MintyNinja
2015-11-29, 12:53 AM
I said I'd write up the log when I started this game, so here we go.
Obligatory spoiler warning for all events in Out of the Abyss.
Ideal Iados: Cleric of Life 3. A male tiefling with ruddy brown skin, black eyes and black ponytail. His horns are short and his tail is thin, but this man is always grinning. It seems like he's always in on a joke that no one's told yet. He's a priest of Llira, the goddess of joy, but those others in his order can't ever seem to see past his heritage.
Jakrotaj: Paladin of Vengeance 3. Another male tiefling with bright, red skin and a commanding presence. His hair hangs loose about his shoulders and he has a full, black beard. As an officer in the Order of the Gauntlet, he's made a name for himself. Most of the men and women he works with call him Red Jak and he holds the moniker with pride.
Xanaphia Chi: Moon Druid 3. An elven woman with pale skin, silver-white hair, and green eyes. She's quite a bit taller than most other elves and thicker of frame. Her reserved nature has served her well as the keeper of an ancient ruin in a long abandoned forest. Her druidic abilities have kept her from succumbing to the loneliness that befalls many other hermits.
Asheem Kahliel: Eldritch Knight 3. A small Calimshan man with hazel toned skin and short, dark hair. His mannerisms seem to adapt to whichever situation he finds himself in, which has served him well in his years as a Cultist of Orcus. But now, with his brothers wiped out to nearly a man, he's been putting his skills and abilities to the test trying to put his past behind him.
Flint Ironfist: Battlemaster 3. A sturdy dwarven man seemingly carved from the stone itself. Brown skin, brown eyes, closely cropped brown hair, and a braided brown beard. A lifetime of fighting and moving and fighting again, this Gauntlgrym soldier knows more tricks with the maul than many know at all.
This first session was mostly character creation and introductions. We only got so far before calling it a night.
Session 1
The caravan was moving northward for many weeks and the journey was only made easier by the inclusion of the tiefling cleric. Ideal Iados had left the Temple of Llira in Waterdeep against his wishes, but doing anything to countermand the decision would have proved the decision needed. Seeing the conundrum, he decided to turn his sights to the savage frontier in the north and spread the teachings of the goddess of joy, or even just put smiles on the faces of others.
It was during a routine night that he was woken by the screams. He stood up immediately, mace in one hand, shield in the other. And then a bolt pierced his side. He tore it out, healing the wound and looked about in confusion. Then another bolt hit him from the other side. He called out, but no one answered. His comrades were no where to be seen, and the attackers had yet to show themselves. Then a third bolt thudded home in his hip and the poison began it's work. Just as he was passing out, a dark figure emerged from around the wagon and punched Ideal with the pommel of his sword, muttering an exasperated curse in elven, "What's this one even made of?"
Rain thrummed down from the dark sky over the leaking roof of the abandoned roadhouse. Red Jak sat by the window watching the lightning play in the distance. It had been a night much like this one that set him on his path of vengeance. The screams and cries of that night haunted him still, bringing forth the first tendrils of righteous fury. But he calmed himself and got ready to sleep for the night. Just as his chainmail was set aside he heard the smashing of glass from upstairs. Something had wrecked one of the few remaining windows in the building. He took up his sword and shield and a preternatural instinct had him turn and cut down a silent attacker. The black, elven features clued him in to who his attackers were, but he had only a half a second before the next came in from behind. Then another. And another. The paladin was overwhelmed quickly and the poison brought him down without any more drow casualties.
He awoke intermittently on the trail to... wherever he was being taken too. He might have been sold at some point, but he never got too much of a feel for his captors. At one point he chose to punish one that laid a hand on him with a hellish rebuke. The drow took the flames in shock, but the surrounding quaggoths soon beat Red Jak to within an inch of his life. He didn't try the fire trick again.
