogdorella’s mighty, leather clad hind quarters. The girl was truly all an ambitious, up and coming bugbear could want. Her fur thick and shiny, her fangs gleaming, and her powerful muscles bulging in ways that haunted Torgar’s nights. Torgar would have written poems about her, if bugbears had a written language and a tradition of love poetry.

Actual bugbear poetry mainly consisted of rhythmic battle chants, with the occasional clan history or bit of herbal lore thrown together by rare Bugbear intellectuals.

Torgar eyed his underlings, the huge berserker Grumashsen, killer and forager. The wily Headsmashedin, known to have once read, or at least to have held, a book. The twin archers Vril and Vrilya, deadly Bugbears of the Bow. Two more bow-bears guarded the outer chamber, Torn and Tous, both hard veterans. A fine company of warriors, and sorry luck indeed that had seen them sent from the Temple to squat here in the swamp, waiting on the whims of a mad human.

Still, thought Torgar as Trogdorella passed through again and this time favored him with a playful snarl, things could be worse. Sooner or later the human would let them out on a proper raid, and meanwhile there was always plenty of rat in the pot.

There was an unexpected sound from the outer hall, almost like Elves singing.

Trogdorella ran from the outer hall back into the main barracks, letting out the Call of Warning, and then twirled to face the largest Human female Torgar had ever seen. The invader was well over ten feet tall, a glowing wooden shield on her left arm and a sword burning with white light clutched in her fist!

Hooting with delight, Torgar charged forward. Action at last!

Past the giantess and the glorious Trogdorella spun a radiant ball of flashing feathers and clucking fury. The battle chicken’s beak darted forwards, punching a bloody hole in the side of Trogdorella’s leg. Howling, Torgar slashed his blade down towards the avian menace, only to see it bounce away in a shower of sparks from the fierce fighting fowl!

Torgar head a rushing of air from behind him, and a heavy blow nearly knocked him from his feet. Spinning, he saw a spectral hammer shining in the air. As Torgar gaped, an enormous black bear materialized beside the hammer, claws and fangs tearing into the unprepared Grumashsen. Blood drenching his torso, Grumashsen let out a bellow of berserk fury and struck back, nearly separating the bear’s shoulder from its body.

A second black bear appeared beside Grumashsen.

The air was filled with chanting, and more gigantic figures were moving into sight. Torgar watched helplessly as the giant female brought her burning sword down upon Trogdorella. The agony of his heart blinding him, Torgar leaped forwards, aiming a blow at the human giantess that bounced harmlessly from her glowing shield. A hammer blow struck Torgar’s back, and another.

Two spectral hammers now floated above and behind the Seventeenth Sub-Battle Chief of the Temple. An arrow pierced his shoulder. With a sizzling sound, the giantess’ terrible glowing sword nearly disemboweled the mighty Trogdorella. A heavy spear plunged through Torgar’s chest.

The ground was very close now. Torgar turned his head; his sword was still in hand, though he could not feel it. He still had a chance. He …

Torgar looked up into the eyes of the chicken.

Barbara leaped nimbly over the fallen she-bugbear, and switched from sword to glaive in hopes of catching one of the two bugbear archers. Behind her, Meleny’s chicken was clucking above the body of a bugbear in a chain shirt, and the rest of the team was finally free to come into the room.

The remaining bugbears died shortly thereafter.

Bar was pulling a small bottle filled with murky liquid from the belt of one of the archers when Dio approached her. Bar gave the naturalist a friendly smile.

“Those bears were pretty impressive” said Bar.

Dio smiled in return, helping to check the bugbear’s body. “Thanks” she said, “only one was mine.”

Bar raised an eyebrow.

Dio looked uncomfortable. “I gave a few scrolls to the farm girl. She used one to call a bear.”

Bar said nothing for a while as the two women continued stripping the dead.

“Was that your way of apologizing over the lizard?” asked Bar.

“No,” said Dio, “not exactly.” Dio tasted a drop of one of the bugbear’s potions and then slipped it into her pack. “Maybe a little. She was feeling useless. I thought the scrolls might help.”

Bar nodded seriously, and then took a round wooden shield from her pack. To the two women, the faint hum of magic was audible, trapped in the wood. Bar passed the shield to Dio.

“Where did you get this?” asked Dio, examining the shield.

“After we killed the lizard, I checked the body. It had swallowed the shield.” Bar smiled and moved away. ”Like Jack says, always check the bodies.”

Dio slipped the shield over her arm, got up, and re-joined the rest of the team.

End Part the Twelfth

Next: The Quality of Mercy

[Old Book]

Part the Thirteenth: The Quality of Mercy

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

Fox and I were scouting ahead, which was probably a mistake. Now Kate, she could move quietly when she needed to. Fox at least didn’t wear any armor, so he wasn’t as loud as he might have been, but he still seemed to find every crunchy bit of debris in the place to trod on, and bits that made other assorted noises for variety. The rest of the gang clinked and clanked so much as they moved that I expect half the denizens of the Moathouse must have fled well before we got there.

Anyway, I had Fox with me. We’d just wiped out a nest of bugbears, nasty things sort of like a cross between humans and, well, bears. I’ll say this about them; they may look bestial, but the smart ones know their alchemy. You rarely find a bugbear without a few potions on them. Makes them profitable enemies to fight, assuming you live through it.

Not that I kill just for the loot. Those bugbears attacked us, despite the guards’ cloaks we were wearing. I just happen to appreciate good loot when I find it.

OK, maybe I do sometimes look forward to a little looting.

Sometimes I don’t like me.

The corridor lead south-west, and was in an even worse state of repair than the rest of that place. Stone blocks had fallen from the walls, and the sounds of water were faintly audible. The smell was appalling, not just the swamp and mold of the Moathouse, but also a smell like wet dog. Big wet dog. Big, flatulent wet dog.

I checked, but Dio’s dog was still back with her.

Then we rounded the corner, looked into a small, reasonably well maintained barracks, and spotted the gnolls. Big, mean, hairy hyena-men, heavily armed. I grabbed Fox and hustled him back to the others.

“Gnolls in the next room” I said. “Are we in shape for a fight?”

“We have enough scrolls for one more battle” said Kate.

“Everyone is in good health, and our protective rituals remain strong, sire” said Perry.

“Mister Chicken and Mister Dog are both protected” said Meleny, always cheerful.

I couldn’t believe she’d talked Reynard into wasting magic on the chicken.

We were as ready for this as we could be. “I go in first, Bar, Perry and Dio next, Kate, Fox and Mel at the rear. Try to keep the dog and the bird between you three and anything that slips past the first rankers.” Even the dog and the bird looked like they were paying attention. That rattled me a little.

We spread out. I took point and moved into the room. Then the battle plan changed.

The largest of the gnolls, its grey fur streaked with white, spotted me. He spoke.

“You want to talk with us?” He spoke common, the words intelligible despite a mouth and throat not well suited to them.

I might have attacked then. Instead, I brought my spear to rest position and answered. “Let’s talk.”

“You are here to kill the Master?” The other gnolls shifted anxiously about the room, and in a small cave beyond. There must have been a dozen of them.

“Yes.” There was no point in lying. Our armor and clothes were stained with blood, and our weapons were drawn. He wasn’t going to believe that we were here on a walking tour.

“Good,” said the old gnoll, his brothers continuing to shift nervously. “The Master is a bad leader. No hunting for us, no gold, not enough food.”

“So what are we going to do?” Perry, Bar and Dio were right behind me, weapons drawn. Fox, Kate and Mel were behind them, weapons at the ready.

Dio’s dog had moved into the room, snarling.

The chicken was glaring at the gnoll leader.

“You give us gold and food,” said the old gnoll, “we leave. You go kill the master.”

I brought my spear to the ready position. “Leave and live; you’ll get nothing more.” I met his eyes, and I was sure I’d have to kill him.

The gnoll looked us over, and then barked something to his pack. “We will go, but Yeenoghu will have his revenge.”

We moved into the barracks, and the gnolls moved out.

As we searched the chambers, Perry came to me.

“May I ask a question?” She spoke softly.

I nodded.

“Why did you let them go?” There was no accusation in her voice.

I thought carefully before answering. “I think it’s because he talked to me.”

She was looking at me intently.

“If he had kept pressing for gold, or if he’d attacked, I’d have killed him. Instead, he backed down. After that, I didn’t want to attack.”

Perry nodded seriously. “Thank you, sire. You reasons were good.” She went back to searching.

I hadn’t told her my other reasons. They’d looked like they had nothing worth taking, and I hadn’t wanted to waste time and energy killing them. Much later, I’d come to regret that decision.

Like I said, sometimes I don’t like me.

We moved west, and found a hallway with three branches. The sound of water came from the west. The northern branch was dark and silent. Light came from the south.

We went south.

The Moathouse was in much better repair here. Torches were in scones, the floor was cleaner and even the swamp stench was less. The air was moving; somewhere near by, there was a door out of this place.

We came to a small room, with doors to the south and to the east. From the east, I heard the sound of low conversations.

“Get ready” I ordered.

Prayers and chanting filled the air. Energy poured through us all. I opened the east doors.

A narrow, well lit hall. A heavily armored guard looked faced us. Two crossbowmen and a swordsman backed him.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

We attacked.

End Part the Thirteenth

Next: The Beautiful

Part the Fourteenth: The Beautiful

Reynard the Fox could barely see the action in the narrow corridor. From the entry hall, he heard the sounds of metal on metal, flesh tearing and men shouting. He could see Barbara’s broad back, muscles moving beneath heavy pauldrons and light chain as she swung her glaive. He could see a crossbow bolt scrape across Jack’s shoulder. He could see the armored backs of Dio and Perry as each called upon their gods.

Strong were the defenders of the Master. Skilled they were, and brave. Well armed were the defenders of the Master, their blades sharp, their steel well forged.

Reynard resisted the urge to push into the melee for a better view. Turning his perceptions inwards, he drew on the power in his blood. Space twisted, and Perry found herself transformed into a small giantess. Reynard, sweating from the effort of spell casting, considered his next move. From behind him came the sound of Meleny chanting.

Barbara’s glaive chopped a spearman nearly in half, and went on to slice open the belly of the man beside him. Jack’s spear struck that same man in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The way to the end of the hall was clear.

“My Meleny” whispered Reynard, again trying the thought on for size. Meleny finished chanting, and the blood ceased to flow from Jack’s wound. The entire team rushed through the narrow hall.

Jack charged, his spear punching through the steel armor of a crossbowman. Barbara’s glaive missed its mark as the man stumbled back, but an arrow from Hekate’s bow finished him. A bolt flew wild from the crossbowman’s weapon as consciousness failed.

A group of spearmen led by a sword wielding sergeant blocked the entrance to the main barracks.

Reynard and Meleny moved together through the narrow hall as Bar, Perry and Jack tried to force their way into the barracks. Reynard’s eyes fixed on Dio behind the lead trio. She looked so small, short and slender, and yet she bore her scimitar and shield with easy grace. A summoning chant poured from her lips, and the growls of a bear could be heard from the barracks. Reynard had cared for her, still cared for her. He glanced to the side to see Meleny eyeing Dio, her expression showing hints of admiration, anger and guilt.

Persephone raised her shield and completed her own invocation, and a sound like hammer on anvil nearly filled the world. The soldiers blocking the barracks entrance fell back, the force of the sound stunning them briefly, and Jack and Barbara struck. Within the barracks, Dio’s bear rampaged, and was joined by her dog and Meleny’s chicken.

The Moathouse Lieutenant dropped his bow, drew his sword and charged.

Reynard read from a scroll, releasing trapped magic, a charm that dragged another defender down into slumber. Behind him now, Kate did the same, but with little effect. Dio tumbled into the main barracks with an acrobat’s skill, coming to her feet to slash her scimitar towards the lieutenant. The blow clanged against his shield. Reynard feared for her, and shame touched him. He had betrayed old love for new, and he could not make it right.

Dionysia turned the Moathouse Lieutenant’s return blow with her own shield. A small sphere of flame arched through the air, striking the lieutenant and driving him back. Dionysia glanced back quickly, and saw Meleny holding fire in her hands. The two women exchanged glances.

Strong were the defenders of the Master. Skilled they were, and brave. Sharp were their blades, their steel well forged.

They could not stand against their attackers.

Reynard caught his breath as Perry and Bar prayed over their personal wounds and those of Dio and Jack. He looked at the dead men everywhere, and saw the men he had driven into unconsciousness. He watched as Jack butchered them.

To a man, the defenders of the Master died.

From a small enclosed room within the barracks, Reynard felt the pulse of magic. He looked at Kate. She nodded, and gestured to Jack.

The group gathered around the door to the inner room. Jack checked; the door wasn’t locked. Jack opened it.

“What is this?” In the room stood a large man in black armor, blond hair flowing over his shoulders, a glowing club in his right hand and a silver mace in his left. His voice was powerful, an actor’s voice, but it could not hide his fear.

Barbara leaped into the room, dropping her glaive, drawing a glowing sword with the same motion striking a blow that nearly downed the Moathouse Master. Jack tumbled behind the Master and drove his spear into the man’s back. Reynard moved forward, ready to strike the death blow, when the master shouted “Enough!”

Reynard hesitated. “Are you trying to surrender?”

“Yes!” The Master’s voice revealed his desperation.

“Where is the Princess Tillahi?” snarled Jack.

“Who?” asked the Master.

