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Topic: Scourge of the Black Claw (Read 404 times) |
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Sleet
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It is a dark night, the sickle moon hiding behind clouds now. Sleet pulls on the oars of the small boat as a trickle of sweat mixed with blood runs down over an eyebrow. A brief respite to wipe it away and the rogue takes a few swallows of wine from a bottle 'found' in the smugglers cave. The twinkling lights of the town are far off still.
"Well my friends," he puffs out as he begins to row again, "whoosh. I think we will need to unload all this equipment, and then see the Mayor. The house they thought haunted holds bigger mysteries AND dangers to their fair town.. what say ye?"
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Lord_Of_Games
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The barbarian looked down at the small man standing in front of the door and shook his head. His hand went instinctively to the hilt of his giant sword strapped to his back but something held the natural impulse to withdraw it and split the guard and the door in two. He had been told that there was someone looking for hired swords and he was planning to get some of that gold. This was not the Northern Wastes – and if he wanted to earn enough gold in this small town, to purchase supplies, he would have to put his instincts in check.
“I heard that the Warlord of this village is seeking swords and that he has asked them to meet here,” he explained to the guard. “Now stand aside so I might share a tankard with him and discuss arrangements”.
“Welcome to Portsmouth!” the guard barked. “You will find that there are a number of you mercenaries already gathered in the great hall”.
He stood aside as he pushed the door open, allowing the barbarian to enter.
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Sleet
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Sleet rips a piece of cloth from one of the many silk bundles found in the hold. Binding a gash in his arm, he looks about.
The steady roll of the Sea Ghost is a welcome change to him. Thinking back to his earlier life on the sea brings a slight smile to his lips even under the dire circumstances the group are in.
"Well comrades, we have done well." He finishes the bandage and lifts the large pack stuffed full of booty. "There is still more to explore, and me thinks the three lizardmen we encountered were not here just for the fine smuggler stew. Their chest full of gold is of interest.. perhaps a new ally to the smugglers?" He finishes with a wink.
Sleet lights up his pipe, breathing a large puff of smoke. He ruffles the ears of the large black hound at his side Styxx, murmuring, "Good lad! Them buccaneers never knew what hit'em."
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Sleet
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Sleet looks to his friends as they barter with the merchants.
"We will need supply kits me thinks this time friends. I am unsure how far and long we may be out in the wilds..." The rogue purchases two of the bukly kits including a bedroll, food and kindling for a fire.
"I think it be time to visit the armoury, I could use some more arrows. We could ALSO use a another sword or two in this group.. a healer or spellcaster would be a great boon."
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Lord_Of_Games
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I write to you again Devar as I spoke too soon about the honor of these southern provinces. They too have those that are swallowed up in the pursuit of greed. The warlord that hired our band seems to have his own agenda as well. We will be watching him carefully.
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Lord_Of_Games
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We have progressed further Devar..much further. Apparently lizardmen in the swamps north of here have been stockpiling weapons and this has the village concerned. The warlord again promised gold so we were quick to accept - perhaps too quick but I need the funds to finish the errand I have been sent on. We were greeted by snakes when we finally reached the Lizardmen's warren. We slew them and then the lizardmen came. We pushed them back - cut them down but still more came. And when the screaming and hissing stopped we were covered in gore, hunks of lizardmen covering the floor and walls - the stench of smoldering serpents heavy in the air. We could see him now, through the smoke - the Chieftain brandishing a trident growled into the air, his glowing red eyes hinting at ancient knowledge and witness to terrible sacrifices to their evil god S. This was it then. Gripping our weapons tighter we approached the throne. I fell in battle twice and was brought back by quick healing applications. We slew the beast and stripped him of his gear. I fear though that this chieftain may not be the one controlling the lizardmen. Something tells me other nefarious forces may be guiding them. We head back into the caves in the morning.
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xanofere
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Fires blazed in a staggered line across the well traversed road that eventually led to Waterdeep. Admist the burning and broken remains of the caravan's wagons and the corpses of horse, ox, and humanoid (it is hard to discern of which specific race at this point), approximately a dozen large, rotund, and overly scruffy brutes rustle about for scraps of interest.