An incredibly wrathful storm was blowing over the section of forest that housed Xanaphia Chi, but she was well prepared. She had foreseen it the day previous and had stockpiled what supplies she would need in her shelter. An unusual snapping of a branch triggered her own reflexes and she leapt nearly 20 feet straight up into the higher branches of a tree. Down below, the place she had been hunkered down was a sphere of blackness and she watched as three forms charged out of the surrounding brush with their swords slashing wildly at where they thought she was. Unsure of how to handle threatening humanoids, she created the smell of a skunk in the vicinity in an effort to drive them away. It didn't work. They looked around, spotted her, and each began firing small bolts at her. The poison took hold quickly and Xanaphia fell from her vantage point to the mud below.
When she awoke, the drow seemed to be arguing fiercely. One was berating the other for bringing the druid back from death, while the priestess merely watched. The loud one lost the argument as he was disemboweled there on the spot. Xanaphia managed to discern that the Matron Mothers would pay an incredibly high price for such a slave as her. Then they knocked her out again.
The wiry man had been watching them for a few days now. The Order of the Gauntlet's headquarters in Waterdeep was a very well fortified tavern. Asheem had learned through whispers and bribes that these were the men responsible for cutting down the sect of his brothers here in the city. The Waterdhavian Branch of his organization was no where to be found, and his own group in Baldur's Gate was brought down all around him. He was still conflicted as to how he felt about all this, half angry at the loss of his comrades, half relieved that he was free to be his own man once again. As he watched from the rooftop across the street he heard a few quick steps on the tiles behind him. With half a thought his cutlass was in his hand and he swung it around, cutting the drow down with a single swing. Two more appeared from behind cover not 20 feet away. In a moment of pure adrenaline, Asheem ran forward and leapt the side street below, crashing down on the shingles of another rooftop. He made it maybe six feet before he was stuck through with a long, curved sword, the force of the blow knocking him flat on his back. He got a glimpse of the drow's smile before he was shot with the poison bolt and it all faded out.
He was awoken only to eat with the other slaves as they made the long march deep underground. Humans of varying ages and builds circled the small cook fire for their meager rations. One of these many meals, Asheem slipped his manacles and bolted. No thought to where he'd go, or what supplies he'd need, he ran blindly up the tunnel. Three bolts and the combined poison brought him down with a crash. From then on, he was kept away from the others and fed only half rations.
Flint Ironfist was not one of the Emerald Enclave's scouts, but he was a dear friend to their leader in Gauntlgrym: Morista Malkin. On a personal favor, he was accompanying a new troupe in the depths below the dwarven stronghold when they were ambushed. He fought well, slaying a pair of the dark elves, but they had the numbers and the training and soon he was the sole survivor. They had him disarmed, wounded, and bound and then they began questioning him. One of their number spoke enough common to get across their desire for information. His reply was short and terse. They threatened him, and he responded in kind. They knew their poisons would take quite a while to work through his natural resistances, so they opted to beat him into unconsciousness instead. They could use a slave that knew a thing or two about stonework.
Red Jak was the first to arrive at the outpost. His captors had picked him and his gear up during one of the many times he was in a poison slumber. Perhaps they raided his original captors, or perhaps they traded. He didn't know. They brought him up with the lift and he got a glance around the outpost before they threw him in the slave pen with the rest. Around the edges of the room were a collection of slaves of wildly different forms.
From their midst an orc stepped forward and boasted loudly, "Hey, New-Meat, I'm the boss here. You'll be doin' as I say, 'right?"
"Seems to me like they're the bosses, actually," Red Jak responded, gesturing to the drow through the bars of the door.
"I mean, yeah, but I'm the boss in this cave! You better not forget it!"
"We'll see."
The next day, three new slaves were brought into the pen: another tiefling, a human, and an elf. As they entered, the orc tried his bullying routine again, but when he got to the elf, he got flustered and started panicking. He began babbling about how there was no way the drow would let a real elf live this long, that she must be a monster or something. No one seemed to make much sense of it, but then he started swinging. In an instant both of the tieflings were on him and he was dropped to the ground in short order. Xanaphia muttered her thanks and sidestepped the whole situation. Asheem stepped back and began searching the ground for any usefully shaped rocks. He made little progress in the dark.
