Behold! 'tis Herr Otto Bahn and his Extraordinary Steam Powered Battle Conveyance.
Ach Himmel!
Star Frontiers
13 hours ago
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Bonus mechanical marvel!
Behold! 'tis Herr Otto Bahn and his Extraordinary Steam Powered Battle Conveyance.
Ach Himmel!
Rat Bastids
Here's a buncha skaven types, a couple of rat ogres and a nasty little trio I like to call the rattish inquisition.
Lookit' em skitter!
They ain't scared of no carving knife.
Get back here, you cowards!
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Oh, and by the way.
I should make note, being as this is a gaming type blog about gaming type stuff, that this past Friday I had a marvelous session of old school D&D at my buddy DH's. He was running Moldvay/Cook red box/blue box style, and it was a lotta fun. Delta came up from NYC and a grand time was had by all.
I started play as Nosnoj the Magic Man (try to understand, he is a magic man!), armed with a magic +1 dagger and a handful of random rolled, non damaging spells, and clad in slacks, sandals, and the finest knee length turtleneck sweater with elbow and shoulder pads. Then when said stalwart fell to a punch in the neck from a zombie, I switched to playing Freddie "The Bastard" Fraggatelli, a local tough the party had press ganged when busting up a ring of slavers.
This led me to an interesting lesson about play of the game. This was the second time I've had a character die on me, and be replaced by a character I enjoyed playing even more. Those of you readers who were part of my old Thursday night group remember the untimely and sudden death of my brownie character known as "The Ferret", who was replaced by the legendary Zzapokk the Lizard Man, who in all my years of gaming is still my favoritest character I ever played. The lesson: lighten up about your character getting croaked. It's usually an opportunity to run with something even more fun. Fortune favors the bold!
Anyway, thanks a bunch, DH for a great session, and I tip my hat to my fellow players as well. Nary a dud at the table, which is what really makes a session shine. I would play with all of you guys again if given the chance.
I started play as Nosnoj the Magic Man (try to understand, he is a magic man!), armed with a magic +1 dagger and a handful of random rolled, non damaging spells, and clad in slacks, sandals, and the finest knee length turtleneck sweater with elbow and shoulder pads. Then when said stalwart fell to a punch in the neck from a zombie, I switched to playing Freddie "The Bastard" Fraggatelli, a local tough the party had press ganged when busting up a ring of slavers.
This led me to an interesting lesson about play of the game. This was the second time I've had a character die on me, and be replaced by a character I enjoyed playing even more. Those of you readers who were part of my old Thursday night group remember the untimely and sudden death of my brownie character known as "The Ferret", who was replaced by the legendary Zzapokk the Lizard Man, who in all my years of gaming is still my favoritest character I ever played. The lesson: lighten up about your character getting croaked. It's usually an opportunity to run with something even more fun. Fortune favors the bold!
Anyway, thanks a bunch, DH for a great session, and I tip my hat to my fellow players as well. Nary a dud at the table, which is what really makes a session shine. I would play with all of you guys again if given the chance.
Session 11, Analysis
Whoo. Good to be back.
I was kind of reluctant about this session, I'm still kind of putting in long hours at work and feeling the effects of that, and I'm still dealing with attendance issues for this whole sandbox experiment, so I was seriously considering bagging it, but I forged ahead, and was really glad I did because this was a real rip snortin' session.
One humorous note I should add is that two of my players had come directly from some sort of historical reenactment event, and were dressed in Colonial garb for ye olde gaming session, which was a hoot.
I think the fact that everybody was mounted did a lot for this session. As in real life, horses are a real force multiplier, and so their battles with the worgs went a lot better. It also really helped with travelling across the map, as they went twice as fast, reducing a lot of the chance of random encounters. (Not completely though, as the hobgoblin ambush will attest.)
I think I was a little testy at times in this session, and for that I apologise to any of my players. I say this as a lead off to a couple of things I found slightly frustrating, which was mainly a tendency for the players to look at me to direct them, especially when the Road Wardens from the Fort came into play.
I know that as generally law abiding, modern day citizens, folks have a tendency to want to defer to authority. It kind of left me in a weird position. I wanted to give them the guard detachment to help bolster their numbers and give them some confidence, but I didn't want to call the shots. I had to explain to them that they were running the show, and that I would not throw in any opinions about what they would do unless absolutely necessary.