“Tillahi!” shouted Jack. Reynard looked his friend in the eye, and realized it was an act; good-adventurer bad-adventurer. Reynard played along.

Dio held back her snarling dog, while Meleny held back her chicken.

“An Elf”, said Reynard, keeping his voice low, almost friendly. “She was traveling with a small retinue of guards. Their armor and weapons would have been exceptional, and the Princess herself exquisitely beautiful.”

“A party like that was captured” allowed the Master.

“Where are they” bellowed Jack, pressing the point of his spear into the Master’s side, just short of causing further injury.

“You’d better tell him” said Reynard.

Blood drenched the Master’s armor. He glared at his captors, working to hide his fear. “Such a group would have been sent to the Temple.”

“Where is the Temple” Jack shouted.

The Master forced himself to straighten, to smile. He pushed the arrogance back into his voice. His spoke as though life hung in the balance, which was in fact the case. “I am Lareth, called the Beautiful, Priest of Lolth in the service of the Temple.” He observed the young fools holding him, and knew he had a chance. “Kill me, and you may never find your Tillahi. Torture me, and I may die before you can force the Temple’s location from me.”

Lareth took a breath. “Take me with you, and I shall escort you to a secret entrance to the Temple, an entrance known only to myself and my followers. Unobserved, you may begin your search for this Tillahi. Or kill me, and if you find the Temple at all, your Tillahi will likely be slain when your intrusion is detected.”

Lareth watched Jack closely.

Reynard turned to Jack as well, and nodded. Jack looked next to Kate, then Barbara, Dio, Perry, and even Meleny. Four nods, two shakes.

Jack spoke. “Deal. You take us to the Temple, we let you live.” He sounded convincing. He turned to Bar and Perry. “Disarm, strip and bind the prisoner, and tend his wounds.”

So they did.

End Part the Fourteenth

Next: Betrayals

[Old Book]

Part the Fifteenth: Betrayals

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

Stripping the dead after the battle outside of Lareth’s chambers took a while, but the haul was excellent. We got a small fortune in coins, gems, good steel weapons and armor.

“We’re going to need to make a few trips to get all this stuff back to Hommlet” I said, looking at the loot pile.

“Not exactly” said Kate with a smile. She pulled the miniature chest we’d found out from one of her belt pouches. “Kouri” she whispered.

The air twisted in a way that made my eyeballs want to pop out for a quick roll around and a light breakfast. When my vision cleared, a large, heavy wooden chest was sitting in the middle of the floor next to the loot pile.

“OK,” I said, “that was impressive.”

“Load it up” said Kate, smiling widely.

Bar, Perry, Dio and the dog kept watch while I and Kate stuffed the loot into the chest. Fox, Mel and the chicken kept an eye on Lareth.

“What was that word you said?” I asked.

“What word?”

“The word that called the chest.”

“Ah,” said Kate. “The miniature is a voice activated portable trans-dimensional signal device. Just speak the trigger and an extra-dimensionally situated potential full sized chest is rotated and thus actualized into our own space-time plane of reference.” She smiled brightly.

I stared at her.

“It’s a magic box. Have a look.” She handed me the miniature.

I took another look at the miniature; runes were engraved on the bottom. I’m good with runes.

“Made in Kara-Tur” I read. I handed the box back.

Maybe I shouldn’t have taken Trap Design 110 to fill my first year math requirement.

After we finished stuffing the chest with the loot and Lareth’s gear, Kate took back the miniature and repeated the command word. The chest vanished, and my eyes only issued a minor complaint. As we got ready to head out, I saw Bar and Perry staring at me from the chamber’s entrance. I joined them.

“We must talk, my friend” said Perry. “Now” added Bar. Dio was with them, but remained silent.

l joined them in the hall. Kate, Fox, and Mel remained in the main barracks with Lareth.

“You know the priest is leading us into a trap.” Bar wasn’t asking.

I nodded.

“His bandits have been preying on travelers,” said Perry. “and he has been harboring well trained gnolls, bugbears, and even an ogre. He has animated the dead.”

I nodded again.

“So,” asked Dio, “are we going to let him go?”

“No” I said.

Perry’s face was serious. “Sire, you gave your word.”

I looked from woman to woman. They’d grown since we started on this mission. All three were strong in their faiths, smart, and heavily armed. I chose my words carefully.

“An escort to the Temple and in exchange we wouldn’t kill him. That was the deal.” I watched to see how they were taking this. “I never said we’d let him go. After he shows us how to get into the Temple, we’ll take him back to Hommlet and hand him over to Burne.”

Bar began a slow grin over that, and Dio, after a moment nodded. Perry’s face remained serious.

“It’s the only way” I told her, trying to make her believe. “We need to find the Temple, and we can’t let him go. Trust me; it will work.”

She finally nodded her assent. “Yes,” she said, “I can see why you made this choice. It shall be as you say.”

“Let’s move out” I said, and waved to the rest of the gang to grab Lareth and fall in. I was glad I hadn’t told Perry my original plan of killing Lareth as soon as we got to the Temple. She wouldn’t have understood.

We went to the south doors of the outer hall and exited the Moathouse.

Before the Moathouse exit stood over a dozen burly figures, armed and armored. A mixed company of gnoll and human mercenaries was waiting for us, lead by a trio of familiar humans.

Betrayals II

Aside from the ambush it was a pretty nice night. Swamp sounds were everywhere, and the outdoor air was an incredible relief after having been inside the Moathouse so long. By moonlight we could see the enemy, and I think all of us went for our weapons.

“Sir” said one of the humans, a tall man in monk’s robes, “what are you doing here?”

“Let’s just get this over with” I said, bracing my spear. There must have been a dozen of them.

“Not so fast,” said the monk.

“I know you” shouted Barbara.

Put off, the man in monk’s robes looked over at her.

“You’re Turuko, from the inn!” Bar was peering closely at the monk, and at the other humans.

“Er, yes” said Turuko.

“And you’re Kobort the Barbarian, and Zert the mercenary!” Barbara sounded pleased. The big barbarian started to give her a half-hearted wave, until Turuko turned and glared at him.

“Yes, we have met,” said Turuko, “however …”

“Met?” said Bar. “Kobort, Zert and I have gotten plastered together. I’ve heard Kobort sing the Assorted Meat Song.”

Kobort looked uncomfortable.

“That’s as may be,” said Turuko, ‘but the fact remains that …”

“Zert,” said Barbara, “you asked if you could come with us. I thought you fancied me?”

Zert looked panic stricken. “Sorry, Barbara,” he said, “this is business.”

“Business?” asked Bar.

“We are here for the Master” said Turuko. I think he was trying to regain control of the conversation.

“I’m right here” called Lareth, looking up. His arms were bound, and Fox, Mel and the chicken were flanking him.

“Give him to us,” said Turuko, “leave Hommlet, and do not return.” He was moving into a fighting stance.

“We need him,” I said, “and we’ll come and go in Hommlet until our mission is over.”

“Then, sir, it is your time to die.” He motioned to his men, jumped forward, and slammed a kick into my chest. He was good; even through boiled leather, it hurt.

Then the girls and Fox started chanting.

Several things happened almost at once.

Thick waves of spider-webs fell from the sky onto the mercenaries.

The big barbarian, Kobort, charged through the webbing and landed a sword blow against Perry’s armor, snapping steel links and breaking ribs.

Grasses and vines grew up around the mercenary’s feet, tripping Kobort and the few mercenaries that weren’t trapped by the webs.

Perry pulled back slightly out of Kobort’s reach, still chanting together with Bar. A sound like hammer on anvil filled the world, followed by a sound like sword on sword. Most of the mercenaries staggered, stunned.

Fox stepped forwards. Fire poured from his hands, bathing the big barbarian and the closest gnolls. The spider-webs ignited, and fire flowed over the company.

I looked at Turuko. Barely conscious, bound in vines, deafened, stunned and burned.

I stabbed him.

It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Betrayals III

That was pretty much the end of the fight. We finished off the remaining mercenaries quickly. None of us were happy about it. Bar looked furious.

Afterwards, as we loaded the mercenary’s armor into the extra-planar chest, I noticed Lareth eyeing me.

“I begin to see” he said “how your little band defeated my soldiers.”

I knew he was fishing, but I answered anyway. “Pro-active theology and practical metaphysics; it’s a good combination.”

“Yes, I see.” He offered me a shark’s smile. “Such skill your followers demonstrate. All, I think, command the favor of gods or the power of the arts arcane.”

I waited for him to get to the point.

“You, I notice, do not command such powers.” His voice was mock-friendly. “How is it that these young prodigies follow you?”

He was winding me up.

“I’m management” I answered. “I don’t need technical skills.”

He snorted.

“Are you ready to go to the temple?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re ready.” I moved back to join the rest of the gang.

We headed back to the Moathouse tower. Most of the gang spent some time scribing, studying and praying. I noticed Lareth watching them, and me. Barbara was in a dark mood. Perry and Dio went over and sat with her. I heard Lareth whispering prayers of his own, but I didn’t worry much about it at the time. I didn’t think there was much he could do outnumbered seven to one.

I took first watch, Bar took second. Everyone got some sleep.

The next morning we headed out to the Moathouse courtyard. It was a grey day, cool and drizzling. Everyone looked well rested. I turned to Lareth, ex-Master of the Moathouse.

“We’re ready. Lead us to the Temple.”

We traveled over main roads and overgrown trails, from swamp to meadow to forest to blasted plain. The trip took a little over a day, and it rained the whole way.

“So many terrain types right next to one-another, and no farms” said Perry.

“Yup,” I agreed, “adventuring country.”

Finally, in the distance, we saw a mighty building, set alone upon a blasted plain. The sky rolled with grey-black clouds, against which the Temple’s dark stone walls loomed like shadow on shadow. Great stained glass windows, illuminated from within, depicted scenes of madness and beauty, debauchery and devastation that both seduced and repelled. Winds swirled endlessly about the edifice, a glorious obscenity raised up like a challenging fist against the heavens.

“Behold,” declaimed Lareth, “the Temple of Elemental Evil!”

“Say what you want about the lords of the Abyss,” said Perry, “they know their architecture.”

I could only nod my agreement.

We untied Lareth’s hands, and helped him into a respectable suit of chain mail. We even gave him back a light mace and a cloak; he wouldn’t look like a prisoner.

“Now,” said Lareth, “follow, and learn of the secret entrance to the Temple.”

We moved to the east, following a path to a side tower. In front of the tower door stood a slumped guard in black steel and leather armor.

“Halt!”

Lareth stepped forwards. “Is there a problem, door-keep?”

“No, Master! I was not told you were to return!” The guard was bowing and scraping, and Lareth was swelling with restored pride.

I put a hand on Lareth’s right arm. Bar put a hand on his left.

I could feel his panic as we frog marched him away from the tower.

“What are you doing?” hissed Lareth. “I kept my side of the bargain!”

Perry was scowling, Bar grinning. Meleny didn’t look very happy about this either.

We set off on the roads back to Hommlet.

We got all the way back to Burne’s tower.

“What is this!” demanded the panic stricken Lareth.

“Come along, Lareth.” I hadn’t realized just how well Lareth could pray.

“Fools! You fools!” Lareth somehow got his hands free, and gestured wildly. The greasy feel of magic burned the air, and suddenly Lareth was gone.

We were left standing in front of Burne’s tower, having had the secret Master of the Moathouse bandits in our hands and lost him.

Perry and Mel looked pole axed. Dio seemed bemused. Bar looked amused.

Fox spoke first. “We should get out of this town.”

“Now” I agreed.

We hit the road again.

Betrayals IV

“We haven’t lost anything” I was insisting to the gang in general as we closed again on the tower entrance to the Temple. “We’re here, at the Temple. Tillahi is inside. We go in, kill whoever stands in our way, and find her. It will work.”

“Who goes there?” snapped the door-keeper.

“Friends of Lareth the Beautiful” I said.

He eyed us oddly, then stepped aside. “Go right in”.

We entered the tower.

The huge tower.

The tower filled with heavily armed soldiers and crossbowmen, a wizard, and two witches.

“To arms!” shouted the tower captain, and the air crackled with magic as the witches and wizard began their spells.

“Wait!” I was close to panic, but tried to keep it together. “Wait! We’re friends of Lareth the Beautiful!”

“How do you know that name” demanded the captain.

“Lareth told us to meet him here” I said.

“Leave” said the Captain. “If you are friends of Lareth, return in his company. Return alone, and die.”

I looked at the well armed and armored soldiers, the well positioned crossbowmen, the alert wizard and witches.

“Watch the threats” I said, and we left.

“We need Lareth” I told the gang once we were away from the door-keeper.”

“We need to attack!” Perry looked as angry as I’ve ever seen her.

“There are too many of them, and too well prepared. We can’t take them without surprise.”

Everyone was staring at me.

“Look, it’s not so bad. We find Lareth, we take him back to the Temple, and we get the drop on those guards.”

The gang looked doubtful.

“It will work.”

We headed back for Hommlet.

End Part the Fifteenth

Next: Caravan

[Old Book]

Part the Sixteenth: Caravan

The redheaded woman lay dying, held in the arms of Reynard the Fox.

“Dog men” she breathed, her voice fading, “dog men attacked the wagons.”

Persephone and Barbara whispered prayers. They were not answered.

Meleny tried to pour a healing drought into the woman’s mouth. It was too late.

“Peter” the woman gasped. Her breathing stopped.