A fat, beefy arm of one brute is raised high in the air. For a brief fraction of a second the sun glares off of the only unblemished spot on a rather large hatchet held aloft. The axe descends downward with abrupt savage force. A shatted corpse convules. The fat, beefy arm with its weapon of choice is raised once more, this time it is joined by its twin, which has in its grasp a bloody, tanned and slender feminine arm devoid of its adjoining body. The two fat, beefy arms pump into the air several times as the brute opens its wide, gap toothed maw to bellow the wail of a hungry and excited conquerer. During the barbaric display, an intricate silver bracelet is jostled off the wrist of the newly prized slender arm to bounce thrice, and finally find rest on the ground behind the brute unseen and unheard.
Had the bracelet been discovered, the uncleanly brute may have noticed that the bracelet was silver inlaid with platinum throughout, though it is doubtful it would even know to recognize that fact. But what would be quite obvious was that it held three pairs of very shiny reflective stones (diamond, ruby, and saphire), each in the place of eyes for the three chimera-like heads that wound around the bracelet's entirety.
A gut renching "NO! Motherrrrrr!" reverberated and echoed throughout the dead silence of the tiny and otherwise rank, dark cell. Bolting upright from the cold, unforgiving ground Xeq'iir Skyebound attempted to brace himself against the even colder, irregularly cut stone wall of his cell. Steam rose off his sweat drenched, dirt smeared robe as he tried to stop his body from shaking. It was the same plaguing nightmare from his youth that Xeq'iir had wrestled with during every occurrence of slumber since he was uncerimoniously dumped by the lizard people into the dank and dreary prison ...
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| « Last Edit: on: Jun 26, 2006, 11:30PM » |
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Zanthyr
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Sitting himself down on a grassy gnoll overlooking a small, emerald green colored lake, Zanthyr Ardruin has time for a moments' reflection. Has he just contributed to the destruction of an entire clan of Lizardmen? Looking ruefully at his trusty katana, slightly notched and still bloody from the many Lizardmen he has fallen, he thinks back to the time he was taken away from his adopted family, to sanctuary from the very people bent on destroying his own people. Has he become like them? Retrieving a symbol of his god, Meilikki, he rubs it with fingers strained from gripping his sword during the slaughter. He vows to himself and his god that he will do whatever it take to redeem himself. Perhaps the recent event, meeting the Druid Callus, will set him on a better path. Sheathing his now clean sword, he thinks forward to the potential of a meeting with the Sahaguin, the very creatures whom Callus and his Lizardmen friends had allied themselves against. Callus has judged Zanthyr and his friends, based on what he believes is righteous and yet he himself is set against the Sahaguin. Who will be there to judge Callus if the Sahaguin are eliminated? Many questions and too few answers. Hopefully in the coming days things will become clearer to all. One question lingers: what are Callus's true intentions and is he simply going to use the group to do his work for him, and keep his hands clean...
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Lord_Of_Games
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Dammit Devar! Upon returning to the lizard caves we were intercepted by a Druid that told us that we had killed a peaceful society of Lizardmen that were merely stock piling weapons to protect themselves from the evil Sahaguin. If true then we are no better than those that prey on the defenceless. Had the Druid just explained to us what the situation was we may have listened to him more but he went on and on and on about how we disgusted him and that we should feel so bad. Truth be told though I did like the feel of my blade slicing through their scaled torsos - and that scale cracking sound, like breaking bark from a tree. If you ever come across someone called Hollis and he starts to whine - better to slay him on the spot because he won't relent.
We managed to delve deeper into the caves but found all of the lizardmen gone. We managed to rescue a man that the lizardmen help captive in a cell. To the Druid this was apparently fair and went on an on about how people should answer questions else this is the result. I should have slayed him there but instead held my blade – I am sure we will meet again.
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Sleet
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As the group leaves the house of the Old man, Sleet looks about. "Well lads, off to town to update the Mayor. Perhaps he has information leading to these sahuagin. After the recent news and all about the seemingly peaceful lizard folk, perhaps we should follow up on this."
The rogue sighs. "I am learning a few words of the lizard tongue, perhaps that may be useful as well. Now. Off to town, m'back be sore m'throat parched. A few rounds of dwarven ale with a serving wench a smilin' be the next course!"
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Sleet
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"Tough battles." Sleet spits some blood. "Well mates, how be ye all doing? I think we need a week in an ale-house and some fine company AND a comfy bed - would do me wonders." The Rogue grins.
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xanofere
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Father ... I can only hope that you will forgive me in my failure to fully avenge mother's and (indirectly) your passing.