Also, at the start of the session I kind of sensed there was this expectation that if they just reported the location of the goblin base, the Fort would take action against the monsters. That's not how it works. Dungeons are for players. You can't just tip off the cops and let them sort it out. In the game world, the Fort is at it's utmost patrolling the road and guarding the small swath of farmland around it's borders. They don't have the guys to spare to put down monsters in the wilderness. That's the adventurers' job.
I think this is somewhat an artifact of the difference between Sandbox format and normal, narrative format. So to reiterate to my players: I am not going to tell you what to do. I will only dangle hooks and it is up to you to decide whether to follow them. You guys are well appraised of most of my initial rumor table, and have a wealth of things that you can go and do. Go do them!
I'm also noticing a tendency for my players to over think things, and to be very cautious about where they go and what they do. I know you want to be prudent and considered in your approach, especially at low levels, but there is a time where when you know where the goblins live, you go and kick their scrawny little asses.
One notion that I'd like to disabuse the players of is that south of the highway is "above their pay grade". I think you are assuming too much there without trying it and seeing.
In my mind, the proper response for adventurers when hearing "Beware of the terrible peat bogs to the South." should be "Huh... I wonder what the big deal is." not "Whoa, thanks for the warning, I sure won't go there."
I dunno, I'm probably getting too cranky here, and I don't mean to give offense to my players. Just take this with a grain of salt and good humor. And cowboy up and go kill some freakin' monsters already!
Oh yeah, one more thing, if I haven't alienated any of my few regular players by the above rant. I'm gonna be setting the quorum for a game at three. Two players just ain't enough for me to feel motivated about, so be advised that if only two sign ups are present by Saturday afternoon, the session is going to be called off.
I was kind of reluctant about this session, I'm still kind of putting in long hours at work and feeling the effects of that, and I'm still dealing with attendance issues for this whole sandbox experiment, so I was seriously considering bagging it, but I forged ahead, and was really glad I did because this was a real rip snortin' session.
One humorous note I should add is that two of my players had come directly from some sort of historical reenactment event, and were dressed in Colonial garb for ye olde gaming session, which was a hoot.
I think the fact that everybody was mounted did a lot for this session. As in real life, horses are a real force multiplier, and so their battles with the worgs went a lot better. It also really helped with travelling across the map, as they went twice as fast, reducing a lot of the chance of random encounters. (Not completely though, as the hobgoblin ambush will attest.)
I think I was a little testy at times in this session, and for that I apologise to any of my players. I say this as a lead off to a couple of things I found slightly frustrating, which was mainly a tendency for the players to look at me to direct them, especially when the Road Wardens from the Fort came into play.
I know that as generally law abiding, modern day citizens, folks have a tendency to want to defer to authority. It kind of left me in a weird position. I wanted to give them the guard detachment to help bolster their numbers and give them some confidence, but I didn't want to call the shots. I had to explain to them that they were running the show, and that I would not throw in any opinions about what they would do unless absolutely necessary.
Also, at the start of the session I kind of sensed there was this expectation that if they just reported the location of the goblin base, the Fort would take action against the monsters. That's not how it works. Dungeons are for players. You can't just tip off the cops and let them sort it out. In the game world, the Fort is at it's utmost patrolling the road and guarding the small swath of farmland around it's borders. They don't have the guys to spare to put down monsters in the wilderness. That's the adventurers' job.
I think this is somewhat an artifact of the difference between Sandbox format and normal, narrative format. So to reiterate to my players: I am not going to tell you what to do. I will only dangle hooks and it is up to you to decide whether to follow them. You guys are well appraised of most of my initial rumor table, and have a wealth of things that you can go and do. Go do them!
I'm also noticing a tendency for my players to over think things, and to be very cautious about where they go and what they do. I know you want to be prudent and considered in your approach, especially at low levels, but there is a time where when you know where the goblins live, you go and kick their scrawny little asses.
One notion that I'd like to disabuse the players of is that south of the highway is "above their pay grade". I think you are assuming too much there without trying it and seeing.
In my mind, the proper response for adventurers when hearing "Beware of the terrible peat bogs to the South." should be "Huh... I wonder what the big deal is." not "Whoa, thanks for the warning, I sure won't go there."
I dunno, I'm probably getting too cranky here, and I don't mean to give offense to my players. Just take this with a grain of salt and good humor. And cowboy up and go kill some freakin' monsters already!