Reynard lowered the woman gently to the ground.

Jack Swift turned away from the dead woman, surveying the wrecked caravan. Bodies littered the ground. Horses, trade goods, lives; everything of value was long gone.

“This is our fault” said Meleny, her voice broken.

Reynard put his hands on her shoulders. There were blood stains on his robes.

“This is my fault,” said Jack, not looking at the dead woman, not looking at his friends, “I chose to let the gnolls go.” He forced himself to look again at the bodies.
“No, my friend” said Perry, speaking softly, moving close to Jack. Jack did not turn to face her.

Perry continued, laying a small, strong hand on Jack’s arm. “You did not kill these travelers. The responsibility is not yours.”

Jack continued looking out at the bodies by the road.

“I could have stopped this” said Jack. “We could have killed the gnolls back in the Moathouse. We let them go. My choice.”

Perry’s open hand struck Jack’s arm with some force and considerable volume. Startled, he stared down and met the young dwarf’s intense gaze.

“Nonsense.” Perry’s voice was firm. “You showed mercy. If these people were killed by the same gnolls you spared, then your mercy was abused. The crime is theirs, not yours!”

Jack slowly nodded. “We’d best head back to Hommlet.”

“Next time,” said Barbara as the team moved on, “be less merciful.”

“Yes” said Jack.

End Part the Sixteenth.

Next: Consequences

Part the Seventeenth: Consequences

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

It was drizzling. Grey sky, cool air. On another day I’d have enjoyed it. It was a nice change from the swamps that fill the central Flanaess.

We had to find Tillahi. She was somewhere in the Temple. To get into the Temple without raising alarms, we needed Lareth. We’d been in Hommlet when he got away from us. The only thing that I could think of was to hunt around Hommlet and the Moathouse and hope we could pick up his trail.

We walked Hommlet’s wide, well maintained, and nearly empty main road, heading for the smithy. Mel at least was looking happy, almost swaggering, one hand on Fox’s bicep and the other gesturing as she detailed the politics of village life. Considering Hommlet’s odd history, they probably were pretty complicated. Bar, Perry and Dio were engaged in a quiet but intense debate. I considered getting closer and trying to listen in a bit, but I knew I’d hear about it all eventually. Besides, Dio would’ve spotted me if I’d tried, and that could have been a problem. I was glad to see Dio so much a part of the conversation again. Kate was sticking close to me, which I minded not at all.

Brother Smyth, a stocky and normally cheerful man, was working at his anvil when we arrived. He was called “Brother” because he was ordained in the Old Faith and “Smyth” because he was a smith. Sometimes with those back country names, you get exactly what it says on the package.

Smyth treated us to a blank faced stare.

“Interesting choice of traveling companions you have” he said.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“I hear tell you’ve been traveling with one of the bandits. Some say the head bandit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” I lied.

He continued to stare, saying nothing.

“We have goods to sell” I told him.

Kate took out the miniature chest and spoke the code word. The full sized chest appeared, and we began unloading. Amazing how a mid sized pile of only slightly dented and blood stained armor and weapons can warm up relations with a merchant.

We didn’t offer Lareth’s gear. I had plans for it

We began the haggling.

“I’ll give you 100 gold for the lot” he said. “Some good scrap metal here.”

“No need to insult us” I said, taking Kate’s raven from her and letting it get it’s footing on my shoulder. The bird flapped its black wings once or twice for balance, all the time glaring at Smyth, head at an angle. “There are two suits of chain here worth a hundred gold or more by themselves. Not to mention good sharp swords and axes. Make a real offer.”

Smyth crossed his very large arms and scowled. “That may be true. Still, we’re farmers and merchants here. Ask young Meleny, she’ll tell you that. Not much call for weapons. Maybe I can go to 200 gold.”

Fox passed me his raven, and now both birds balanced on my shoulders, heads darting side to side, little black eyes staring right at Smyth. “You stock more weapons than most quartermasters,” I said, “and so do the traders up the lane. The leather worker stocks hide armor, and the cabinet maker sells bows and shields. Hells, your tailor takes a couple of thick shirts, stuffs some goose feathers between and tries to sell it as cloth armor. Someone has to be buying the stuff. Tell you what, I’ll give you all of this for 1400 gold, and it’s cheap at the price.”

Smyth smiled slightly, but his eyes were on the ravens. “The armor’s bent and broken. It’ll take days of work before anyone would buy it. The weapons aren’t any better. What do you say to 500 gold?”

One of the ravens let out a demented caw, jumped up in a small explosion of black feathers, swooped overhead, and performed a natural bodily function on Smyth’s anvil.

“Noun!” He waved the bird away. “Control that thing!”

The raven settled back on my shoulder.

Smyth agreed to a very good price just to get rid of us. He had the coin for it, too. There’s nothing quite like the looting economy.

I looked through his stock after we were done. The quality was fair and he did have an impressive selection of weapons for a three farm village, but there was nothing that would be an improvement on what we already had.

“Is this your best?” The cabinet maker had held back his best stuff until we secured his wood supply. I thought Smyth might have a similar trade in mind. Sometimes these towns work that way.

He gave me another blank look. “I can get my hands on Dwarfish steel,” he said, “but it’ll take time, and I have a full work load.”

He paused.

“If you want to see my best work,” said Brother Smyth, “Bring me the head of a giant.”

“A giant?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“And where would we find a giant?”

“Not my problem” said Brother Smyth, and went back to hammering.

We spent the rest of the afternoon shopping, and having similar conversations.

“They say you’re working with the bandits” a tradesman would blurt out.

“Bandit” a guard would mutter under the breath as we passed.

They’d mutter softly and quickly, as most people are reluctant to be directly belligerent towards a well armed group of suspected criminals.

We’d cleaned out a bandits nest and then let the head man escape. “Bandit” was the least of what the townsfolk were whispering.

A visit to the church gave us a chance to sell off most of the potions we’d picked up in the Moathouse, and a visit to the Jeweler’s got rid of the gems and jewelry. The cabinet maker gave us a good price on a load of crossbows, and the leatherworker took a load of armor that Smyth hadn’t been willing to bargain on. The tailor paid us a small fortune for an Elven Cloak we’d found on an ogre. A visit to Burne’s Tower got Kate a load of new scrolls, in part paid for in trade. Burne and Fox had a short riddle contest, which earned us a few scrolls more.

We were rolling in cash. Not literally; we had it in sacks. Still, the trip through the Moathouse had been more than profitable.

Large, plain and clean, smelling of smoke and old beer, that night the Inn of the Welcome Wench almost felt like home. The usual crowd was in the main room.

Elmo, a heavy drinking militiaman built like a small castle.

Spugnoir, a scholarly type paying his way as a wandering scribe.

Furnok, a gambler and confidence man also passing through.

One of the brewer’s apprentices, a young man with the charm and good looks of the aspiring back alley thug.

Valden, the wheel & wainwright. His wife was part of Hommlet’s informal witch’s coven. She’d been missing for weeks.

The innkeeper and his wife.

Barbara was looking around, a dark expression on her face. I saw her staring at the spots by the fire where Turuko and Kobort used to hold court, and the spot by the door where Zert once lurked. All had been part of the group that ambushed us outside of the Moathouse.

It’s a sad thing to have killed a drinking buddy.

We headed up to our rooms.

“Real beds!” Kate was smiling. She looked over at me and arched her back, her smile widening. Firelight shone on her pale skin. Her violet eyes held my gaze for a few very long seconds. My eyes wandered down. I felt a deep appreciation for the artistry that had gone into the design of her corset.

I smiled back, but the whole group of us had to talk.

“We’re flush with cash” I said, trying for eye contact with the whole team, “and we’re well provisioned. Make whatever preparations you think we need, and then get some rest.”

“How shall we start the search for Lareth?” asked Perry.

“No one trusts us.” Meleny controlled her voice, but grief was there. “People I’ve known all my life don’t trust me. No one will talk to us.”

Barbara’s mouth was a thin line. “Those traders will know. Rannos and Gremag. We just need to ask them.”

“There’s a problem with that” said Fox. Barbara glared at him for a second, then let out a breath and calmed. Fox looked nervous but continued. “We knew Rannos and Gremag were working for the Temple. We blackmailed them over it, twice.” He looked at me. “Why doesn’t matter.” He paused, and I nodded.

“Someone,” said Fox, “recognized Lareth, and spread the rumor that we were working with him. He was the hidden master of that Moathouse gang, and yet someone recognized him. It had to be Rannos, Gremag, or someone who worked for them. The other townsfolk couldn’t have known him on sight.”

I felt queasy, but I agreed. I waited for Fox to finish.

“If we march in there and smack them around, even if we can get them to talk, they’re part of this community. Except for Meleny, we’re not.” He and she looked at each other, and she nodded. “They’ll have the guards on us. Fighting our way out will mean killing good men.”

“All true,” I said, “but I have a plan.”

Kate and Fox spent much of the night scribing stacks of scrolls.

The next morning we set out early. I’d passed around Lareth’s gear. Perry wore his breastplate, a black steel shell harder than it had any right to be. Perry was also wearing a belt I hadn’t seen before, a thick leather girdle marked with dwarfish runes. Dio held Lareth’s club, a distinctive thing, light yellow wood harder than iron. Barbara sported Lareth’s ring.

We headed for Rannos and Gremag’s shop. The pair scowled at us as we entered. Rannos was a big man, tall and remarkably fat. Gremag was whip lean, his face rat-like. Their guard, a shabby looking man in ill fitting armor, shifted to attention in the corner.

“You again” said Rannos. “What do you want?”

I could see Gremag’s eyes taking in Lareth’s gear.

“Just here to trade” I said. “How much can I get for these?”

I pulled Lareth’s plate boots out of my pack.

He paid a few coppers for them. We left.

“Now what?” asked Kate.

“Now,” I said, “we go to Emridy Meadows.”

The team looked at me.

“We need the good will of the most powerful people in Hommlet. One of them is the High Priest, Terjon. He wanted us to check the Meadows before we went to the Moathouse. We go there now for him, and give Rannos and Gremag some time to stew.”

Kate nodded, and then Fox. Perry nodded as well. We set off.

I figured it would take at least a day or two before Rannos and Gremag would get nervous enough to act. I was wrong.

We were passing through yet another swamp when a man dressed all in black appeared from nowhere and drove a sword through Reynard’s chest.

End Part the Seventeenth

[Old Book]

Part the Eighteenth: Assassins

Barbara slogged through yet another swamp, water pouring into her boots. “Bandit” the villagers had called her. She inhaled, exhaled, tried to relax the muscles in her back and neck.

Dio led the way, finding passage through the bogs, flanked always by her dog. Barbara and Perry followed. Jack took the center, with Kate, Reynard, and Meleny close behind. Barbara glanced back over her shoulder and smiled slightly at the sight of Mel’s chicken, hopping and flapping along in the rear.

There was a sudden splashing of bog water.

Seemingly from nowhere, a man dressed all in black appeared beside Kate. Kate, with speed and grace rare even in an Elf, threw herself backwards and away from the intruder, simultaneously loosing a jet of flame from her hand.

The man in black smoothly swayed out of the way the jet of fire, revealing a gleaming rapier in his right hand and a slightly curved short blade in his left. Spinning forwards, he plunged the rapier through Reynard’s chest and pulled it clear. Blood sprayed from the wound as Reynard fell.

The brief silence was broken by Meleny’s scream.

“For the murder of Lareth the Beautiful,” said the man in black.

Jack Swift tumbled like an acrobat behind the deadly swordsman and launched a spear strike. The black garbed assassin twisted slightly, turning the blow. Jack’s spear point scraped against mail concealed beneath the assassin’s cloak.

Barbara opened her mind to the song of Kord. Her own rage and the power of her god seemed to pull her forward, arcing her sword in a blow that could have torn a man in half. Persephone struck as well, her axe tearing through the air.

The man in black twisted and spun, using short blade and rapier to angle the incoming blows away with casual skill.

Dionysia moved in as well, closing the box around the foe, slashing with her scimitar. The man in black evaded the blow with a sudden twist of the hips. With a rage fueled squawk, Meleny’s battle chicken took the opportunity move in and land a sudden, bloody peck on the assassin’s thigh.

Meleny rushed through the water and pulled Reynard’s body up into her arms. Her desperate, whispered prayers passed out over the waters. They were without visible effect.

Kate focused now, and let forth a second jet of flame from her finger tips. This time, boxed in on all sides, the assassin was unable to leap away. The fire took him across the right shoulder and chest. Cloth burned and peeled away, and exposed chain mail heated red, branding the flesh beneath. Snarling, the swordsman struck, trying to open the trap. His rapier skewered Barbara’s side, and his short blade opened a deep, wide cut across her stomach.

Barbara staggered, and nearly fell. Anger alone held her upright. Anger contracted muscles, pulled tendons like puppet’s strings, and drove the upwards sweep of her sword so fast it seemed to move almost slowly. The man in black tried to throw himself backwards, but the burning blade slashed into him, pulling his mail shirt across his skin, leaving a deep and bloody gash from left hip to right shoulder.

Bloody and reeling now, still the assassin managed to keep his feet, a dancer’s side step taking him out of the way of Dio’s swiftly chopping axe and Jack’s thrusting spear. The step took him directly into a spinning blow from Dio’s scimitar.

The scimitar smashed deep into the assassin’s side, shattering ribs and driving un-breached chain mail into flesh.