On the other hand, Xanaphia met with a small mushroom-like creature they became fast friends. Stool hit her with his telepathic spores and soon started telling her about his home and how he wants to go there so badly. She didn't promise him anything, but she was careful to be very nice to him and said she'd try to get him home. He rarely left her side after that.
Over the next week, chores were suspended as many of the drow were out raiding and they couldn't be bothered to supervise the slaves without direct orders from the high priestess. Ideal Iados made friends with Jimjar and over a series of bets found himself in possession of a 5 ft length of silk rope. Asheem had his eyes peeled at all times and perhaps it was only through his diligence in his vigilance that he spotted a single gold coin that no one else had seen. The orc had jumped Red Jak about five days into the week, bringing a rusted iron bar to the fight that he had been hiding all this time. It was a quick and brutal fight, but Red Jak emerged the victor with the bar in hand. He hid it before any of the drow noticed. The night after that, he beat the orc down again, leaving him very badly hurt. On the sly, Ideal Iados tried to heal the orc but found his divine magic to be unresponsive. Xanaphia had indicated to Stool that she didn't feel entirely safe here in the pen with all the big brutes around and so he showed here a secret hole in the wall where there was a flint dagger that he had hidden away. For a stumpy little thing, he was somewhat good at not revealing his secrets.
At the end of the week, the drow raiding party had returned with a captive: a Gauntlgrym dwarf. Flint Ironfist was brought into the slave pen and once the drow had walked off, the only other dwarf in the room was on him with hope in her eyes, "You! You're from Gauntlgrym, yeah? Do you know the way home?!"
"Yes," Flint responded.
"Then there's hope... for the first time in I don't know how long... there's hope... for escape!" she said. "Do you have a plan? A way to go?"
"Oh yeah, that's actually the easy part. We just need to go up."
And that's that for this week. As always, reply with comments or questions and I'll answer them.
Cheers.
Obligatory spoiler warning for all events in Out of the Abyss.
Ideal Iados: Cleric of Life 3. A male tiefling with ruddy brown skin, black eyes and black ponytail. His horns are short and his tail is thin, but this man is always grinning. It seems like he's always in on a joke that no one's told yet. He's a priest of Llira, the goddess of joy, but those others in his order can't ever seem to see past his heritage.
Jakrotaj: Paladin of Vengeance 3. Another male tiefling with bright, red skin and a commanding presence. His hair hangs loose about his shoulders and he has a full, black beard. As an officer in the Order of the Gauntlet, he's made a name for himself. Most of the men and women he works with call him Red Jak and he holds the moniker with pride.
Xanaphia Chi: Moon Druid 3. An elven woman with pale skin, silver-white hair, and green eyes. She's quite a bit taller than most other elves and thicker of frame. Her reserved nature has served her well as the keeper of an ancient ruin in a long abandoned forest. Her druidic abilities have kept her from succumbing to the loneliness that befalls many other hermits.
Asheem Kahliel: Eldritch Knight 3. A small Calimshan man with hazel toned skin and short, dark hair. His mannerisms seem to adapt to whichever situation he finds himself in, which has served him well in his years as a Cultist of Orcus. But now, with his brothers wiped out to nearly a man, he's been putting his skills and abilities to the test trying to put his past behind him.
Flint Ironfist: Battlemaster 3. A sturdy dwarven man seemingly carved from the stone itself. Brown skin, brown eyes, closely cropped brown hair, and a braided brown beard. A lifetime of fighting and moving and fighting again, this Gauntlgrym soldier knows more tricks with the maul than many know at all.
This first session was mostly character creation and introductions. We only got so far before calling it a night.