Oh yeah, one more thing, if I haven't alienated any of my few regular players by the above rant. I'm gonna be setting the quorum for a game at three. Two players just ain't enough for me to feel motivated about, so be advised that if only two sign ups are present by Saturday afternoon, the session is going to be called off.
Session 11, July 18, 2009
So Sallum and Safira, the brother and sister team of mounted warriors returned to Millford with the halfling sorceror Deriadan Redkettle. The siblings had recently been working with their mounts to get them more accustomed to combat, and were seeking to press on in their battle against the goblin raiders who had been plaguing the farmlands to the North East. They had taken part in the burning of the Rag Tree, where the goblins had been lairing, and were now back to see what effect their victory had had on the vile creature's movements.
When they arrived in Millford, they found the village on high alert, for the raids had increased in violence and severity. Knowing that Millford was a way point for the road patrols from Fort Standish, they sought out the Sergeant and spoke to him. They found him in the tavern, in council with a group of his riders, and were invited to sit and tell what they knew. When it became known that they were aware of the location of the goblins' forward camp, it was decided that they would lead a detachment of riders there to scout and perhaps strike another blow at the raiders.
The following morning, brother and sister and halfling, and eight fighting men armed with crossbow and battle axe and armored with chainmail, set out on horseback towards the site of the Rag Tree. Their mounts bore them swiftly across the grasslands, and soon they were in sight of the tree, now black and skeletal since it had been burned, and eerily silent, save for the distant croaking of ravens in the forest.
When they approached, they saw that a crude screen of lashed branches had been laid over the cave entrance tucked among the roots of the tree as a sort of blind. It was short work for a couple of the men to lay this aside, and they stood looking down into an inclined tunnel leading into the darkness. Redkettle took out his lantern and lit it, and they hobbled their horses and went down, with Sallum and Carruthers, one of the horsemen, and Safira and Redkettle in the lead.
When they reached the bottom of the incline, suddenly the earth gave way beneath their feet, and the adventurers found themselves in a painful tangle of limbs at the bottom of a twenty foot deep pit. Above them, they heard the hooting and jabbering of goblins, as a tower shield cut with arrow slits was hastily rolled into place at the lip of the pit to the East. A hail of black, pitch dipped crossbow bolts flew and struck down the two road wardens standing at the lip of the pit trap, before the remaining warriors unlimbered their crossbows and returned fire.
At the bottom of the pit, the four looked up to see the crossfire of quarrels, and set about climbing up out of the pit. Mercifully the pit was rather square in dimension, so it was a simple matter for Sallum to brace against the corners and use roots to climb up. He hastily tied a rope to a root and tossed it down, perhaps too hastily, as it looked like it would slip loose if pulled too hard. Safira decided to rely on her own strength to climb out, and was just over the lip of the pit in the corridor to the west, across from the tower shield, when she heard an alarming pattering of clawed feet and a fierce chittering. A swarm of dire rats, hideous beasts as large as herding dogs, had come from the depths of the tunnel, ravenous for fresh meat. The siblings were set upon by the beasts, and suffed horrible bites, as at their backs another warden fell to a goblin quarrel.
Redkettle then managed to get himself up to the lip of the pit with the wardens, and turns to cast a spell to aid Sallum and Safira. A burst of colors caused a few of the rats to fall dazed, but not enough, and one bit Sallum so gravely that he passed out. The halfling followed up with a missile of magical energy, slaying one of the rats that Safira had wounded, and giving her enough opportunity to grab her unconscious brother and leap the corner of the pit to the upward ramp. Carruthers climbed up from the pit, and the group decided to beat a retreat, with Redkettle tossing a vial of alchemist's fire at the tower shield to cover them. They hurried up the incline, dragging their wounded as the goblins hooted and banged the butts of their crossbows against the planks of their tower shield.
The group ran a short distance and then spent time binding their companion's wounds, making sure that none of them would bleed out. They were grateful that it was still day, as the goblins would not venture from their lair as long as the sun shone. Seeking to get more reconnaissance before they hied back to Millford, Safira and Redkettle and a couple of the wardens rode a circuit around the tree, searching for hidden escape tunnels or secret doors, which they fail to discover. As the daylight began to wane, they propped the wounded up on their horses and rode back to the village. On the way they nearly disturbed a grizzly bear over a kill, but gave the beast a wide berth, and avoided provoking it further.