The man in black fell back into the water. Jack placed his spear point against the assassin’s chest.

“How do you know we killed Lareth?” asked Jack.

“You sold his boots” the assassin whispered, eyes on the spear tip, trying to gather his strength.

Jack pushed him under the water. The assassin thrashed briefly, and was then still. Jack continued to hold him under the water for some time.

Barbara bit back a groan as Dio prayed over her wounds. The wide cuts began to seal themselves. Meleny continued weeping, holding Reynard.

Persephone knelt in the water beside her, and pulled a scroll from her pack. Placing a hand on Reynard’s cooling flesh, she began to read. The words hung in the air, just beyond hearing. Swamp sounds stilled.

Reynard opened his eyes, and gasped for breath.

Later, after wounds had been tended and the assassin’s body stripped, Jack poured over a letter the assassin had been carrying while Kate and Perry examined the dead man’s gear.

Barbara weighed the short blade in her left hand while holding her radiant long sword in her right.

Jack looked up, and addressed the group.

“We’re going back to Hommlet.”

End Part the Eighteenth

Next: Assassins II



Part the Nineteenth: Assassins II

“I don’t like it” said Rannos Davl, scowling. The big man paced the interior of the trading post, and glared at his partner, Gremag.

The thin man shrugged, and turned his own nervous, rat-like stare on Raimol. “Is that all you were told?”

Raimol nodded miserably. “That’s all, sirs. Burne’s guards are to keep a watch on you, both of you.” The ex-militia man’s armor had never fit well, but he’d never before found it quite this uncomfortable. He stood to what he hoped was attention. “You’re not to leave the village, sirs.”

“Unacceptable.” Rannos growled, continuing his pacing. The man moved quickly for all his bulk. His small eyes focused tightly on Raimol. “If we chose to leave, would you report it? Would you betray me, little man?”

Pulling back, Raimol shook his head. “No sir!” He turned to Gremag. “Never, sirs!”

Rannos, still scowling, turned his eyes back to Gremag, erasing Raimol temporarily from his world. Raimol slumped in relief.

“We still have the powder,” said Gremag, “and the Teamster’s son. We could load up some carts and be gone by morning.”

“No,” said Rannos. “No. Let me think.” The fat man moved to his desk and began shuffling papers. Gremag watched warily, and then began quietly looking through the stock. Wouldn’t hurt to know what was where, just in case.

Raimol spent close to an hour standing at parade rest, trying to make himself small. He wasn’t much of a thinker, but a thought was knocking at the door of the thatch roofed cottage of his mind. Working for the Traders had been good. They paid more than the militia or Burne, and the work was easier. Stand around looking tough (as well as he could), contract out to the occasional caravan (and report its route to the traders, and know when to wander home), and keep in touch with his old friends in the militia and Burne’s Badgers. Now, whispered the thought just outside his head, things were less good. Now might be a good time to get gone.

The thought was still trying to gain entry when the doors opened, and just over a half dozen heavily armed travelers, one dog and one chicken crowded into the trading post.

“You dare come in here!” blustered Gremag, “Out! My shop is closed to you!”

The travelers ignored him, positioning themselves around the post’s main room. One of the men and the two most heavily armed women flanked Rannos. Raimol found himself flanked by the dog and the chicken. The Elf girl and the red-cloaked human male stopped at the door, while the Dwarf positioned herself between them and Gremag.

The chicken stared up at Raimol with unblinking avian animosity. The dog began to growl. Raimol clutched his crossbow.

“We won’t buy or sell from you, Jack” said Rannos. “You have no business here.”

Jack casually drew a beautifully well balanced rapier. “You sent a killer after us, Davl.” Jack pointed the rapier towards the fat man. “He talked.”

The fat man met the eyes of his young accuser. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jack stared back. “We told Burne about your saboteur in the labor camp, and about the courier. He’s bringing you before the council.”

Rannos let out a short, harsh chuckle. “You’re a fool.” He glanced at the others. “You’re all fools.”

Jack's knuckles whitened on the rapier’s handle, but his face remained calm.

Rannos gave an ugly, piggish grin. “Let me tell you the future, Jack Swift. We will go before the council, respected businessmen speaking to our peers. Burne will make your accusations, the accusations of suspected bandits. We will demand proof.”

Rannos leaned in towards Jack. “What evidence will Burne offer, boy? Your word? The word of a vagrant versus the word of a villager? The so called saboteur is long gone, or so I’m told. The alleged courier from the temple? Can you produce him?”

Jack’s mouth twitched. Rannos leaned in closer. “You have nothing. You are nothing. You are a joke. Now get out.”

Jack’s right arm twitched, the elbow beginning to straighten, the rapier point beginning to move forwards, when Reynard the Fox began to speak.

“Once upon a time,” he called, occult harmonics in his words, “there was a comely witch who preyed upon the men of a small village. She would approach the men one at a time, and invite them out to the woods. The next morning they’d wake, their privy members entirely gone. A passing knight, a Paladin of Cuthbert renowned for his prowess and piety, swore his aid. That very night the knight patrolled the village on foot, swearing he’d find the loathsome witch, while his squire remained behind in the stables. In the morning the Paladin returned. Grim faced, he announced to the villagers and his squire that he had failed to locate the foe. He then retired to his room at the inn. That night, the squire, a good hearted lad, waited until near midnight for the knight to rise and resume his patrol. Finally, the squire set out to find the witch on his own. Patrolling just outside the village he saw the loveliest girl he could imagine, a brown eyed buxom beauty with a smile full of promises. The next morning the squire awoke in the forest, his manhood misplaced. Too ashamed to face his master, the young squire spent the entire day searching the woods. At dusk, traveling along a stream, he heard a strange rustling in the trees. Looking up, he saw the slender legs and feet of a young woman dangling from the branches of an ancient oak. The squire drew his dagger and ran to the girl, pulling her from the tree and pressing his blade between her breasts. Just before he plunged it home, the young witch cried for mercy. ‘Young Master,’ she said, ‘slay me not, for I can restore you! See a wonder!’ With that, the witch reached into a hollow in the tree, and pulled forth a nest. The squire stood amazed, for in the nest were the privy members of a score of men or more, all still alive, wriggling and moving one upon another like so many snakes or worms. ‘See, young master’ said the witch, ‘your loss may yet be redeemed. Just point out the one you wish, and it shall be yours.” The young squire’s eyes were drawn to one member larger and livelier than all the rest, a proud organ clearly the prize of the flock. He reached for that member, only to be stopped by the witch's cry. ‘No, young master! Of all my lovelies, I can’t surrender that one. It belongs to the Paladin.’”

Rannos Davl began to chuckle, and then to guffaw. Overwhelmed by laughter, he collapsed, helpless, on the floor.

Jack thrust the rapier downwards, driving it through Davl’s shoulder. Davl shrieked, and then resumed laughing. Gremag, seeing the way the wind was blowing, drew a fistful of powder from his inner pocket and threw it in the air. In a flash he vanished.

Raimol, panic stricken, fired off his crossbow, only to face the magically sharp teeth of the dog and the battle chicken’s baleful beak. Raimol fell in a small, furious storm of fur and feathers.

A few seconds later, amidst pointed jabs and cutting swipes, Rannos Davl died laughing.

End Part the Nineteenth

[Old Book]

Part the Twentieth: Tall Tales

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

My plan had been to find Lareth through Rannos and Gremag. That turned out to be a complete dog’s breakfast. They didn’t know anything. Worse, they thought we’d killed Lareth. In the end we killed Rannos, Gremag got away, and the people of Hommlet had even more reason to think we were bandits.

On the plus side, Rannos had some very high quality loot on him. Anyone who says good people don’t care about money has never had to finance an adventuring company. Or maybe I don’t qualify as “good”.

So we headed for Emridy Meadows.

It made sense at the time. Terjon, head priest in Hommlet’s Church of Saint Cuthbert, had asked us to recover an artifact he’d lost there. We needed his good will if we wanted the villagers to cooperate.

“Why doesn’t he just go look himself?” Reynard asked me.

“I don’t know.” I told him.

“Could be he doesn’t care much about the artifact, and he thought it would be a good way to get rid of us.” suggested Kate, grinning.

I hoped she was wrong.

The trip took about a day. We passed through yet another swamp. Dio found some Swamp Lotus floating on the water in the south west, almost invisible in the gloom. We packed it away. Jaroo, Hommlet’s chief druid, had asked us to bring him a sample.

Emridy Meadows sits in the central Flanaess, bordered by hills and forest. It used to be good land, the kind that would make a farmer or herdsman smile and think seriously about homesteading. In the year 569, it was the site of a battle between humans allied with gnomes, elves and dwarves against an army of orcs, ogres and gnolls. Both sides had their own priests and wizards, and it’s said that the Demon Lady of Fungi actually appeared. Blood and magic soaked into the soil. These days you wouldn’t want to eat the sort of things that grow there.

“This place is scary.” said Meleny.

Dio sent a look Mel’s way, but refrained from direct comment.

I had to agree with Mel. The meadows were green and healthy on the surface, but there was something unnatural about the place. Strange sounds hung in the air, and odd movements were just barely visible from the corner of the eye.

Also, as I noticed after we’d traveled south down into the meadows just a few dozen paces, there was the not at all hidden movement of a fully articulated skeleton charging straight for us, clutching a spear.

The skeleton’s weapon bounced from Dio’s shield. The creature wasn’t the same as the living dead we’d seen in the Moathouse; its flesh had long since rotted away, leaving only bone, held together and animated by force of magic. A second skeleton rose from the ground to the south east, holding a crossbow. It launched a bolt that bounced from Bar’s shoulder plate.

Perry ran forward and raised her axe high in the air. Words in the old Dwarven tongue poured from her. I think they were prayers. Light blazed from the skeleton facing Dio, and from the skeleton to the south east.

As the light faded, the skeletons collapsed into piles of disorganized bone.

“Praise Moradin!” declaimed Perry, looking smug.

“Praise Moradin” we all muttered, continuing our march south. Credit where credit is due.

“So,” said Kate, “do we have a plan?”

“We quarter the meadow,” I told her, “and hope that Terjon’s artifact is both large enough for us to find and still intact after all these years.”

“And that no one else has walked off with it” she added.

“Yes.” I said.

“And that we’re not wasting our time completely.” She gave me a smile.

“Don’t be so cynical.” I told her.

“Quiet.” hissed Dio, edging forwards.

We quieted down, and listened.

To the south, past the broken remains of what may once have been a stone circle, something was moving.

“Everybody stop.” I edged forward alone, as quietly as I could.

As I moved around the standing stones, my mail shirt (originally the assassin’s mail shirt, but he didn’t need it any more) gave a very faint clink. I winced and paused.

I started to move around again, and then cautiously forwards. That’s when I spotted them.

A full grown brown bear, almost half a ton of hair, teeth, and potential unpleasantness, was ambling along beside a genuine hill giant. The hill giant was larger.

I began to back up.

My chain shirt let out another faint clink.

The bear looked towards me.

I froze.

The bear charged.

I turned and ran around the stones.

A man on a straightaway is no match for a charging bear. Everyone who’s seen a bear run full out knows that. What many people don’t know is that bears can’t turn corners very well, at least not while they’re running.

“Bear!” I screamed, running around the corner as fast as I could.

The bear rounded the corner behind me.

Meleny’s voice rang out, magic in her words.

“Who’s a little wiggle bear? Who’s a sweetie pookums?”

The bear’s charge slowed, and then stopped.

“Who’s a lovey dovey bear?” Meleny approached the bear, her eyes shining, and the bear sat on its haunches.

I started breathing again, and started feeling a little self concious. That’s when the giant came around the stones.

As I brought up my spear, I heard chanting from behind me. Vines crawled up around the giant’s ankles, and spider’s webs rained down. Thick, slippery grease appeared beneath his feet and the ground under that turned into deep, treacherous mud. The giant heaved and pulled, snapping strands of webbing and lengths of vine, fell, and couldn’t make it back to his feet. He was helpless.

The rest was just butchery. Dio and Perry used slings, Fox and I used our spears, and Barbara struck with her glaive. Kate had her bow, and Meleny made use of her crossbow and a very large bear.

Afterwards, we searched the area and found the remains of one of the giant’s previous visitors. He’d sported a cloak that looked like elf work and an excellent suit of elf-forged chain mail.

“One of Tillahi’s party?” I asked Kate.

“Maybe. No way to tell.” There was a twinkle in her eye, and I got the feeling she was laughing at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Bear!” Kate mock-screamed, jumping back and waving her hands in the air. She was smiling, and the hands over head position did interesting things to the corset.

I smiled back and headed for the giant’s body. “I had to warn you” I said. I noticed Mel, Dio, the dog and the chicken off playing with the bear to the south west.

“You couldn’t have mentioned the giant?” teased Kate, following.

“No,” I said, drawing my dagger as I squatted by the dead giant. “First things first.”

“You scream fetchingly.” Still grinning, she joined me by the giant.

“It was a manly bellow.” I explained, cutting away at the giant’s neck. Brother Smyth had wanted a giant’s head; I’d give him a giant’s head.

We explored the meadows, marching first west, then north. Twice more we encountered groups of animated skeletons, and twice more Dio raised her axe high and destroyed them with a prayer to Moradin. She was having a great time.

I heard Dio chatting with Meleny.

“A charm won’t do it. Not for long.” said Dio.

“I want to keep him!” said Meleny. “Jaroo has bears. They’re beautiful.”