Session 1
The caravan was moving northward for many weeks and the journey was only made easier by the inclusion of the tiefling cleric. Ideal Iados had left the Temple of Llira in Waterdeep against his wishes, but doing anything to countermand the decision would have proved the decision needed. Seeing the conundrum, he decided to turn his sights to the savage frontier in the north and spread the teachings of the goddess of joy, or even just put smiles on the faces of others.
It was during a routine night that he was woken by the screams. He stood up immediately, mace in one hand, shield in the other. And then a bolt pierced his side. He tore it out, healing the wound and looked about in confusion. Then another bolt hit him from the other side. He called out, but no one answered. His comrades were no where to be seen, and the attackers had yet to show themselves. Then a third bolt thudded home in his hip and the poison began it's work. Just as he was passing out, a dark figure emerged from around the wagon and punched Ideal with the pommel of his sword, muttering an exasperated curse in elven, "What's this one even made of?"
Rain thrummed down from the dark sky over the leaking roof of the abandoned roadhouse. Red Jak sat by the window watching the lightning play in the distance. It had been a night much like this one that set him on his path of vengeance. The screams and cries of that night haunted him still, bringing forth the first tendrils of righteous fury. But he calmed himself and got ready to sleep for the night. Just as his chainmail was set aside he heard the smashing of glass from upstairs. Something had wrecked one of the few remaining windows in the building. He took up his sword and shield and a preternatural instinct had him turn and cut down a silent attacker. The black, elven features clued him in to who his attackers were, but he had only a half a second before the next came in from behind. Then another. And another. The paladin was overwhelmed quickly and the poison brought him down without any more drow casualties.
He awoke intermittently on the trail to... wherever he was being taken too. He might have been sold at some point, but he never got too much of a feel for his captors. At one point he chose to punish one that laid a hand on him with a hellish rebuke. The drow took the flames in shock, but the surrounding quaggoths soon beat Red Jak to within an inch of his life. He didn't try the fire trick again.
An incredibly wrathful storm was blowing over the section of forest that housed Xanaphia Chi, but she was well prepared. She had foreseen it the day previous and had stockpiled what supplies she would need in her shelter. An unusual snapping of a branch triggered her own reflexes and she leapt nearly 20 feet straight up into the higher branches of a tree. Down below, the place she had been hunkered down was a sphere of blackness and she watched as three forms charged out of the surrounding brush with their swords slashing wildly at where they thought she was. Unsure of how to handle threatening humanoids, she created the smell of a skunk in the vicinity in an effort to drive them away. It didn't work. They looked around, spotted her, and each began firing small bolts at her. The poison took hold quickly and Xanaphia fell from her vantage point to the mud below.
When she awoke, the drow seemed to be arguing fiercely. One was berating the other for bringing the druid back from death, while the priestess merely watched. The loud one lost the argument as he was disemboweled there on the spot. Xanaphia managed to discern that the Matron Mothers would pay an incredibly high price for such a slave as her. Then they knocked her out again.
The wiry man had been watching them for a few days now. The Order of the Gauntlet's headquarters in Waterdeep was a very well fortified tavern. Asheem had learned through whispers and bribes that these were the men responsible for cutting down the sect of his brothers here in the city. The Waterdhavian Branch of his organization was no where to be found, and his own group in Baldur's Gate was brought down all around him. He was still conflicted as to how he felt about all this, half angry at the loss of his comrades, half relieved that he was free to be his own man once again. As he watched from the rooftop across the street he heard a few quick steps on the tiles behind him. With half a thought his cutlass was in his hand and he swung it around, cutting the drow down with a single swing. Two more appeared from behind cover not 20 feet away. In a moment of pure adrenaline, Asheem ran forward and leapt the side street below, crashing down on the shingles of another rooftop. He made it maybe six feet before he was stuck through with a long, curved sword, the force of the blow knocking him flat on his back. He got a glimpse of the drow's smile before he was shot with the poison bolt and it all faded out.