Back in Millford, they settle in at the inn for a few days rest and receuperation. The siblings are stricken with filth fever from the scaberous bites of the rats, and spend the time quite ill. Mercifully, Nana Begler, a kindly hogwife who's herd was among those saved from the depredations of the ankheg showed her gratitude by taking care of the stricken warriors during their sojourn, tending their wounds and brewing herbal curatives and cooking amazing amounts of bacon for them.
After three days, the adventurers were hale and hearty and ready to return to the lair of the goblins. The eight man detachment mounted up, and they rode out once more.
When they reached the blackened tree, they approached the cave mouth and looked down it. At the base, two large dark shapes moved, with glittering red eyes full of malice and mouthfuls of white fangs, bared at the intruders. Worgs!
The huge monster wolves began to lope up the tunnel incline, baying for blood. The horsemen scattered back to their mounts, with Sallum and Safira vaulting into their saddles to make ready to face the foes. Sallum spurred his horse, and charged down into the tunnel, his horse furiously kicking at the one on the right, as the one on the left bounded past, snapping and snarling at the horses flanks. Safira drew her bow and rode across the field in front of the hole, firing arrows down at the approaching beast, as the other wardens finally climbed into their horses, with the warden Nelwood fighting to keep his horse from rearing as Redkettle clambered up into the saddle in front of him. Sallum began to back his horse out, leading the attacking beast up into the light, as Safira and the wardens made short work of its companion. When it had been drawn into the light, Nelwood rode up and lopped the beast's head off with his axe, as Redkettle threw a javelin into it's side, slaying it .
The wardens wheeled back to steady their beasts, and the halfling leapt off his mount to retrieve his weapon and stuff the dead worg's severed head into a sack. As he glanced down the tunnel, the halfling froze, as he saw four more of the black pelted monsters, crouching low and stalking up the tunnel toward them. With a cry of alarm, he cast another of his blasts of jangling colors, blinding one of the approaching worgs as the other three broke into a run.
Nelwood reached down and roughly grabbed the halfling by the scruff of the neck and pulled him into the saddle in front of him, wheeling away as the three worgs burst from the tunnel mouth and fan out to attack the cavalrymen (and cavalrywoman). The snarling beasts slammed into the riders, one managing to bowl over Adair's mount, crushing the hapless warden beneath his horse's bulk, while another managed to do the same to Biggleston, however this time the rider was able to leap clear before being injured. The riders brought their mounts around, and had soon encircled the furious worgs in a ring of kicking hooves and swift battle axes. When one of their number fell to Sallum's guisarme and the crushing hooves of Safira's horse, the other two attempted to flee, but were overwhelmed and slain.
The riders then dismounted to tend their wounded and take worg tails for bounties. The final worg that had been blinded by Redkettle's magic was nowhere to be seen, having doubtless fled back down the tunnel.
The group decided to push on, venturing down into the caves, now well warned about the pit trap at the bottom. They found a tunnel leading East and West, and decided to follow the Eastern corridor. Just off of the base of the tunnel to the surface, they found a ten foot wide alcove that contained a curious lever, a board coming out of a slot in the floor, which they guessed was the locking mechanism for the pit trap. They also found some worn ruts in the dirt floor, which they presumed would be from the wheels of the tower shield, which was nowhere to be seen.
They followed the tunnel for several yards, and presently they came to a side tunnel leading to the left. Following it, they saw the charred planks of the shield wall, and Henderson the warden was felled by a crossbow bolt as the goblins behind open fire. The group hurried back around the corner and drew up their plans.
Moving together, Sallum held his shield before him and advanced up the tunnel with Redkettle in tow, as Safira and the wardens covered them with bowfire. When they reached the tower shield, Sallum blocked one of the arrow slits with his shield, as Redkettle cast another blast of blinding color in through the other slit. They were rewarded by the sound of two goblins slumping to the floor, stunned by the clashing, disorienting blast of the spell, as their companions fled down the tunnel behind the shield. The wardens then raced up the tunnel and set about hacking at the barrier with their axes and pushing, finally knocking it over and crushing the senseless goblins beneath.
Behind the fallen shield wall the group found a T junction, to the left, a sturdy wooden door, to the right, a long tunnel leading into the depths of the earth. They decided to concentrate on the door, and spent some time hacking at it ineffectively with their axes when they found it locked. Michaelsford, one of the wardens, turned and hoarsely whispered an alarm, as he spotted a dark, snarling shape slinking up the tunnel toward them. Another worg! The beast charged, bearing the hapless warden down to the ground and worrying at his throat, as the adventurers turned and gave battle. Sallum stabbed at the beast with his guisarme, Safira fired shots from her bow, and Redkettle blasted the beast with a chilling ray of frost. The remaining wardens rapidly surrounded the thrashing beast, and did it in with their axes. After a moment of stunned silence, the tunnels began to echo with hooting and jabbering, and the adventurers decided it was past time to make their retreat.