I was just glad Dio was past telling Mel “Sure, but it has to sleep next to you.”

The meadows were depressing the hells out of me. Ominous fogs, fungus everywhere, the hungry dead preying upon the living. The war between the Temple and the kingdoms of the Flanaess had left what should have been valuable land worthless to anyone.

That’s when we spotted the Rainbow Rock. Terjon had told us he’d lost his artifact near here. Imagine a chunk of quartz the size of a boulder, polished until it gleamed. It won’t look much like rainbow rock, but it’ll give you an idea. As we approached it, once again a group of corpses pulled themselves out of the ground and attacked us. This group was a bit different; some of them were very well preserved, and others looked as though the things that left them had never been human. Perry stepped forwards, raising her axe, and prayed.

Most of the undead things vanished in a blast of light. The ones that looked like a cross between dogs and men turned and ran.

We stood for a few seconds.

“Friends, after them!” shouted Perry. “They’ll not flee for long!”

So we chased them, all over the meadow. Undead horrors running in panic from a bunch of humans, an elf, a dwarf, a bear, a dog, and a chicken.

It took almost ten minutes to catch and re-kill them.

We gathered back at the rock. “Why,” I asked Perry, “couldn’t we just let them go?”

Perry looked at me as if I’d just asked why we couldn’t eat stones. “My friend,” she said, “they were the unquiet dead. Had we let them go, who knows what mischief they would have caused?”

I’d run all over a rock strewn meadow in a chain shirt and carrying a pack because some dead things might have caused someone trouble down the line. I didn’t know how I felt about that.

I examined the Rainbow Rock carefully. A fracture in the rock was filled with a grotesque fungus flower. I’m not sure why, but I took out my dagger and started digging. The fungus gave way, and I found a small belt pouch beneath. Inside was an odd figurine, a letter addressed to Terjon, and an expensive looking Amulet of Saint Cuthbert.

We had it.

Then I heard the ground breaking up just behind me.

As I turned, the animated skeleton of something inhuman rose from the ground. I looked into black and empty sockets, and something intelligent looked back. The monster was holding a heavy mace. It raised that mace into the air, and a chill wind blew. The air was filled with a sick violet light, and my stomach felt like it was trying to crawl up my throat.

Three more of the skeletal things tore their way out of the dirt, each holding a long spear. Two drove their spears against Perry, slamming them into her armor without, I think, getting through. One stabbed at Bar; bar turned, but the blow left a nasty cut across her stomach.

Perry raised her axe and called out to Moradin. Nothing happened.

I didn’t panic, at least not much. I switched my spear for a mace on my belt. Practice paid; I was able to drop the spear and make the switch in one move, tumble forwards, and land a blow on the spell-casting skeleton.

I heard chanting, and the roars of bears, but I was too worried about the skeleton in front of me to take a look. With my peripheral vision I saw Dio suddenly double in height; Fox was doing his job. Tiny glowing spheres of light spun out of Kate’s fingertips and smashed into the skeleton I was facing.

The skeleton spell caster gestured again, and began to shine. I felt another skeleton’s spear stab into my side, turned slightly by my mail, and let the force carry me into a spin. I completed the spin with a strike against the “priest” that failed to connect. I saw Dio move forward, almost as large now as the hill giant had been, and bring down Lareth’s club against the skeleton priest in a spinning blow that took out its left rib cage and left arm. Absurdly, the thing remained standing.

Then a spray of light spheres poured from Fox and Kate’s fingers to strike the skeleton priest. What was left of it exploded.

I heard fierce growls, snarls and squawks. Dio or Mel (or both) had called up small black bears, and together with the great brown of the Meadow, Dio’s dog and Mel’s chicken they were tearing into the remaining three skeletons.

Mel’s little berserk ball of feathers pecked through a skull.

I dragged myself back into the fight, and together we finished it.

Afterwards, as we tended our wounds, I handed the strange little figurine to Kate.

“What is it?” I asked.

She examined the figurine. It looked a bit like the head and shoulders of a woman, her head branching into horns. Kate sprinkled a small packet of dust from one of her pouches and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she looked intrigued.

“It summons fungus” she said.

“Ah.” I didn’t know what to make of this. “So we’ll never be without mushrooms, then?”

“It summons fungal creatures, big ones. Animated, angry, killer fungus monsters that will attack our foes.” She looked fascinated by the idea.

“I see.” I said. “You can keep it.”

She looked happy.

The brown bear squatted happily by Mel, getting its neck scratched, and Dio’s dog was busily chewing a bone. The chicken was pecking at a rib cage, which I found disturbing.

“Everyone,” I called, “we have Terjon’s artifact.” I looked at Kate, but she was too interested in her new fungi-pet to respond. “Now we return it to him.”

“And then,” interrupted Fox, “We get some cooperation in the hunt for Lareth?”

“I hope so.” I said. “All that’s left is to kill the bear.”

“What!” Mel was staring at me, shocked, and Dio along with her. Even Perry and Bar were giving me strange looks.

“It’s a killer,” I explained. “Like the gnolls. We can’t let it go.”

“You’re not killing my bear!” Mel looked like she was either going to cry or hit me. Reynard moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. He looked at me and shook his head.

“It served us, and its territory isn’t near any farms or villages.” Dio said, moving to stand with Reynard and Mel. “We should leave it here, free.”

I saw the way this was going. I nodded.

Mel looked relieved. She hugged the bear, and then gave it a push. “Away now. Go away.” The huge thing got up and lumbered off, back towards the stone circle where we’d found it.

I’ll never understand Naturalists.

End Part the Twentieth

Next: Cave Dwellers

[Old Book]

Part the Twenty-First: Cave Dwellers

“I will not have an icon for demon worshippers in my church!” Terjon’s voice, so recently full of bonhomie and honeyed words of gratitude, was now hostile.

The meeting had started well. Terjon, Hommlet’s high priest of Saint Cuthbert, had appeared grateful for the return of an amulet of Saint Cuthbert recovered from the haunted Emridy Meadows. Then Kate had shown Terjon the odd figurine that had been found alongside the Cuthbert amulet.

“We just wanted to know what you could tell us about the figurine,” said Jack, “we meant no offense.” In Jack’s experience, asking academics or priests to lecture was a sure way to get into their good graces.

It seemed to work. Terjon’s voice calmed. “The icon is dedicated to the Lady of Fungi, a demoness. Her followers were among those who battled at Emridy Meadows.” His voice became stern. “I would advise you to dispose of it at once.”

Jack nodded seriously, while Kate’s face remained carefully blank.

“I was wondering,” asked Jack, “if you’d heard anything about a bandit leader seen recently near Hommlet?”

Terjon’s face hardened. “I have heard that you were seen traveling with a man accused of being the leader of the Moathouse bandits.” Terjon paused. “If you will excuse me, I have Church business to attend to.”

The travelers left the church.

Jack’s face was grim as the group headed south towards Hommlet’s smithy. He’d hoped that assisting Terjon would provide a lead in tracking down the escaped Lareth. It hadn’t.

Brother Smyth greeted the travelers with a carefully neutral gaze. Jack noticed something new; a small, well made wooden chest by the smith’s anvil.

Jack un-strapped his over-stuffed backpack and approached the smith. “I’ve something for you” said Jack, producing a sack from within the backpack.

“Now what…” said Brother Smyth, but Jack interrupted.

“When you asked for this,” said Jack, “I wasn’t sure you were serious. Still, here it is.” Jack dumped the contents of the sack onto the ground before the smith’s feet. “I’ve brought you the head of a giant.”

It had been perfunctorily bled and cleaned before wrapping, leaving the flesh a waxy off-white. Sunken, dead eyes stared up at Brother Smyth. Jack dropped the now empty sack over the head. “Enjoy it,” said Jack. “Now, about showing us your best stock?”

Smyth pulled his eyes away from the head and looked at Jack. Smyth’s face had turned faintly green. “Come back in a day or two and I’ll have what you’re looking for.”

Jack nodded and started to turn away. “Wait,” said Smyth. “I have a request to make, if you’d care to hear it.”

“Yes?” said Jack.

Smyth gestured towards the chest by the anvil. “This was delivered yesterday. I can’t open it without breaking the lock.”

“What makes you think I can do anything?” asked Jack.

“You’re an adventurer” said Smyth.

Jack smiled, and examined the lock. It was an elegant and complicated affair. A double acting lever tumbler; lifting any one of the tumblers too high would be just as bad as not lifting it high enough. Rare and very tricky, probably Dwarven work. “Perry,” said Jack, “a quick prayer to Moradin might help.”

“As you wish, Jack” said Perry. “May Moradin guide your hand.”

Jack worked carefully, recalling his lessons. The first step was to rake the pins with a wide pick while applying light torque with a small tension wrench. The rest was a matter of feel, using a narrower pick to slip each pin to just the right height, neither too high nor too low, until the tension locked it in place.

As Jack worked on the lock, Kate examined the Fungus Figurine, her expression unreadable.

“You going to keep it?” asked Dio.

“Yes” said Kate, pale fingers tracing the runes on the bottom of the icon. She looked up at Dio and gave a brief, nervous smile. “Do you think Terjon is right? Is it evil?”

Dio gave a tight lipped smile in return and looked away. “I’m not the one to ask.”

Kate nodded and returned to examining the runes.

“What do they say?” asked Dio.

“Made in Kara Tur” said Kate.

Jack whispered a quick thanks to Moradin when the last pin snapped into place and the lock finally opened.

“Very good” said Smyth, and removed a book from the now open chest. “You can have the rest.”

Jack reached into the chest and retrieved a small, elaborately carved horn. His fingers tingled slightly as he touched it. “Here,” he said, standing and offering the horn to Kate, “check this when you get the chance.” Kate took the horn and Jack turned back to the smith. “You’ll have new stock for us to examine tomorrow?”

“Or the next day” said Brother Smyth.

Jack nodded, and then paused. “You wouldn’t happen to have heard anything more about bandits in this area?”
“No” said Smyth.

“Where to now?” asked Perry as Jack led the travelers south-east.

“Jaroo” said Jack.

The group entered the rough built cabin of Jaroo, Druid of the Old Faith.

Tall, slim, and carrying the anemic pallor of the long term vegetarian, Jaroo stood in the cabin’s main room. Beside him was a young girl, Amii, the woodcutter’s daughter.

The girl looked unwell.

Jaroo looked up with placid interest. “How may I help you?”

Dio stepped forwards, holding out a packet to Jaroo. “I found the swamp lotus.”

Jaroo took the package with a wide smile. “Wonderful!” Jaroo unwrapped the package, revealing a green stemmed plant sporting clusters of white flowers.

“It looks just like hemlock” said Meleny.

“It’s a relative of hemlock” said Jaroo, beginning to prepare the swamp lotus as a tea. “Sometimes its called cow’s bane. Prepared incorrectly, it can be a deadly poison.” Jaroo began stirring the tea, adding ingredients. “Prepared correctly, it becomes a powerful medicine.”

Jaroo poured a cup of the tea, and held it to Aimee’s lips. The child drank. Almost immediately, her color improved.

Jaroo smiled up at Dio. “With this herb, you’ve saved a life.”

Dio looked down and away, but she was smiling.

Jack cleared his throat.

Jaroo stood and looked at Jack. “Yes?”

“We’re looking for a bandit that escaped near Hommlet. A tall man, muscular, with blond hair. We’d appreciate any information you might have.”

The Druid looked thoughtful. “I hear very little of such things. Hommlet’s security is largely the responsibility of Kenter Nevets, the village elder, and of course Burne and his men.”

“Thank you” said Jack, and gestured for the team to follow as he left.

Dio was still smiling as the group moved up the path.

Fox moved up and joined Jack.

“So now we go see Nevets?” asked Fox.

“That’s the plan” said Jack.

“Do you ever get the feeling we’re just running in circles?” asked Fox.

“Never more so than in Hommlet” answered Jack.

The travelers arrived at the largest single building in Hommlet, a defensive stockade and tower that doubled as both a private home and meeting hall.

A bone thin man with a shockingly large head, Nevets greeted the travelers with a wide, yellow toothed grin. “Welcome, friends.” Nevets eyes locked on Barbara’s gladiator armor. “What can this old man do for such fine, healthy, well rounded young…” Nevets voice trailed off.

Jack interposed himself between Nevets and Barbara. Nevets blinked. “Sorry, sonny. What were you here about?”

Barbara smiled widely as Jack took up the conversation.

“Sir,” Jack began, “we were wondering if you could provide us with some information.”

“Certainly, sonny” said Nevets, slowly moving to the left, attempting to peer around Jack’s shoulder.

Jack moved again, remaining between Nevetts and Bar. “Have you heard anything about an escaped bandit in the area?”

“Nah,” said Nevets, “but I hear there’s more to young Elmo than there seems to be.” Nevets made a sudden move to the right, but Jack matched him.

“We were really hoping to get some information about that escaped bandit” said Jack.

“You know,” said Nevets faking to the right again before moving around Jack to the left “I do know something about …” his voice trailed off again as his eyes focused on Barbara.

Barbara struck an heroic pose. The old man’s smile threatened to reach his ears.

Jack once again interposed himself.
“…bandits” Nevets continued. “I hear there are some orc raiders hiding out in some caves up to the north. It would be a great service to Hommlet if some strong young people like yourself would head on up there and take care of the situation.”