I have often asked myself if you would have approved of my acceptance of Aunt Seraphina's invitation to stay in Silverymoon for a time and tend with her to the shrine of the Rider of the Winds. I always knew that you were greatly saddened when I also followed mother's path, which ultimately lead to her demise, and answered the call of Shaundakul. But, as the saying goes, it would be ill fortune to ignore the voice of a god. He of the Helping Hand spoke and I piously obeyed.
I want you to understand that I was never happier than when I entered Shaundakul's service and began feeling the wind at my back as I ventured into the unknown in his name. I must be honest, however, there are moments when I am almost happier, which at the same time also bring me shame to admit. The moments I allude to are the times that I relish the feel of pulling out my sword from the corpse of every ogre that crosses my path. Each ogre's death brings both relief and sorrow; relief that I am preventing the spread of vileness by such brutes, and sorrow from the pain we both must share from the void of mother's absence.
Foot steps are approaching the door of my cell. I suspect the feathered lizardman is back to either barrage me once again with questions or taunt me, which it is I do not know for I do not understand its tongue. We will talk again ... Father.
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| « Last Edit: on: Jul 10, 2006, 4:46AM » |
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Lord_Of_Games
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I agree, Sleet. It is time we left these foul lands and return to the warlord for payment. My pack is heavy with spoils and I look forward to exchanging its contents for gold, women and drink. When we get there I was hoping you could ask around and see who could craft me some armor to replace this battered chainmail.
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xanofere
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Father ... the feathered-up lizardman, who I figure to be either the chief or shaman of this lizardman tribe, has finally left after much hissing and sputtering. Strangely enough it (I use the term "it" because I cannot honestly say if it is a "she" or "he" ) has left me unharmed during its tirade. Perhaps they intend to eat me or offer me to their scaled god at the height of some cermony. I certainly am not well connected enough to be any use for ransom, but I suppose they are unaware of this. And yet, for some reason I do not feel concerned. I get the impression that the lizardmen want something from me (assistance perhaps), but I just cannot put my finger on it.
During this most recent episode I have started to harbour second thoughts (perhaps god-inspired) about my thirst for revenge against all ogrekind. Reflection upon my actions has produced a welling of saddeness within me; perhaps like these lizardmen, who - while strange and savage in appearance - have performed no overt evil action to my person, there are ogres who behave contrary the common stereotype. I fear that my perceptions have been overly clouded by the deaths of you and mother, and yet I am torn. Without the unredeemable actions of the ogre few mother would not have been murdered, and you would not have sunken to the deepest and darkest pits of depression to abandoned there all senses possesed by the living. However, mayhaps just like "man" any other humanoid race has those who are good and those who are not.
I am getting a sense that He of the Helping Hand is trying to tell me something of myself by sending me upon the path which had led to my present predicament. I realize now that I could not have aided those in need when I myself have been in need of assistance.
From this day forth, wherever the Rider of the Winds may send me I vow to delay making judgement on others unless their own actions betray themselves unto me.
Praise be to Shaundakul, for I shall become a better man under his caring watch ...
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| « Last Edit: on: Jul 16, 2006, 4:47PM » |
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Sleet
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Fairly intoxicated, Sleet looks around blearily. "Aww righ laddshes, we had som'tin else ta do dishn't we?"
Waving one hand around in the air he nearly falls out of his chair. Reaching for his nearly empty pint glass fortunately balances him and he stays unsteadily in his chair.
"The mayor! Dash't right! We goshta see da mayor."
The rogue blurts out. Leaning back he starts to snore.
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xanofere
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Father ... Can you believe that I am presently sitting beside a roaring camp fire beneath the stars? I can hardly believe it myself.
Not a day ago I was woken by noises outside my cell door that were not at all "regular". For starters it was to early (as far as it felt, for one loses the sense of time when being held captive in the bowels of the earth) for another visit from my hosts. Also, I heard the scuffling of footware, which is not part of the typical lizard men ensemble. I prayed with all my might that this wasn't a delusional by-product of my half-starved state.
When the door rattled open I was delerious with relief as standing there before me were not lizardmen, but actual men! True enough my rescuers helped my out of my cell and reunited me with my gear. A quick scouting of the immediate area determined that these brave and capable adventurers had routed out my former captors. Shandakul forgive me, but I have never been so elated to exit a cave in all my life ...
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| « Last Edit: on: Jul 20, 2006, 9:50PM » |
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