As they fled out the tunnels, they came to the junction of the side tunnel and the main tunnel that led from the pit trap. As they raced past, Jeffries, the youngest of the wardens, heard something he thought was a human scream coming from the long tunnel they hadn't followed. Deciding to investigate, Sallum, Safira, Redkettle, and Jeffries ventured down the tunnel as softly as they could manage in their armor. What they came upon was a scene of horror none had imagined was possible.
The tunnel widened into a large chamber, vaulted by tree roots. The floor was covered in a tangle of vines and large, flaccid leaves, rather like a pumpkin patch, although the mottled, globular pumpkins were not the cheery orange one would expect, but instead a bruised, crimson red darkening to a purplish black. Among the vile fruits of this garden, humanoid figures writhed on the ground, with wine colored stains down their chins and chests. They were dressed as peasants or travellers, and one was wearing the tabard bearing the crest of Fort Standish, but their bodies were twitching and distorting, their skin blackening and becoming leathery, and sprouting black wiry hair. Their ears were becoming pointed, their hands and feet becoming claws, their teeth becoming jagged, their faces flattening into snarling masks. Most seemed to be shrinking and shrivelling, their human clothes hanging loose about their wasting frames, but the one in the tabard was growing, his uniform splitting over twisting, hairy muscles. The brute looked up at the stunned adventurers, his bear like nose twitching, and they could see murder boiling up in his red, glittering eyes.
With a roar, the creature, which towered at least a head taller than a man if not more, tore loose the peg in the ground it had been tied to and charged them. Sallum braced with his guisarme and stabbed it in its heaving chest, as Jeffries swung his axe and beheaded the creature. Silent with horror, the group hastily retrieved the thing's tabard and head, and fled out the tunnel to the other wardens and quit the goblin lair, now bearing terrible news for the authorities at the Fort.
They rode with all haste, after strapping the wounded into their saddles. As they rode along the edge of the treeline, they spotted an indistinct figure stumbling among the tall trees, but gave it no thought as they galloped onward.
Suddenly, their headlong flight was checked by an ambush in the tall grass of the plains. A rabble of hobgoblins, grinning under their leather sallets, stood and pulled a black tarred rope taut across their path, at the order of a hulking bugbear wearing a knit cap and a wolfskin vest and brandishing a huge, ugly morning star over his misshapen head.
The front row of riders was unhorsed as their mounts were bowled forward over the rope, as behind them the horses carrying unconscious wounded screeched to a halt. The rear guard split into two groups and gave battle to the hobgoblins as the brutes dropped the rope and drew their crude, cleaver like longswords. Sallum got his horse back on it's feet and vaulted into the saddle, charging the bugbear and his hobgoblin henchmen as Jeffries bounded past with Redkettle in the saddle in front of him. The halfling urged the warden to not stop and make speed, as their news was too important not to get back to the Fort. Safira regained her mount and began to fire covering fire with her bow. The wardens who had broken to the left soon made short work of their assailants, but on the right flank of the battle the hobgoblins were effectively knocking out the riders with their sword blows.
Sallum was finding himself overwhelmed by the bugbear and his hobgoblins, taking blows from all sides but unable to fend them off as his shield was strapped to his back. Dizzy from blood loss, he heard his sister's distinctive whistle, and looked around to see her leading a charge to escape as the horses responded to her signal and joined her in a stampede to freedom. The horse warrior spurred his mount and broke through the mob of monsters encircling him, taking a few last opportunistic blows but staying in the saddle. The hobgoblins and bugbear bellowed impotently after them as they made good their escape.
The group made their way back to Millford at top speed, collapsing in town wounded and exhausted, but thankfully having lost never a man. Redkettle raced to the Sergeant with their discovery, and was put on a fast, fresh horse with a warder and sent back to Fort Standish.
There, he related his tale to Captain Costigan, who listened gravely to their findings and thanked them for their bravery. He paid the adventurers handsomely for their kills, and a bit extra for the intelligence they had gathered, and the authorities at the fort pondered what this new information meant in their battle with the goblinoids.
