D&D Adventure #4: The Art of the Cudgel

[Dog Pants]

I'm up for it. There are GW2 plans afoot, but this is a rarer opportunity and we can play GW2 on Saturday if need be.

[Roman Totale]

What time are we starting? Seemed to take quite a long time to get rolling the first night.

[Grimmie]

</hiatus>

Come on then, when are you guys free next?

[Dog Pants]

Whenever you want me baby. Saturday nights are alright for fighting fantasy, but I can make room.

[Grimmie]

Taking some stuff from my source document..

The story so far...
It has been a whole week since the mayhem that followed Stephen Pyn's hanging.

The librarian's scholars are still studying the corpse of Desmond, but have positively identified the creature as a Quasit. The town guard have been unable to find any signals that he was summoned to Orhedge anywhere within the town limits, but they are looking in to those who may have a vendetta against the town militia to see if any of them would be capable of calling such a creature to the material plane.

Emma Pyn has sent a personal letter of thanks to "Captain Glibberig" at Red Beer expressing her gratitute for your party's quick acting and resolution to the town guard's imcompetance. She explains that she plans to go and live with her cousin for a while until she's ready to move on, and that the money will help her find a house in a new town that isn't clouded with such bad memories.

After helping your party out with examining Stephen Pyn's copy of Pelor's holy teachings, the Sun Scripts, the wizard Thoroar appears to have vanished without trace. His board at The Iron Man appears to be fully paid, and his horse is no longer in the stables.

The time is about 7am.
Forenrond wakes up with a start by the sound of a ringing bell. Leaning through the doorway of the church's bunk room is a figure in Billet's vestments and a wide-brimmed hat. He wanders over, placing the bell down on the wily rogue's bed-side table.

"Rise and shine, Shankley. It's time to prove to us you're a better person than when you came here. It's time for your final atonement in the eyes of our wise justicar."

Character Profile: Billet Errol Gleamer
Errol is a slight Half-Elf man with slicked-back blonde hair and violet eyes. He's a young, vibrant cleric of St. Cuthbert and spends most of his time training young groups of paladins in the art of combat. Errol was born and raised in the city of Siriath, north of Orhedge, which has a moderately sized temple to the Saint.

"I've been sent by the Chapeaux at Siriath to assist you on your final task for the church, Shankley. Prove to us that you're more than just a petty thief and we'll consider your debt repaid. Breakfast's served in thirty minutes, and I'll be giving a briefing after we've eaten. In the meantime I suggest that you round up your rag-tag group of demon-hunters and convince them to help you out, as you'll be needing a little assistance with this."

Forenrond will recognise that Siriath is the city he was in when he was caught by the church for stealing. The alternative to repaying this debt is a sentence sentence in the city keep's famously impenetrable prison.

For a free breakfast, the church puts on a surprisingly good spread; cooked meat, scrambled eggs, fresh toasted slices of farmhouse bread and plenty of carrot juice straight from the start of the autumn harvest. The meal is taken in the church's kitchens around a broad square table, a few priests join in, along with Chapeaux Fitzroy. Errol has excused himself to pray for his spells, as he's already eaten.

Conversation is light and casual, and any mention of the task ahead is brushed aside till after food. Everybody is fed, and Orovan is even provided with a set of wooden cutlery. A short break is had by all, and at about 8:00am Errol begins his briefing from infront of the Altar.

"A very good morning to you all. I trust you're appropriately fed for the day's activities? Good."

- He doesn't wait for a response –

"I'll keep this plain and simple. I spend most of my time training students of the church in hand-to-hand combat in order to carry out the will of our Saint. A situation has arisen in which I would normally call on a group of my students for help, but instead I have been asked to travel for two days to this little town of yours to chaperone a miscreant and his friends, in the hope that they will be as skilled and dedicated as my students."

- he corrects himself with a shake of the head, clutching his eyes.

One of the priests attending to the font in the corner of the room turns around, a little pale. It's clear that they don't hear such outbursts within the church's walls that often.

"I apologise. It's been a testing journey. We have had reports that members of our buried congregation are rising and wandering about the barrow lands near Lochfield Dam. It is our responsibility to cleanse the site of undead and dispose of the corpses permanently. The cause of this rise will be explored by members of the church's Stars once we are finished."

"Any questions?"

[Grimmie]

The wagon is a surprisingly long affair, with an articulated two-wheeled cab drawing a four-wheeled covered wagon. There are two benches facing one another for people to sit on, and the rest of the room is taken up by a set of canvas tents, food, and a few boxes of short-swords, light-maces and light wooden shields. It's possibly what Errol uses to train his young paladins. An old, hunched and wart-ridden dwarf who appears to be the wagon's driver waits by the two oxen at its head, feeding them out of a leather pouch.

Character Profile: Old Bill Brassknuckles
The old, disheveled dwarf driver, despite appearances, is actually rather personable, and will happily listen to any ramblings the players have for hours on end. He finds them much better company than the "Stuffy religious bloke" was, and is glad for the chatter. He particularly likes bardic tales and illusionary magic. He seems particularly fond of Camilla, Orovan's Camel.