“Right,” said Jack, “and I suppose after that you’ll tell us what you know about the specific escaped bandit we’re looking for?”

“Yup” said Nevets, sneaking another peek past Jack.

“Fine,” said Jack, “everybody out. We’re hunting orcs.”

Barbara gave Nevets a wink as the travelers left.

The journey to the northern caves was uneventful, though the horde of berserk orcs at the end livened things up a bit.

End Part the Twenty First

[Old Book]

Part the Twenty Second: Orc Fight

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

“I wonder if we’ll find treasure in these caves” said Meleny.

“I’m sure we will,” answered Reynard, “a wonderful treasure.”

“Yes, Mel, we’re going to loot the bodies.” “Yes, Mel, that was a very big crayfish.” “Yes. Mel, an army of the unquiet dead haunts these fields and meadows.” Sweet girl, and bright, but all the bubbly enthusiasm got to me.

Reynard and Mel exchanged wide eyed, adoring looks.

Sicking a giant lizard on those two was looking better every day.

“Alright,” I announced, “battle preparation.”

We’d traveled to a cave system north of Hommlet and west of the fishing village of Nulb, at the request of Kenter Nevets, Hommlet’s village elder. Nevets was concerned about an orc raiding party sighted in the area; I wanted to know what Nevets knew about Lareth, the escaped leader of the Moathouse bandits. We made a deal.

As always before our battles, everyone started chanting. Blessings, protective rituals, distortions of space; by the time we were done all of us were glowing, sparking, or (in the case of Dio) actually covered in bark and flowers. Even the dog and chicken were glowing.

“Alright,” I said, “there are more than a dozen caves here, and the whole thing might be a wild goose chase. Quiet and alert, guys.”

“Be a Lert,” whispered Kate.

“Guys?” said Bar, posing in (and somewhat out of) her gladiator armor.

“Just go,” I said, and entered the first cave.

Which was, of course, packed with orcs.

Chanting happily, Dio threw up her hands. The ground of the cave exploded with creepers and vines, tying more than half of the dozen orcs in the cave in place. Almost as fast, Kate’s charged words filled the air with binding silk, which Reynard ignited. Barks of pain and the stench of burnt hair washed back over us.

A few orcs broke through the vines into our ranks, including a roaring, cutlass swinging bastard in armor made of bone. He went straight for Mel, leaping past Bar and taking a shot from her sword in the process. His own cutlass sliced down through Mel’s light leather armor, smashing her to the ground and spraying Reynard with her blood.

I jumped in behind the bone clad leader, slamming my spear into his back. I couldn’t see Bar or Perry, but I heard steel on flesh. The huge bastard was raising his cutlass again, about to bring it down for a second shot that would take Mel’s head from her neck, when Reynard turned and shouted. The dirt beneath the big orc’s feet turned to slick grease, dropping him onto his back.

With an enraged squawk, Mel’s chicken leapt into the greasy mess and somehow managed to keep its feet, slaloming forward and landing a brutal peck on the fallen orc’s neck. Grunting furiously, the orc pulled himself to his feet, leaving me an opening for another jab as he stood. He turned, and I landed my third spear thrust in his gut. Blood pouring from him, the huge thing moved towards me again, then fell. He stopped moving.

Reynard was busily forcing Mel to drink down a blue tinted potion. The blood flow from her wound slowed, and it began to close. I turned and joined the main battle.

Barbara and Perry were battling a fast moving half orc who’d somehow come up and gotten behind our lines. I stepped forward to assist, forgetting the grease Reynard had sprayed under the feat of the huge orc leader. I pitched over onto the corpse. By the time I could stand again, Bar had split the half orc into, well, halves, and Perry was busily conjuring bursts of unbearable sound down onto the orcs that remained. Dio was slinging rocks onto entangled orcs, and Kate was throwing darts of red light from her fingers two at a time.

The fight ended abruptly after Dio started dropping bears on orcs.
The haul was impressive. Two suits of bone armor, one of which appeared to be troll, some decent quality weapons and potions, the contents of a treasure chest, and enough cash to pay us back for all the scrolls we’d burned. Hekate used the magical storage chest she’d picked up in the Moathouse to store most of it. Dio claimed the Troll Bone armor.

I heard Dio asking Kate if she looked cool in the Troll Bone armor as we headed back to Hommlet. Kate told her she’d look better if we could find her a bone helm. Dio agreed.

Next stop, Nevets, to find out what he can tell us about Lareth.

Next: Part the 23rd, the Moral Dimension.

Part the 23rd: The Moral Dimension Part One

Town Elder Nevets and Militia Captain Renton stood together in the town hall, engaged in sober reflection on the affairs of the day.

Well, mostly sober.

“Pass the jug, eh, Renton?” said Nevets.

“As you say, Nevets” said Renton.

With due ceremony, the jug was passed. Nevets took a swig, and the jug was returned.

“Fine woman with a still, your Mrs. Renton,” said Nevets.

“Yes, she is that” said Renton, taking a swig of his own. He frowned slightly, and then returned the jug. “Any word on those adventurers?”

“Which adventurers?” asked Nevets, taking another swig. He noticed with some regret that the jug had been reduced to below the half full mark.

“The ones that cleared out the bandits in the swamp.” said Renton.

“Mmm?” said Nevets. Manners demanded that he return the jug, but with the contents so low perhaps an exception could be made? No, best not to be greedy. He allowed himself an extra sip before passing the jug back.

“The adventurers who healed mad Bing,” said Renton, accepting the jug. Nevets expression remained blank. “The gang Farmer Filkien’s daughter is running about with? Solved the mystery of Black Jay’s sheep? Chased those traders out of town? Delivered a giant’s head to Brother Smyth?”

Nevets smiled brightly, in what in a less respectable personage might be described as inebriated incomprehension, and waited for the return of the jug.

Renton searched for something that might assist Nevets in recalling the young wanderers. “Two men, a female Dwarf, an attractive Elf in a corset, a tough little girl in leather, and a big, good looking girl in a few strips of chain and not much else.”

“Ah, them!” said Nevets, his eyes brightening.

“Yes,” said Renton, drinking and then passing back the jug. “I’ve been worrying over them.”

Nevets smiled, accepting the jug. “I sent them up North to deal with those orcs your militia boys spotted.” He drained the last of the jug with evident satisfaction.

Renton thought on it. “In better times I’d say that was proper. Still, they were spotted with the leader of that Moathouse crew. Can we trust them?”

Through the pleasant haze brought on by the jug’s ex-contents, Nevets nodded sagely. “Trust them to kill orcs? They’re adventurers, Renton. It’s like water flowing down.”

Renton nodded at that, but remained thoughtful. “True, but can we rightfully take their help? Some say they may be bandits, or worse.”

Nevets shrugged. “Some say that Big Frank’s skin condition marks him as a demon, or that your Mrs. Renton and half her friends are witches. You can’t just go around suspecting everyone.”

Renton shifted and looked away. “Ah, er, yes.” Renton gathered himself. “Still, those adventurers are an odd lot.”

Nevets raised white caterpillar eyebrows (that is to say, he raised his eyebrows, which resembled white caterpillars; he was not actually carrying caterpillar eyebrows, an exceedingly rare and possibly fictitious commodity). “Eh? Seemed normal enough. I liked the big girl.”

“Four humans traveling with an elf and a dwarf, and only two males among them?” said Renton. “Smells wrong, like some sort of job lot.”

Nevets shrugged. “What about those four halflings that came through back near the big war, with a dwarf, an elf, and two humans? And the wizard who kept sucking down Elf Smoke. Or those five gnome bards round about three, four years back? Ordinary folk don’t go adventuring.”

Renton conceded the point, and took his leave.

Nevets thought back on the conversation several times during the night, and again the next day when young Kent came running to tell him the adventurers had returned. He rushed to put on a shabbier tunic, and fixed a harmless-old-man look on his face before the gang of them arrived.

They bulled into his house, and Nevets had to admit they were an imposing bunch. All bristled with weapons, and the girls displayed their youth in a way that reminded Nevets a bit painfully of his own years. Even Filkien’s girl was looking like a part of the troupe now, armed and holding a shield too large for her. Their leader, a hard faced man, was polite enough when he spoke.

“Town Elder,” he said, “We’ve done as you asked. We found the orc raiding party, and we took care of them. They won’t be bothering Hommlet.”

“Hommlet thanks you, boy” Nevets replied. Bittersweet as it was, he did like the looks of those girls. The big one was smiling at him. He smiled back.

The boss, Jack or some-such, got in the way of Nevets view. “So,” said possibly Jack, “we’ve kept our part of the bargain. What can you tell us about Lareth, leader of the Moathouse bandits?”

Nevets reluctantly turned his attention back to business. “Not much.” The leader stiffened, and Nevets was suddenly nervous. It wasn’t a sensation he liked. “Still, if anyone does know, it’s probably the Wizard Burne, him and his boys, the Badgers. I’d go and have a word with them if I were you.”

Exasperation in his voice, the leader thanked Nevets, and the gang cleared out.

Nevets considered if he’d done right, sending those kids on to Burne. Well, the self proclaimed Mage of Hommlet had been taking a lot on himself these past few years, sucking up cash for that castle of his and sending his guards out “patrolling”. Let him deal with this, then. Take the sour with the sweet.

Doubtless it will all work out, thought Nevets. He wondered if Lila Renton had another jug handy.

End Part the 23rd. Next: The Moral Dimension Part Two.

[Old Book]

Any and all feedback greatly appreciated.

[Guinaur]

Wow, I just sat for about 3 hours and read this... and it was amazing! I love the way the story/game is depicted here. Please continue ^_^

[Old Book]

Wow, I just sat for about 3 hours and read this... and it was amazing! I love the way the story/game is depicted here. Please continue ^_^

Thanks. :smallsmile:

[Old Book]

Part the 24th: The Moral Dimension Part Two.

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

Verbing inbred noun kickers.

I was cursing as we left Nevets place. We had to find Lareth if we wanted to get into the temple quietly, and every leader of Hommlet had blown us off. We’d done every errand they’d asked of us, textbook adventuring, and it hadn’t gotten us any closer.
“We’ve risked out lives for these verbers, and all we get is dirty looks and the run-around!” I snarled.

“And that magic horn the smith gave you” said Hekate.

“And a nice crossbow from the tailor” said Dionysia.

“Look..” I began, but Barbara interrupted.

“And we got some gold” said Barbara.

“The smith and cabinet maker have both granted us access to their finest wares” said Persephone.

“We have free rooms at the Welcome Wench, as long as we want them” said Dio.

“That’s not the …” I tried to say, but they kept going.

“We made some serious cash clearing the Moathouse,” said Reynard, “and, also, I got Meleny.”

“I got you” said Meleny, taking Reynard’s hand.

“I got this Holy Sword” said Bar, brandishing the sword.

“Well,” said Mel, “my Foxy-loxy gave it to you. It belonged to Uncle George.”

“Foxy-loxy?” said Bar. Reynard looked uncomfortable.

“Black Jay,” said Dio, “gave you some Boots of Elvenkind.”

“And we have the satisfaction of knowing that we have defended the good people of the Flannes,” said Perry, “put down the unquiet dead, and slain a giant!”

“So,” said Hekate, “personal satisfaction, access to goods and services, cash, tools and weapons…”

“Quit it!” I hated it when they started taking the piss. “Look, the point is, what we need now is cooperation, and we’re not getting that!”

I felt like an idiot, and Kate was grinning at me.

It’s hard to stay angry when a cute Elf in a corset is smiling at you. This is especially true when you suspect that, winding you up or not, your friends might have a point.

Does a good man become angry at good people when they suspect him with cause? Does he let that anger make him lash out?

Am I good or am I neutral?

We arrived at Burne’s tower. It was a huge, half finished structure on the eastern edge of Hommlet, almost finished. The laborer’s camp in the North East was becoming a fixture in the village; if the itinerant laborers remained, Hommlet might soon qualify as a true town, maybe even a small city in a decade or two. Burne, the “Mage of Hommlet”, and his companion Rufus were veteran adventurers themselves, smart and tough. They claimed to have built the tower to keep watch against menaces to the region, but I couldn’t help noticing that they’d left us to deal with bandits less than a day’s march away.

“Kate,” I began, “you talk to Burne. He likes you. I’ll talk to Rufus and the guards. Reynard, you talk to Burne’s apprentice, the cute sorceress girl. She wanted to travel with us earlier, hint that we might be recruiting.”

“Maybe,” said Meleny, “my love could talk to the guards?” She looked worried.

I shrugged. “Fine,” I said. I’d heard that other adventuring companies obeyed their leader without question, but experience was teaching me that this was not always the case.

We entered the tower and started talking.

After a chilly reception, Hekate asked Burne about his adventures and ended up in a riddle contest. She won some scrolls off him. I got nowhere with Rufus or the apprentice. Reynard hit paydirt with the guard.

“They have him in the dungeons” he told me quietly, as Kate continued chatting up Rufus. I signaled a withdrawal.

We gathered outside. “Hekate,” I said, “can you get us in without Rufus and Burne spotting us?”

Kate nodded. “I have the scrolls. They won’t see us.”

Perry looked concerned. “My friend,” she said, “what exactly shall we do once we find the villain?”

“We grab him, get him out of here, and take him back to the Temple. Then, we get in without raising an alarm.”

Perry looked even more anxious. “Jack,” she said, “he is a criminal in the hands of the rightful authorities, a leader of killers and the priest of a dark goddess.”