When they arrived in Millford, they found the village on high alert, for the raids had increased in violence and severity. Knowing that Millford was a way point for the road patrols from Fort Standish, they sought out the Sergeant and spoke to him. They found him in the tavern, in council with a group of his riders, and were invited to sit and tell what they knew. When it became known that they were aware of the location of the goblins' forward camp, it was decided that they would lead a detachment of riders there to scout and perhaps strike another blow at the raiders.
The following morning, brother and sister and halfling, and eight fighting men armed with crossbow and battle axe and armored with chainmail, set out on horseback towards the site of the Rag Tree. Their mounts bore them swiftly across the grasslands, and soon they were in sight of the tree, now black and skeletal since it had been burned, and eerily silent, save for the distant croaking of ravens in the forest.
When they approached, they saw that a crude screen of lashed branches had been laid over the cave entrance tucked among the roots of the tree as a sort of blind. It was short work for a couple of the men to lay this aside, and they stood looking down into an inclined tunnel leading into the darkness. Redkettle took out his lantern and lit it, and they hobbled their horses and went down, with Sallum and Carruthers, one of the horsemen, and Safira and Redkettle in the lead.
When they reached the bottom of the incline, suddenly the earth gave way beneath their feet, and the adventurers found themselves in a painful tangle of limbs at the bottom of a twenty foot deep pit. Above them, they heard the hooting and jabbering of goblins, as a tower shield cut with arrow slits was hastily rolled into place at the lip of the pit to the East. A hail of black, pitch dipped crossbow bolts flew and struck down the two road wardens standing at the lip of the pit trap, before the remaining warriors unlimbered their crossbows and returned fire.
At the bottom of the pit, the four looked up to see the crossfire of quarrels, and set about climbing up out of the pit. Mercifully the pit was rather square in dimension, so it was a simple matter for Sallum to brace against the corners and use roots to climb up. He hastily tied a rope to a root and tossed it down, perhaps too hastily, as it looked like it would slip loose if pulled too hard. Safira decided to rely on her own strength to climb out, and was just over the lip of the pit in the corridor to the west, across from the tower shield, when she heard an alarming pattering of clawed feet and a fierce chittering. A swarm of dire rats, hideous beasts as large as herding dogs, had come from the depths of the tunnel, ravenous for fresh meat. The siblings were set upon by the beasts, and suffed horrible bites, as at their backs another warden fell to a goblin quarrel.
Redkettle then managed to get himself up to the lip of the pit with the wardens, and turns to cast a spell to aid Sallum and Safira. A burst of colors caused a few of the rats to fall dazed, but not enough, and one bit Sallum so gravely that he passed out. The halfling followed up with a missile of magical energy, slaying one of the rats that Safira had wounded, and giving her enough opportunity to grab her unconscious brother and leap the corner of the pit to the upward ramp. Carruthers climbed up from the pit, and the group decided to beat a retreat, with Redkettle tossing a vial of alchemist's fire at the tower shield to cover them. They hurried up the incline, dragging their wounded as the goblins hooted and banged the butts of their crossbows against the planks of their tower shield.
The group ran a short distance and then spent time binding their companion's wounds, making sure that none of them would bleed out. They were grateful that it was still day, as the goblins would not venture from their lair as long as the sun shone. Seeking to get more reconnaissance before they hied back to Millford, Safira and Redkettle and a couple of the wardens rode a circuit around the tree, searching for hidden escape tunnels or secret doors, which they fail to discover. As the daylight began to wane, they propped the wounded up on their horses and rode back to the village. On the way they nearly disturbed a grizzly bear over a kill, but gave the beast a wide berth, and avoided provoking it further.
Back in Millford, they settle in at the inn for a few days rest and receuperation. The siblings are stricken with filth fever from the scaberous bites of the rats, and spend the time quite ill. Mercifully, Nana Begler, a kindly hogwife who's herd was among those saved from the depredations of the ankheg showed her gratitude by taking care of the stricken warriors during their sojourn, tending their wounds and brewing herbal curatives and cooking amazing amounts of bacon for them.
After three days, the adventurers were hale and hearty and ready to return to the lair of the goblins. The eight man detachment mounted up, and they rode out once more.
When they reached the blackened tree, they approached the cave mouth and looked down it. At the base, two large dark shapes moved, with glittering red eyes full of malice and mouthfuls of white fangs, bared at the intruders. Worgs!
