[Going to try and write up our exploits after each sunday game, and would appreciate it if only members of "The Adventurers!" group (or Sarah) posted here...and even then try to keep to the form and flow of our epic trek. Also, please forgive any liberties I take with your characters...if anything seems out of line, let me know and I'll immediately correct it.]
Chapter One: Beginnings
We finally came into the encampment in the predawn of the thirteenth and immediately set to securing provisions and setting up base camp. The guardians of the area (calling themselves "The Knights Templar") were kind and helpful enough, though had little time to really inform us of the struggle. The rumors we'd heard of the evil machinations of varying powers appears to be true and have most everyone bustling about, readying defenses and offenses. We secured lodging at the only available establishment, the Golden Griffon Inn, and prepared to make our first cursory jaunt. Abriymoch still has not joined us, though his journey to this frontier was longer than ours, we are not worried.
Shal paused, setting the quill in the inkpot, and stretched her back. The chair she sat in was like all the rest of the Inns, made of rough hewn lumber with nary a cushion to be found. She reread what she had so far and was satisfied. This was just a simple journal of events, nothing more. When she had time at a later date, she would expand on it, putting in the proper flairs and flavors that were her craft.
Thinking of the last line and the absent wizard, she made a mental note to check with Warchief and see if he could do a quick scout west and hopefully pick up a sign of Abriymochs arrival. From what she knew of the archer, the honorary title "Rageshot" and the bizarre haristyle he sported were not the only things he'd picked up from the Northern Uthgardt tribes...the man had shown great skill in the wilds, obviously being trained by some of their best scouts. Still, the chances of finding any sign of the conjurer were slight. "Weird were the ways of wizards" was a quip she'd heard from her master and so far she had to agree. Undoubtadely he would join them soon, appearing from nowhere, ready to cast down their foes with noisy barrages of arcane fire and summoned creatures of peculiar origin, and keep his secrets to himself.
She wrote on, hand transcribing those beginning days and events while her mind relived the details.
The butterflies had been thick in her stomach when she had stepped up to the portal with her friends to begin their first foray. While the Templars were busy defending key areas and facing dire foes, they left the "smaller" stuff to the newcomers not only to save resources and time but also as a testing ground. She didn't resent being seen as an amateur or being tasked with seemingly insignificant tasks, it gave her more time to learn of her fellow adventurers and hone her own battle skills, slight as they were.
From what we'd heard about the outpost, some wily goblin by the name of "Grak" fancied himself a king/chieftain of some sort, and had been claiming more and more territory north of the Outpost. Feeling the threat was slight yet could still present a future problem, it was handed off to us to deal with. Our orders from the commanding Knight, Captain Teril, were simple: Recconoiter the area, eleminate any foes encountered, and if the oppurtunity presented itself; depose the goblin chief.
She snorted at that last line. "If the oppurtunity presented itself". That had been how it was phrased, but the look in Teril's eyes when he gave it had had a challenging glint. She knew what he had really been saying with it; Kill him if you can, if you're good enough. Problem was, before they stepped up on that magical disc that would transport them leagues north in a blink, she didn't know if they WERE good enough. Thankfully the others gave her enough faith to borrow that her knees didn't knock too loudly as they were whooshed away.
That feeling was still fresh in her mind, the lurching pull, the blazing light in ones mind, the reeling afterwards when they landed. And just like that they were there, in the wylds and on the border of the goblin territories. She frowned, remembering the time it took her to get adjusted to the new landscape, the new smells, the cold air. The warriors amongst them were of course already ranging ahead, obviously trained better against the unexpected than herself. While she tried to keep her lunch down Boo was applying that viscous, flaming oil to her slender blades to add to the already considerable damage she could deal, and Rom had readjusted his gear for easy travel, bared blade at his side. Even the cleric Nuli had finished his brief prayer of blessing upon the expedition and was striding ahead before she thought to crank back her crossbow and load a bolt.
Shaking away the last of her embarrassment and looking about the taproom of the Griffon, she made eye contact with the waitress and nodded for a refill. The wine was cheap, in more ways than one, but it was palatable. She thought to buy a round for her companions, but saw that she was alone, the others must have gone up to their rooms. Nuli was most likely in meditation, convening with his God as was his habit, Rom and Boo were probably dicing away with the guards down at the impromptu bank the outpost had, and knowing Warchiefs inclination to wake at dawns first light, he was most likely already asleep. She rubbed a bit of grit out of her eyes, accepted the fresh drink with a murmur of thanks, and proceeded with the writing...she wanted to get it all down before going to her own bed.
We encountered token resistance at first, just a few of the far ranging goblins armed with basic weapons, but soon the swarms began. Whenever 1 was felled by blade, spikes, or quarrel, it seemed 2 rose to take its place. We slogged through at least 50 before quickly dashing to a hidden path that led to a brief reprive. When we met the Farmer hoping for a brief rest and regrouping, we were disappointed to find out that even he was under siege and needed aid. It seemed some rival villain int he area had taken advantage of the goblin incursion and was grabbing at whatever he could lay his hands on in the absence of law. We agreed to help and found our way to the besieged farm.
Grinning, she recalled the triumphs they enjoyed there. At last it felt like some headway was being made, that good was being done, that they weren't running from threats but were facing them down. They thwarted the brutes attempt to lay claim to the farmstead, and finally saw some recompense for their effort. Patting the magical bag at her side, she felt the stirring of pride for her groups success. But of course the following incidents took it away.
She dipped the pen in ink and continued, fingers pinching hard on the quill, hand showing a bit of a tremor.
Grak. He was more than a "mere goblin with a bit of power". Before we'd even really began, that one goblin almost finished us for good. After the farm, the brute, and a bloody struggle with invading kobolds, we went east to find the hidden way to Graks inner chamber that Nuli claimed had been sent to him in a vision.
That Nuli forgot to include the 895 Hobgoblins blocking the way to said door, she thought it best not to mention. Her left shoulder still hurt from the blade that had run her through there. Shrugging it a bit, she went on.
It was a hard fought victory, many times we fell, and if it hadn't been for the whirling blades of Boo, the stoic stands of Rom, the flashing arrows of Warchief, or the faith and force of Nuli we would have never succeeded. We entered the chamber, thinking we had the advantage of surprise and numbers. We didn't have either. The goblin was ready for us, and using magic, minions, and murderous malice he felled us to a man save one. Without the stealthy skills of Rom it would have been another long arduous trek to the chamber, but as it was we availed ourselves of magic and transported to where the warrior had hidden himself. We tried again, and finally succeeded though at a cost. We feared that a couple of our friends were lost forever to us, minds destroyed by the wicked goblins enchanted throne. Boo almost didn't recover, stumbling about in confusion, ignoring our aid. Many hours passed before the effects wore off, to our great relief, and we could make our withdrawal and our report to Captain Teril.
Wiping the pen nib off, she placed it in her writing box and waited for the last of the ink to dry. For now she was finished though much more had transpired. The epic travel through dark halls and underground gravesights, putrid zombies and vile skeletons, and another showdown with the commander of the viscious orcs all had to be recorded. But that could wait. She drained her glass dry, packed away the journal, and made her way upstairs while humming and murmuring a new tune she was working on.
"I'm so confused...hmm hmmmm hmmm....I'm sooooo confused...."
Mon Jun 14 2010, 11:47