Damn it! Why couldn’t anyone just go along? I tried to keep my voice calm. “Our mission,” I said, “is to find and rescue the Princess Tillahi. We can’t do that if the bad guys know we’re coming and kill her before we get there.”

Persephone looked like she was biting back her response.
“Are we going, or not?” I asked.

Perry nodded. She didn’t look happy. Neither did Bar or Dio, or Mel. Even Fox and Kate looked unhappy.

Hell, the dog and chicken were making big eyes at me.

“Kate?” I asked.

“Join hands” said Kate, and then she read her scroll. The world took on a strange, wavering quality. As long as we stayed close to Kate, no one would see us.

We moved back into Burne’s Tower, walked right past him and Rufus, and went down the stairs. There was a guard on the next level down, and while I could have talked our way past him I’m glad I didn’t have to. We went down the next flight, and arrived in what looked more like a wine cellar than a dungeon. Maybe it was used as both.

And there was Lareth.

He was nude, and looked the worse for wear, covered in cuts and bruises. Some kind of magical ward surrounded him.

I knew what to do. Kate could use a scroll to break the ward, and another to get the bunch of us back out of here unseen.

I knew what would happen. Lareth would be grateful. Even if he’d been planning a betrayal the first time he’d taken us to the Temple, this time he’d gladly get us in, even support us as much as he could. From what little we’d learned from his diary, the Temple was a hotbed of politics, and our rescue of Tillahi could tip the scales in favor of his faction.

Persephone would never forgive me. Neither would Barbara.

We would be freeing the priest of a dark goddess, a killer and a leader of killers. We would be supporting this villain in his endeavors, putting him in a greater position of power than he’d had before we cleaned out his followers in the Moathouse.

Am I good, or am I neutral?

Am I evil?

Lareth had once mockingly asked me that about himself.

I signaled the others to follow, and I led them out of the tower.

“We’re going to find another way” I told them. “We’re heading to Nulb. Maybe we can find another contact to get us into the Temple there.”

Persephone smiled with relief, a girl come out of darkness. I realized for the first time that, for a dwarf, she was surprisingly pretty. Barbara, Hekate and Meleny looked much happier as well. Fox nodded at me.

If worse came to worse, we could come back for Lareth later, but I didn’t mention that.

We headed to the port village of Nulb.

End Part the 24th. Next: Part the 25th; Nulb

[Toxic Avenger]

Wow, I just sat for about 3 hours and read this... and it was amazing! I love the way the story/game is depicted here. Please continue ^_^QFT.

I've found it to be quite an entertaining read so far. Once I got started reading, I had a very hard time stopping whenever I needed to (I was reading while at work, so I had to stop quite often...:smallannoyed: ).

Please, keep it coming, I'm looking forward to the next installment.

[Old Book]

Part the 25th: Nulb

Over the ridge they marched, two human men, three human women, an elf, a dwarf, a dog and a chicken.

Past the edge of the Gnarley Forest they marched, along the blue ribbon of the swift flowing Velverdyver. Through the Kron Hills along the High Road to Sobawych they marched, and within sight of the Low Road linking the Viscounty of Verbobonc to Dyvers. For half a day they marched, past farmer’s fields and stony hillsides, past fetid swamps and haunted glens, until, at last, the grey port village of Nulb clung to the river-bank before them.

“Tell me again,” said the blue haired elf, “why we didn’t get some horses?”

The travelers moved down towards the village. Jack, the darker of the two men, looked over the area. “As soon as we find some horses, we’ll buy them.”

“So,” said Reynard, trying to move things away from the by now much discussed issue of the absence of horses, “from here I can see an inn, a tavern, a smithy, one or two shops, and a building that’s either a playhouse or a brothel, all serving a community of under two-hundred residents.”

“Sounds like we’re in the right place,” said Jack.

“Daddy,” said Meleny, youngest of the female humans, “says only bad people come to Nulb.”

Persephone, the dwarf, smiled and shook her head. “You father is a fine man,” she began, as the group continued winding along the road, “but I would not judge the inhabitants of an entire village so swiftly.”

Reynard, Hekate and Jack fell back, allowing Persephone and her audience to pass. Barbara smiled as Perry warmed to her topic, and both she and Meleny remained close.

“Moradin teaches that all may draw near the light of his forge,” Dio continued. “We begin as base, impure ore, but through the hammer of hard work and the tongs of correct choice making, the true metal of the soul shines forth.” The cleric was taking in a breath, preparing to expand on her theme, when a bend in the road revealed a bridge, the main street of the town, and a zombie.

“Moradin!” shouted Perry, raising her axe. Light blasted from the weapon, burning through the monster. The de-animated corpse fell to the road.

The travelers gathered round. The corpse was covered with signs and notices.

“They were using a zombie as a signpost” flatly noted Hekate.

“Some ore’s pretty impure” commented Jack, moving past and onto the bridge.

“That’s when it’s time for a bigger hammer” said Perry to his back. Jack did not respond.

Looking down at the sign-post corpse as the group continued into town, Reynard the Fox noted that the large building on the East side of town was indeed a brothel, not a theater.

“Alright,” said Jack, “same drill as Hommlet. We go through town, looking for people who need our help. Lareth’s diary implies a connection between this town and the Temple; someone here should be able to offer us a quiet way in.” Jack paused. “We should also be on the look out for Morgause, Lila Renton’s friend. Might as way get more of her scavenger’s hunt cleared away while we’re here.”

Nulb was a river port, and it showed both in the buildings and populace. Every shack and shop was built of weathered wood, mainly scavenged from shipwrecks. Nulb’s men affected an aggressive, piratical air, while the few women on the streets wore poorly maintained clothes of once-expensive fabric and cut.

“Sir,” said Jack to an older man loitering near the bridge, “may I have a moment of your time?”

“Get verbed” the man replied.

Jack held his temper, forcing concern into his voice. “Grandfather,” said Jack, “I can tell you’re in great pain. Perhaps we can help?”

The old man seemed taken aback. “Eh? How’d you know that? Truth is, I’ve got a toothache that would kill a troll.”
“A toothache?” said Jack. “Isn’t there someone in Nulb who could help you with that?”
Hekate, hanging back with the rest of the heavily armed adventurers, started grinning,

“Yup,” grunted the old man, “one of the pirates. Handsome fella named Bertram, hangs out up at the Boatman’s Tavern. He’s good with teeth. No money to pay him though, not these days.” Reluctantly, he offered his name. “Preston Wrest.”

“Jack Swift” said Jack. “Why are you having money problems?”

The old man gave an ugly grin. “Well, ya see, I’m in the way of being a service provider, and my best clients ain’t been paying. Mona the fortune teller, and Ophelia, proprietress of the Snake Pit. They been having their own problems; they can’t pay me, an I can’t get my tooth fixed.”

Jack nodded. “Fair enough. We’ll talk to Mona and Ophelia for you.”

“Much obliged,” declared Wrest. “Here’s a gold piece for your trouble.”

Hekate was smirking as the group moved on and up to the North. “A whole gold piece, Jack!”

Jack shook his head. “Just lay off, eh? Favor trading works.”

Perry’s voice carried gentle disapproval. “My friend, I could likely have cured that man’s pain. If not, we could have given him the money for his dentist. Instead, we now act as his agents.”

“Poorly paid agents” interrupted Hekate, still grinning.

“Indeed,” said Perry. “I accept your choice, Jack, but what are your reasons?”

Irritated, Jack ran a hand through his hair. “If we just healed that type or handed him cash, we’d be marks.” Jack tried to keep the irritation from his voice. “By offering to do him a favor, we already have the names of three more townsfolk, two of them with problems, and we have an excuse to talk with them; our chances of finding a covert way into the Temple have gone up.”

At the docks on the North-West of town, the young travelers encountered Grud Squinteye. A rapid negotiation ensued with the old fisherman.

“And if we agree to catch this giant gar for you, Grud?” asked Jack.

“Then,” said Grud, “I’ll gladly tell every man in Nulb what fine friends you are! Old Grud’s name carries weight around here! You’ll see!”

Jack agreed. The group would travel to Imeryd’s Run, a nearby swamp spotted with deep pools, and catch a giant gar.

“And now we’re going fishing?” asked Perry, as the group marched once more out into the swamps.

“Look,” barked Jack, “it’s not all bravely charging the enemy on a sunny day!” He drew a breath. “We do these errands, we earn people’s trust, and we get the information we need to go on.” Angrily, Jack shook his head. “This is a safe and simple side trip, and you are not the conscience of this team.”

At which point, the swamps exploded with enemies all around them.

From the East, two gigantic frog-like things charged forwards, one larger than a bear, the other a true behemoth measuring nearly twenty feet in length. From the West, a troll-like Sea Hag charged forwards, shrieking and swinging a whip above her head. A dozen lizard men charged behind her.

“OK, it may not be safe” said Jack, drawing his rapier and attempting to interpose himself between Hekate and the gigantic frogs.

“I never claimed to be your conscience” said Persephone, and then began chanting in ancient dwarfish as she blocked the Sea Hag’s charge against Reynard and Meleny. In a burst of blue light, a floating hammer appeared by her side.

“Just stop!” cried Dionysia, smoothly bringing up her spear and driving it into the side of the smaller frog-thing. Blood and slime sprayed, but the smaller frog still managed to snake its impossibly long tongue around Hekate, interrupting the elf's own chanting and causing failed and broken magic to sparkle harmlessly away.

“Minds in the game!” Reynard threw out his hands, releasing a spray of grease onto the water before the hag and lizard men. The hag charged through unimpeded. Meleny let the magic pour through her, and vines and creepers filled the waters. The charge of the lizard men came to a sudden halt, but the massive Sea Hag moved through the tangle of vegetation unimpeded. The Sea Hag’s whip snaked down around Perry’s shield, slicing into the dwarf’s shoulder above her armor. Poison mixed with blood in the wound.

“Kord!” shouted Barbara. Space warped and twisted around her, transforming her into a small giantess. The Behemoth King Frog took advantage of her size, striking a terrible blow, its full weight driving behind jaws far larger than a man. Barbara’s flesh tore, her blood splashing into the water.

“Barbara!” shouted Jack, leaping at the King Frog’s back, driving his needle-like rapier with a surgeon’s precision into the monster’s flesh, seeking a weakness.

Confidently snapping out her axe despite her wound, Persephone landed a blow that tore through the Sea Hag’s leathery hide and into iron-hard muscle. The glowing hammer beside her struck as well, crashing into the Sea Hag’s side. Enraged, the hag struck out at Persephone in a frenzy, tearing skin and flesh alike, poisoned whip and claws extracting a terrible price.

Meleny franticly recited from a scroll, calling up a creature of living water to strike against the hag, while Reynard took space into his hands and twisted, doubling Dio’s size and brining a second giantess to the fray. Hekate released a brilliant blast of colors from her fingertips, failing to affect the gigantic frog-thing that held her, and then shrieked as it drew her into its maw. Dionysia struck at the frog again with her now tree-trunk like spear, but her foot slipped in the swamp, and the blow missed entirely.

A ball of angry feathers exploded from the swamp water, as Meleny’s vengeful avian defender’s beak and talons tore into the giant frog’s back. Dio’s dog leapt forward as well, its jaws ripping a bloody gash in the amphibian’s side. Croaking and convulsing, the frog began sinking beneath the water.

Despite her wounds, Barbara stayed on her feet, producing two great cleavers from her belt. Shouting with baresark rage and filled with the power of her god, she spun, each cleaver in turn splashing through the Behemoth’s blubber, leaving deep and ragged wounds one above the other. The Behemoth King Frog lunged again, massive maw snapping, inflicting another terrible blow against the young giantess. Only her anger held her to consciousness.

Jack struck again against the King Frog, inflicting another surgically accurate wound, as Persephone chanted in dwarfish took a step back away from the hag. A second floating hammer interspersed itself between Persephone and her enemy, and Meleny’s own chanting added a creature of living fire to the battle. Surrounded by conjured foes, the Sea Hag tore into the water elemental, dispersing it, but sustaining hammer blows and the second elemental’s fiery touch in the process. Reynard released a spray of deadly globes of light from his hands, but they dissipated uselessly as they struck the hag.

“I hate this!” cried the muck covered Hekate as she pulled herself from the giant frog’s corpse. A jet of fire sprayed from her hands, burning into the side of the Behemoth King Frog. Blows from Dionysia and Barbara, Dio’s dog and Mel’s chicken followed. The King Frog struck out once more, weakly, but its time was done. It sank into the water. Jack poured the contents of a bottle over the worst of Barbara’s wounds, washing away blood and filth and stopping the bleeding.

Persephone called on the power of Moradin, filling the air with the clanging sound of hammer on anvil; the Sea Hag staggered, and under hammer blows it fell.

After that, dealing with the lizard men was nothing at all.

Barbara and Persephone, Dionysia and Meleny worked together; the blue-green light of healing magic filled the air. Wounds were tended, bodies were looted, an enchanted figurine was recovered from the swamp to the East, and the giant gar was located to the North and summarily slain and stuffed in a sack.

The group began to march back to Nulb. Jack moved close to Persephone.

“Perry, I…” he began.

“You fought well back there,” Perry interrupted, “my friend.”

Jack gave a tight smile and shrugged. “You saved Fox and the farm girl. They couldn’t have survived the hag.”

Persephone returned the smile. “I was pleased to be of assistance.”