The huge monster wolves began to lope up the tunnel incline, baying for blood. The horsemen scattered back to their mounts, with Sallum and Safira vaulting into their saddles to make ready to face the foes. Sallum spurred his horse, and charged down into the tunnel, his horse furiously kicking at the one on the right, as the one on the left bounded past, snapping and snarling at the horses flanks. Safira drew her bow and rode across the field in front of the hole, firing arrows down at the approaching beast, as the other wardens finally climbed into their horses, with the warden Nelwood fighting to keep his horse from rearing as Redkettle clambered up into the saddle in front of him. Sallum began to back his horse out, leading the attacking beast up into the light, as Safira and the wardens made short work of its companion. When it had been drawn into the light, Nelwood rode up and lopped the beast's head off with his axe, as Redkettle threw a javelin into it's side, slaying it .
The wardens wheeled back to steady their beasts, and the halfling leapt off his mount to retrieve his weapon and stuff the dead worg's severed head into a sack. As he glanced down the tunnel, the halfling froze, as he saw four more of the black pelted monsters, crouching low and stalking up the tunnel toward them. With a cry of alarm, he cast another of his blasts of jangling colors, blinding one of the approaching worgs as the other three broke into a run.
Nelwood reached down and roughly grabbed the halfling by the scruff of the neck and pulled him into the saddle in front of him, wheeling away as the three worgs burst from the tunnel mouth and fan out to attack the cavalrymen (and cavalrywoman). The snarling beasts slammed into the riders, one managing to bowl over Adair's mount, crushing the hapless warden beneath his horse's bulk, while another managed to do the same to Biggleston, however this time the rider was able to leap clear before being injured. The riders brought their mounts around, and had soon encircled the furious worgs in a ring of kicking hooves and swift battle axes. When one of their number fell to Sallum's guisarme and the crushing hooves of Safira's horse, the other two attempted to flee, but were overwhelmed and slain.
The riders then dismounted to tend their wounded and take worg tails for bounties. The final worg that had been blinded by Redkettle's magic was nowhere to be seen, having doubtless fled back down the tunnel.
The group decided to push on, venturing down into the caves, now well warned about the pit trap at the bottom. They found a tunnel leading East and West, and decided to follow the Eastern corridor. Just off of the base of the tunnel to the surface, they found a ten foot wide alcove that contained a curious lever, a board coming out of a slot in the floor, which they guessed was the locking mechanism for the pit trap. They also found some worn ruts in the dirt floor, which they presumed would be from the wheels of the tower shield, which was nowhere to be seen.
They followed the tunnel for several yards, and presently they came to a side tunnel leading to the left. Following it, they saw the charred planks of the shield wall, and Henderson the warden was felled by a crossbow bolt as the goblins behind open fire. The group hurried back around the corner and drew up their plans.
Moving together, Sallum held his shield before him and advanced up the tunnel with Redkettle in tow, as Safira and the wardens covered them with bowfire. When they reached the tower shield, Sallum blocked one of the arrow slits with his shield, as Redkettle cast another blast of blinding color in through the other slit. They were rewarded by the sound of two goblins slumping to the floor, stunned by the clashing, disorienting blast of the spell, as their companions fled down the tunnel behind the shield. The wardens then raced up the tunnel and set about hacking at the barrier with their axes and pushing, finally knocking it over and crushing the senseless goblins beneath.
Behind the fallen shield wall the group found a T junction, to the left, a sturdy wooden door, to the right, a long tunnel leading into the depths of the earth. They decided to concentrate on the door, and spent some time hacking at it ineffectively with their axes when they found it locked. Michaelsford, one of the wardens, turned and hoarsely whispered an alarm, as he spotted a dark, snarling shape slinking up the tunnel toward them. Another worg! The beast charged, bearing the hapless warden down to the ground and worrying at his throat, as the adventurers turned and gave battle. Sallum stabbed at the beast with his guisarme, Safira fired shots from her bow, and Redkettle blasted the beast with a chilling ray of frost. The remaining wardens rapidly surrounded the thrashing beast, and did it in with their axes. After a moment of stunned silence, the tunnels began to echo with hooting and jabbering, and the adventurers decided it was past time to make their retreat.
As they fled out the tunnels, they came to the junction of the side tunnel and the main tunnel that led from the pit trap. As they raced past, Jeffries, the youngest of the wardens, heard something he thought was a human scream coming from the long tunnel they hadn't followed. Deciding to investigate, Sallum, Safira, Redkettle, and Jeffries ventured down the tunnel as softly as they could manage in their armor. What they came upon was a scene of horror none had imagined was possible.