He was awoken only to eat with the other slaves as they made the long march deep underground. Humans of varying ages and builds circled the small cook fire for their meager rations. One of these many meals, Asheem slipped his manacles and bolted. No thought to where he'd go, or what supplies he'd need, he ran blindly up the tunnel. Three bolts and the combined poison brought him down with a crash. From then on, he was kept away from the others and fed only half rations.
Flint Ironfist was not one of the Emerald Enclave's scouts, but he was a dear friend to their leader in Gauntlgrym: Morista Malkin. On a personal favor, he was accompanying a new troupe in the depths below the dwarven stronghold when they were ambushed. He fought well, slaying a pair of the dark elves, but they had the numbers and the training and soon he was the sole survivor. They had him disarmed, wounded, and bound and then they began questioning him. One of their number spoke enough common to get across their desire for information. His reply was short and terse. They threatened him, and he responded in kind. They knew their poisons would take quite a while to work through his natural resistances, so they opted to beat him into unconsciousness instead. They could use a slave that knew a thing or two about stonework.
Red Jak was the first to arrive at the outpost. His captors had picked him and his gear up during one of the many times he was in a poison slumber. Perhaps they raided his original captors, or perhaps they traded. He didn't know. They brought him up with the lift and he got a glance around the outpost before they threw him in the slave pen with the rest. Around the edges of the room were a collection of slaves of wildly different forms.
From their midst an orc stepped forward and boasted loudly, "Hey, New-Meat, I'm the boss here. You'll be doin' as I say, 'right?"
"Seems to me like they're the bosses, actually," Red Jak responded, gesturing to the drow through the bars of the door.
"I mean, yeah, but I'm the boss in this cave! You better not forget it!"
"We'll see."
The next day, three new slaves were brought into the pen: another tiefling, a human, and an elf. As they entered, the orc tried his bullying routine again, but when he got to the elf, he got flustered and started panicking. He began babbling about how there was no way the drow would let a real elf live this long, that she must be a monster or something. No one seemed to make much sense of it, but then he started swinging. In an instant both of the tieflings were on him and he was dropped to the ground in short order. Xanaphia muttered her thanks and sidestepped the whole situation. Asheem stepped back and began searching the ground for any usefully shaped rocks. He made little progress in the dark.
On the other hand, Xanaphia met with a small mushroom-like creature they became fast friends. Stool hit her with his telepathic spores and soon started telling her about his home and how he wants to go there so badly. She didn't promise him anything, but she was careful to be very nice to him and said she'd try to get him home. He rarely left her side after that.
Over the next week, chores were suspended as many of the drow were out raiding and they couldn't be bothered to supervise the slaves without direct orders from the high priestess. Ideal Iados made friends with Jimjar and over a series of bets found himself in possession of a 5 ft length of silk rope. Asheem had his eyes peeled at all times and perhaps it was only through his diligence in his vigilance that he spotted a single gold coin that no one else had seen. The orc had jumped Red Jak about five days into the week, bringing a rusted iron bar to the fight that he had been hiding all this time. It was a quick and brutal fight, but Red Jak emerged the victor with the bar in hand. He hid it before any of the drow noticed. The night after that, he beat the orc down again, leaving him very badly hurt. On the sly, Ideal Iados tried to heal the orc but found his divine magic to be unresponsive. Xanaphia had indicated to Stool that she didn't feel entirely safe here in the pen with all the big brutes around and so he showed here a secret hole in the wall where there was a flint dagger that he had hidden away. For a stumpy little thing, he was somewhat good at not revealing his secrets.
At the end of the week, the drow raiding party had returned with a captive: a Gauntlgrym dwarf. Flint Ironfist was brought into the slave pen and once the drow had walked off, the only other dwarf in the room was on him with hope in her eyes, "You! You're from Gauntlgrym, yeah? Do you know the way home?!"
"Yes," Flint responded.
"Then there's hope... for the first time in I don't know how long... there's hope... for escape!" she said. "Do you have a plan? A way to go?"
"Oh yeah, that's actually the easy part. We just need to go up."
And that's that for this week. As always, reply with comments or questions and I'll answer them.
Cheers.