They continued briefly in silence. “Anyway,” offered Jack, “sometimes we need a good group conscience.”

Perry’s smile was wide and genuine. “That is not a job I’m suited for, Jack.”

“Who’s leader?” asked Jack, but now both the man and the dwarf were more relaxed.

“That would be you,” Perry answered.

“Call your self second in command, then,” said Jack, and moved to re-join Hekate.

“I thought I was second in command” said Fox, as the sun set over the fens.

End part the 25th. Next: Part the 26th, Orbits.

[Old Book]

Part the 26th, Orbits

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

“I’m almost out of spells and scrolls” said Kate.

“I fear that is true for all of us, my friend” said Perry.

“We’ll find someplace to rest up in Nulb,” I said.

We’d just survived stumbling into a small tribe of non-humans in Imeryd’s Run. Lizard men, giant frogs, even a Sea Hag. We’d been lucky.

“Jack,” said Perry, “perhaps we should make the trip back to Hommlet? Strained as they may be, we have relationships with the people of that village, and rooms we know to be secure. We are strangers in Nulb.”

“It’s most of a day’s march” said Kate, “and Barbara is carrying a giant fish in a sack.”

“We could,” inserted Bar, “put this thing in that magic storage chest you’re carrying.”

“And get fish stink all over my equipment?”

“Better yours than mine,” said Bar.

“We head to Nulb,” I said. “Give the fish to Grud as soon as we get to town, and get him to start spreading the good word about us. After that, we can find an inn. Kate, Perry, Fox and Dio, you can prepare more scrolls; Dio, you can do some training with Mel. After that, we’ll bed down for the night.”

We trekked through the swamps back to Nulb. Bar and Kate bickered most of the way.

Nulb was an ugly village; dirty, foul smelling, built from water damaged wood and the wreckage of old ships. The streets were mostly raised boardwalks over marshy ground and open water. The men swaggered like buccaneers, and the women had a swing to their hips and a hard glint in their eyes. I liked the place.

The sun was just setting on our return. I noticed that someone had hauled off the remains of the zombie sign post, and placed a more traditional post before the main bridge. We followed the directions to the docks.

“We have your fish for you, Grud,” I said. Barbara hauled the head of the huge thing out of where Grud could see it, and then dropped the sack at his feet.

“Ha! You did it!” Grud seemed pleased. “That’ll show ‘em! Grud Squinteye ain’t no spinner of tall tales! There were a giant gar in the run!”

“And for us, Grud?”

“Heh, I’ll be lettin’ every man in Nulb know yer me friends, and fine fishermen ta boot!”

We left Squinteye then, and headed back to the signpost.

“Tavern?” asked Fox.

“Bed?” suggested Hekate.

“Brothel,” I said. According to the signpost, the place was named the Snake Pit.

“OK,” said Fox, “brothel.” Then Mel hit him.

“We’ve taken care of Grud,” I said. “Now we go and see if we can deal with Preston Wrest’s problems.”

Perry nodded, and Bar and Dio shrugged, but Kate was looking angry.

I started walking towards the Snake Pit. In my experience, if you just start walking, your friends will follow. They followed.

We spotted a townswoman in front of Mother Screng’s Apothecary and Tattoo Parlor (at the South East end of Nulb’s boardwalk, across from the Snake Pit, Real Potions from Real Witches, Low Prices Every Day). The woman turned out to be Moragause, Lila Renton’s fellow coven member, and told us that the curette Lila was looking for was being held by one of the girls in the brothel.

In front of the Snake Pit, we met the slave and the fortune teller.

“I have foreseen your coming, friends of Grud Squinteye, and I believe you are destined to help me.” The fortune teller, Mona, was a short, heavy set woman in colorful clothing. Her accent was unusual.

“How’d she know we were friends of Grud?” whispered Dio.

“Fortune teller” replied Kate.

I tried to ignore them. “How can we help you?” I asked Mona.

“My crystal ball has been stolen,” said Mona, “You must retrieve it for me.”

“Do you know who stole it?” As I was talking with Mona, I saw Fox chatting with an attractive young woman by the brothel entrance.

“It was a boy!” said Mona, raising one hand in the air. “A boy in the arms of darkness, yet not yet beyond the light!” Her voice took on a sing-song quality. “A boy torn between good and evil, between farm and sea, between craft and cruelty!” She paused a moment, and then, hesitantly, ventured a “Wooo!”

“Please stop that,” I said.

“Eh?” said the fortune teller.

“That was very unhelpful.”

She shrugged. “Sorry. The tourists like a bit of a show.”

“We’re trying to help you. Who stole the orb?” I put my hand on my rapier, to remind her that helping was only one alternative.

“Mickey, the brewer’s apprentice from Hommlet. He hangs out nights, on the boardwalk near the Waterside Hostel. Young lad, doesn’t fit in here. You can’t miss him.”

“Thanks,” I said, and went over to where Fox was chatting with the girl.

“Into the Snake Pit” I told Fox. He said his goodbyes to the girl, and the whole gang of us piled into the brothel.

The brothel was clean and well kept, a change compared to the rest of Nulb. Madam Ophelia greeted us at the door. Gorgeous human woman, blond, with enough perfectly applied makeup to make guessing her age a near impossibility and enough perfume to stun a werewolf at ten paces. She and Hekate were wearing matching corsets, a fact that both women clearly noticed. They exchanged polite nods.

“Gentlemen, ladies, welcome to the Snake Pit.” The combination of her voice and looks, especially with the contrast between her and Kate, was suggesting all sorts of ways she could help me, but I kept my mind on business.

(I had Kate, brave and beautiful, and good with spell and bow; letting my mind drift too far south wasn’t worth the risk.)

I won’t detail how I retrieved Lila’s Curette; there are some aspects of my time in Nulb I’d rather forget. Suffice to say that it was indeed in the hands of one of the girls, and a brief negotiation with the Madam put us in contact. I may never be able to look at surgical instruments or barnyard animals in quite the same way again.

After that was resolved, I asked Ophelia why she was having trouble paying Preston Wrest, and how I might be of service.

“There may be something you can help me with” she said in that wonderful voice. “Most of my girls are happy in their work, and I’m happy with them.” She leaned forward and started running her right hand up and down my forearm as she spoke. “I think of myself as a big sister to my girls; I look out for them, care for them. We’re a family.” Her left hand pressed against my chest. “But then there’s Riana, one of my girls. She has been sending customers away unhappy.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “So far, out of kindness, I’ve given Riana time. But she’s hurting the Snake Pit.”

“Why…” I squeaked, and then got my own voice under control, “If she’s not happy working here, maybe it would be best to let her go?”

“I’d love to, my dear,” she said, her right thigh now brushing my own, “but there are practical considerations. When I took Riana in, I paid her debts, and protected her from some dreadful people. I’ve housed her, and fed her, and cared for her. I’ve made a considerable investment in my Riana. That investment needs repaying.” Her right hand drifted up over my bicep, joining her left on my chest. “I’d appreciate it if you could have a word with her.”

I nodded my agreement. As I turned away, I saw Hekate looking frankly at me, her own right hand resting casually on her bow. With her left hand she scratched her shoulder, beside her quiver. I headed upstairs, to Riana’s room.

The Snake Pit’s upstairs working space was clean and well furnished, but old, cheap wood showed behind expensive wall hangings. Riana paced in her room, and glared at me as I entered. She was dark haired and athletic, an excellent build displayed in the brothel’s uniform of a few strips of not all that much. Unsmiling, she asked “Why are you here?”

“Madam Ophelia sent me. She says you’re unhappy here.”

She tossed her hair. It occurred to me that she looked a lot like the girl Fox had been chatting up outside.

“Get out,” she said.

I remained in the doorway. I was tired. Tired of trying to win people’s trust, tired of Nulb, and tired of arguing with my own adventuring company over every little decision. I just wanted to find a Temple contact or two and get out of Nulb.

“You owe Madam Ophelia money; she owes Preston Wrest money. Something needs to be done about this situation.”

“I won’t whore for Ophelia! Now get out!” She was angry, and frightened.

I tightened my hand on my rapier hilt. There were ways and ways to persuade someone.

Then I took a breath, and let it out.

None of the gang would accept solving the problem that way. Even I wouldn’t accept it. Charming or reasoning her into doing her job wasn’t going to work either. I saw only one option.

“What if I paid your debt to Ophelia? What would you do then?”

She looked shocked, then suspicious. “Why would you do that?” she asked.

“Stupidity can’t be ruled out” I said, and headed back downstairs.

Kate, Ophelia, and all the girls were chatting pleasantly when I returned to the entrance room. Even Mel was laughing at something. Fox looked uncomfortable.
“How much to pay Riana’s debts, Madam,” I asked, “how much to buy her contract?”

Ophelia looked at me. “I don’t know,” she said, “is this really what Riana wants?”

“It is.”

“Well,” said Ophelia, the shrewd businesswoman showing briefly through the seductress mask, “Riana’s services are valuable to me, and I’ve spent quite a few coins helping her out these last few months. Perhaps, say, 500 in gold?”

“Done,” I said, and handed a pouch of coins over. The entire gang was staring at me as though I’d grown an extra head.

Ophelia seemed shocked as well, but she rallied. “It’s a bargain, then,” she said, taking the money. “Her contract is yours, and you may do with her as you like.”

I headed back upstairs.

“I’ve paid your debts,” I said to Riana, “and paid off your contract. You’re free to go.”

She looked shocked. “What?”

I explained again. I don’t think she believed me, but she followed me down the stairs.

Ophelia was cool at first, but the money had warmed her heart sufficiently to keep her talking. “I have another problem you may be able to help me with,” she said. “Mickey, the brewer’s apprentice from Hommlet, has been hanging around here. He frightens the girls, and annoys the guests. Perhaps you could have a little word with him?”

I agreed, and led the gang and Riana outside. It was clear that Kate and company wanted a word, but I stared them down. I wasn’t in the mood.

“Riana!”

“Serena!”

Almost as soon as we stepped outside, Riana was holding onto the girl Fox had been speaking with earlier. Both Riana and the other girl were weeping, Seen together, the family resemblance was obvious. Once they’d calmed down slightly, a story emerged.

“We were traveling on the Nyr Dyv,” said Riana.

“When we were captured by pirates,” said Serena.

“I was sold to the brothel,” said Riana, “I couldn’t escape.”

“And I was sold to the fortuneteller;” said Serena, “even if I could have gotten away, I couldn’t flee without my sister.”

I didn’t need prompting. I handed another pouch of coins over to the gypsy, and Serena was free.

We took out the storage chest and gave the two leather armor, daggers, crossbows, bolts, and a spare set of lock-picking tools.

“Let us come with you!” said Serena.

“We work best as a pair!” said Riana.

“We can do all sorts of things for you!” said Serena.

“All sorts!” said Riana.

Meleny looked close to panic, Dio looked depressed, Bar looked amused, and Kate was wearing a calm smile that promised mayhem.

I turned the sisters down, and wished them well. They had weapons, gear and freedom, more than enough for a fair chance in a place like Nulb.

Chasing down Mickey wasn’t much of a task. He was right where Mona had said he’d be, on the boardwalk a short distance from the Waterside Hostel. Unhappy looking kid, he’d been in a recent fight and hadn’t come out of it well. I wasn’t feeling sympathetic. I forced him to hand over the orb, and told him to stay away from the Snake Pit. He ran off.

On the way back to the Snake Pit, Kate asked me a question.

“When we got here,” she said, “you told Perry that just handing cash to Preston Wrest would make us marks. Then you went and handed out bags of cash to help those two girls.”

“Do you think it was a mistake?” I asked.

“No, I think it was a good choice; I just want to know why you did it.”

“Two bags of gold,” I told her, “helped earn us the trust of a madam and a fortune teller, moved us closer to earning the goodwill of a third Nulb citizen, and freed two slaves without drawing a weapon.”

Kate nodded.

We returned the orb to Mona. “You have done much for me” she said, keeping the tourist-oriented histrionics to a minimum, “allow me to do something for you in return. Would you like to know your future?”

“Maybe,” I said. When a mysterious old lady offers to tell your future, you agree, but you try to hedge your bets; basic adventuring. “Can we change the future you reveal, or is it fixed?”

Her grin revealed her own serious need for a dentist. “Your destiny is your own; I reveal only glimpses, and for such good friends I can help to shape what I show. What sort of future do you wish for?”

I considered.

“Bags and bags of gold and a huge harem of concubines?” suggested Fox. Mel hit him again. It was nice to see their relationship maturing.

“A great crusade against Evil?” said Bar. “A victorious crusade,” she added.

“Success in our mission” said Perry.

“University positions with tenure, and happy, healthy children” suggested Kate, scaring me deeply.

“To make the world better” suggested Dio.

“I wish,” I said, “for challenging adventure.”

Mona’s eye glinted strangely, and a flash of light came from her crystal ball. She reached out and marked our map in the right hand margin, where we kept text notes.

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew” said Mona.

We headed past the sisters, still discussing their plans, and entered the Snake Pit. I told Madam Ophelia I’d taken care of her problem with Mickey.

“Ophelia was telling us,” said Kate, “that she sometimes rents out rooms.”

I decided not to argue. “How much for rooms for us, Madam?”

“All six of you, plus a dog and a chicken? Even by my standards, that’s unusual.” Ophelia considered. “Thirty gold.”

I paid it, and we went to our rooms.

End part the 26th. Next: House Party