The ride is mainly uneventful, Errol is mostly quiet and studies books for "Entertainment", preferring not to be interrupted. He appears particularly irate that there's a bard on board, and asks politely that there are no lengthy songs for the duration of the journey.

There are lots of lengthy songs.

[Grimmie]

Just as the sun has begun to set and the night-time section of the party's journey begins, the group spot something in the distance.

A merchant on her travels between Siriath and Springdell crossing is stranded a mile off the road on the plains. There are deep, panicked hoof-prints that lead off towards the wagon, which is just about visible on the grassy, undulating plains, bathed in a red-orange light. It doesn't appear to have a mount attached to it any longer. There are a couple of figures standing atop the wagon, and one appears to be flagging for attention.

Upon closer inspection it's a homely looking human woman with red hair in a white, belted gown. Crouching on the side of the wagon's canvas top is a small brown-haired boy. The front of the wagon has a drooping iron bar that supports an orange fishbowl with Light cast upon it, giving the area an unusual glow.

Character Profiles: Alysia and Elliot Hart
Alysia Hart is a single mother who travels around the local area trading in magic supplies. She managed to get her foot in the door of the business by trading her grandfather's sword, Truestrike, with an adventurer in return for his latest crop of dungeon loot. She prefers wondrous items and potions to scrolls and wands, as she can't experiment with them on long journeys. Elliot's father came from a night of passion spent at the village of Arrow, he aspires to be a magician one day, and is fascinated by any sort of magical device.

Elliot has been playing with a Grey Bag of Tricks™, which usually produces fuzzy little animal friends when used. Unfortunately he's happened upon a cursed one in his mum's barrel of bags, and as it's opened a whole group of aggressive, feral beasties pour out. Badgers, weasels, rats and cats. They've been stuck on the roof for three hours trying to fend them off.

The group work together, scooping some of the animals back in to the bag, killing the others (I think? Correct me if I'm wrong.)

Victorious, Alysia gladly rewards the party with a functioning Bag of Tricks and some spare bottles of stuff she has laying around. Glibberig offers to take the broken Bag of Tricks off her hands too, which she happily accepts.

Alysia pulls out a Feather Token (keen eyed readers will remember one of these as loot in Green Shell Suit) which she uses like a little telegram - speaking in to it to ask the nearest stables for a new carthorse. The token splits in two and flutters away in to the distance, back towards Springdell Crossing.

[Grimmie]

I have the map and crap like that all ready for the next stage, and the stats worked out (I think?) but none of the fluff that I usually adorn it with. I think I'm just gonna try winging it as best as possible. Hope you guys aren't too peeved it's taken since Oct/Nov to get this thing rolling again.

[Dog Pants]

Hooray!

[Roman Totale]

I've got a Grey Bag of Tricks here
I'm going to put it in my......pocket, obviously.

And if you think about it a pocket is like a little bag but attached to your trousers on the inside. I once adventured with a fellow who possessed a bottomless purse; you could keep putting things in there and it would never get full. Well, he decided that rather than have it as a bag he'd turn it into a pocket. Using some magic thread he sewed it into his finest pair of silk pantaloons.

Alas, tragedy struck. One day whilst rummaging for his keys he realised he couldn't find them. Deeper and deeper he rummaged - first up to his elbow, then his shoulder, and even until he was waist deep in his own pocket. The poor fool, he didn't stop until he'd disappeared completely inside of his own trousers. I found them lying forlornly outside the still locked door of his house, and he was never seen again.

True, some say that it was actually the house of a rich and powerful merchant, and that said merchant returned home one day to discover my friend exploring the pocket of the merchant's wife, but you know what? Some people come up with any old rubbish.


Errol! Errol! How big are your pockets? Do you think you could fit a cat inside one?

[Grimmie]

I love Glibberig, oh man.

[FatherJack]

Is this forum or Skype now? I can't make this Saturday if the latter.

[Grimmie]

Skype methinks. Or we can give Google Hangouts a try?

[Grimmie]

Tonight? Tomorrow?

[Dog Pants]

Rather tomorrow than tonight, I only get 5punkygames once a week, on friday, but I'll make an exception if tonight is better. I do want to play.

[FatherJack]

Hopefully be able to do tomorrow, might have to move the aircon in here though - sitting at a PC (well, my PC) in this weather isn't too comfortable.

I should be getting a better mic sometime next week though - I don't know it will be better and it's actually a bluetooth thing for my phone, but it has some fancy noise-cancelling stuff in it and picks up your voice from a sensor that touches you in a special place, because my PC's fans are screaming like the dickens at the moment and I'm not sure I can out-shout them.

[Grimmie]

Tonight at 9/10 then?

[Dog Pants]

Works for me.

[shot2bits]

Sorry guys i had a ninja festival with the missus last weekend, meant to leave a message saying Saturday nights are going to be the worst for me as i wont be getting back from work till gone 11-11:30, but i have every Friday off so if we can fit it around frigames that would be ideal for me, or i can do every other Sunday.

I guess if its gonna be too much hassle getting us all on at the same time because of it ill take a step back and let you guys get on with it though so just let me know.

[FatherJack]

I'm out again next Saturday, but in on Friday.