The tunnel widened into a large chamber, vaulted by tree roots. The floor was covered in a tangle of vines and large, flaccid leaves, rather like a pumpkin patch, although the mottled, globular pumpkins were not the cheery orange one would expect, but instead a bruised, crimson red darkening to a purplish black. Among the vile fruits of this garden, humanoid figures writhed on the ground, with wine colored stains down their chins and chests. They were dressed as peasants or travellers, and one was wearing the tabard bearing the crest of Fort Standish, but their bodies were twitching and distorting, their skin blackening and becoming leathery, and sprouting black wiry hair. Their ears were becoming pointed, their hands and feet becoming claws, their teeth becoming jagged, their faces flattening into snarling masks. Most seemed to be shrinking and shrivelling, their human clothes hanging loose about their wasting frames, but the one in the tabard was growing, his uniform splitting over twisting, hairy muscles. The brute looked up at the stunned adventurers, his bear like nose twitching, and they could see murder boiling up in his red, glittering eyes.
With a roar, the creature, which towered at least a head taller than a man if not more, tore loose the peg in the ground it had been tied to and charged them. Sallum braced with his guisarme and stabbed it in its heaving chest, as Jeffries swung his axe and beheaded the creature. Silent with horror, the group hastily retrieved the thing's tabard and head, and fled out the tunnel to the other wardens and quit the goblin lair, now bearing terrible news for the authorities at the Fort.
They rode with all haste, after strapping the wounded into their saddles. As they rode along the edge of the treeline, they spotted an indistinct figure stumbling among the tall trees, but gave it no thought as they galloped onward.
Suddenly, their headlong flight was checked by an ambush in the tall grass of the plains. A rabble of hobgoblins, grinning under their leather sallets, stood and pulled a black tarred rope taut across their path, at the order of a hulking bugbear wearing a knit cap and a wolfskin vest and brandishing a huge, ugly morning star over his misshapen head.
The front row of riders was unhorsed as their mounts were bowled forward over the rope, as behind them the horses carrying unconscious wounded screeched to a halt. The rear guard split into two groups and gave battle to the hobgoblins as the brutes dropped the rope and drew their crude, cleaver like longswords. Sallum got his horse back on it's feet and vaulted into the saddle, charging the bugbear and his hobgoblin henchmen as Jeffries bounded past with Redkettle in the saddle in front of him. The halfling urged the warden to not stop and make speed, as their news was too important not to get back to the Fort. Safira regained her mount and began to fire covering fire with her bow. The wardens who had broken to the left soon made short work of their assailants, but on the right flank of the battle the hobgoblins were effectively knocking out the riders with their sword blows.
Sallum was finding himself overwhelmed by the bugbear and his hobgoblins, taking blows from all sides but unable to fend them off as his shield was strapped to his back. Dizzy from blood loss, he heard his sister's distinctive whistle, and looked around to see her leading a charge to escape as the horses responded to her signal and joined her in a stampede to freedom. The horse warrior spurred his mount and broke through the mob of monsters encircling him, taking a few last opportunistic blows but staying in the saddle. The hobgoblins and bugbear bellowed impotently after them as they made good their escape.
The group made their way back to Millford at top speed, collapsing in town wounded and exhausted, but thankfully having lost never a man. Redkettle raced to the Sergeant with their discovery, and was put on a fast, fresh horse with a warder and sent back to Fort Standish.
There, he related his tale to Captain Costigan, who listened gravely to their findings and thanked them for their bravery. He paid the adventurers handsomely for their kills, and a bit extra for the intelligence they had gathered, and the authorities at the fort pondered what this new information meant in their battle with the goblinoids.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Bonus dragon!
And while we're on the subject of reptiles, and in honor of the fireworks going off this upcoming weekend, here's a dragon! Rar!
Try to stay out of the burn wards this weekend, folks. Happy 4th. O' July!
Rampagin' Reptiles!
Lizard men, one of my favorite dungeon goons. Here's a squad of 8, plus a gussied up Lizard King. (He can do most anything!)
Aside from these guys, I've got a whole dang army of these guys for Warhammer Fantasy Battle, which I will display on these pages in the coming months. (The best thing about lizard men minions, you can pay them in ham! It's true!)
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