Hour of Dream, part 5

At last, a continuation of my campaign, "Last of the Drowsbane." When last I left off, Tengrym had freed his former mentor in a chance meeting. He was tracking down his nemesis, who had made his way to Scardale in order to ship tons of magically enspelled grains abroad in order to subjugate a large number of surface dwellers for the drow. He was also hoping that his brother would be successful in summoning the combined garrisons that occupied the city.

Scene 9

Setup: Tengrym and Ara sneak through the night to find a quiet and seemingly unoccupied granary near the shipyard

CF: 4

Altered? Yes — instead of a quiet place, much activity is afoot

Is it Shandorin or his forces/allies? Yes…

Are more drow present? Yes, and… (some orc slaves)

Are they loading casks for transport? Yes…

Do they outnumber even what the combined garrison can handle? Yes…

Note: Ara fails stealth test

Do the sentinels that spot Ara close in immediately on the two? Yes, but… (they are overconfident and in a smaller number (4 drow minions for each character))

Together, the two padded toward the deeper areas of the dockside warehouses. During this late hour, the place was surprisingly teeming with activity. Dark elves stood guard about the perimeter, and orcs began loading casks onto three carvels. The numbers were astonishing. With the paltry garrison of each nation in Scardale, their combined might still couldn’t hope to be at even footing with the number of dark elves, orcs, and whatever other forces Shandorin had available.

“Where is Thedric?!” whispered Tengrym to himself. Still, they couldn’t hope to succeed without the Cormyreans, Sembians, and all the others.

He turned to Ara to discuss their plan, when he saw several stealthy shapes creeping close. “Look out!” he cried as drow descended upon them.

A group of four got the jump on Ara, striking with such surprising speed and ruthlessness. Somehow, the elf swordsman readied his newfound arms and tried to put up a defense. He took the brunt of the assault and Tengrym thought his old mentor was done. However, he was made of resilient stuff.

Before Tengrym could intervene, four more put him to the test. He was flanked and cut off from his former teacher. Steel clanged, and all of the half-elf’s nerves were tested. A slice got through his guard, but fortunately, his shirt of mail held. He beat them back methodically, not daring to split his attention, and beginning with the weakest member. They were fiercer than those who had escorted Ara to the warehouse. One fell, and then another after relentless and patient blade work. The last was tenacious and put up a firm resistance. At last, Tengrym spun like a dancer, using one of the graceful feints that Ara had taught him.

The swords-master had finished his duel at the same time Tengrym dealt with his four. Though it initially appeared ill for Ara, only the dark elves’ ambush had granted them a momentary advantage against a seasoned veteran.

Does this draw attention from others? Yes, and…* (Shandorin sees and shouts an alarm)

*Twist: Tangential; Cubes — alarm wake-up, ask question, chaos

Interpretation: Hapray wakes up and causes a delay with his questioning and chaos erupts

At this point, the two could hardly catch their breath or share a word. Across the yard between stacks of cargo, Tengrym and the white-haired Shandorin locked eyes on one another. There could be no doubt…the scarred visage was clear even at the distance of a hundred paces in dim lighting. Shandorin’s eyes registered recognition and bewilderment. Those brief tense moments seemed to last a great while. At last, the ally of the dark elves shouted an alarm.

“Intruders! Every man, elf, and orc…bring me the head of the half-elf and any allies!” The scarred renegade’s finger pointed.

Others had already come upon the disturbance having heard the brief struggle. All at once, it seemed the entire bustling throng of the shipyards simultaneously turned toward the two. There was no direct line of escape, but plenty of bolt holes through which a resourceful mouse could scurry. A group of six orcs dropped their arm loads of cargo and picked up axes and clubs, charging forward. From another corner came five more dark elves while another trio rounded a blind.

They were trapped!

Suddenly, a huge form smashed into the surprised orcs, scattering them in all directions. Hapray charged in, swinging his club blindly at anything within his reach. Boxes of cargo splintered and surprised screams cried out.

“Where is that tricksy elf?!” he screamed. A rage was over the great ogre, and friend or foe, it did not matter — he wished nothing more than to wreak havoc on anyone foolish enough to stop before his frenzied charge.

“Split up!” whispered Tengrym to his companion. “Try to delay them until my brother can summon help. I’ll make for the mill — no cargo should leave this city tonight!”

Ara nodded and led a group away. The ill-tempered (but well-timed) entry of the ogre was just the diversion needed to stave off disaster — even if temporary.

Tengrym darted forward into the labyrinth of stacks, losing pursuit and spying eyes. He wove his way further from the fray. Behind him, the ogre was making a tremendous ruckus — all the better!

Does he come across anyone? Yes…*

*Twist: PC positive — creepy face, open treasure chest

Interpretation: Tengrym catches up with Shandorin with a small group of dark elves — he is unwittingly leading Tengrym to the cache of magical grains

The half-elf stopped to catch his breath and get his bearings. He was closer to the mill. Part of the Sember powered a paddlewheel which was now disengaged — nothing turned. He heard the gurgling of the lazy dark waters swirling around the locked paddle. Suddenly, he heard the approach of voices barely audible above the sounds of distant clamor.

Tengrym smiled. Just before him passed the form of his nemesis, the scarred man’s dark cape fanned out behind him as he passed. Several more dark shadows tailed him — more dark elves.

“Follow me!” Shandorin hissed to his unseen escort. “We must secure the remainder of the wheat…”

The figures passed over a narrow bridge and entered the old mill. Quickly and stealthily, Tengrym followed shortly after. Waters gurgled under the bridge as he slipped through the door which was still ajar. Once inside, he crouched and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark.

Are there more within? Yes…

Are they orc grunts? Yes, and… (several larger bugbear/half-ogre types for sheer strength)

What’s going on with the grain? heart, traveling sack, oatmeal

Interpretation: the remaining grain is being offloaded to casks at the center of the mill space; getting there is not easy

Do the workers have masks on? Yes…

There was noise and loud voices, along with considerable banging and grunting. Beyond a short corridor was a flight of stairs leading to a dimly-lit open area. Tengrym cautiously continued this way, stopping at the landing to survey his surroundings. The mill was an open, dust-covered space around a central stone millworks. Orcs and larger goblinoids wearing masks were busy directing freshly milled grains into wooden casks. Shandorin must have taken some other route not seen. He and the drow elves were stationed on a catwalk overlooking the central area from above. The disfigured half-elf was shouting orders down below.

Tengrym withdrew a few steps and considered his next move. He had no idea what might happen if he were to try and directly disintegrate the poisoned grains. They might be extremely volatile, or spread their deadly sleep effect around a concentrated area, killing many in the town. No…too risky to attempt that route. Tengrym decided on a more difficult route.

Tengrym stepped out into the open and chanted loudly, producing a pinch of sand and an eyelash. The orcs and half-ogre immediately turned to face the speaking voice and abruptly fell asleep, toppling where they stood.

From above, Shandorin commanded his dark elves to descend. “Capture him! Your queen’s prize awaits!”

Then to Tengrym, the disfigured half-elf pointed a finger down. “Stand where you are!” That voice had the power of magic behind it. Tengrym felt the power of it — the sheer will — seizing his motions. Need somehow drove his powers of resistance beyond their norm. He wrenched free of the force as the four dark elves raced down stairs — however, he still froze, guessing well the nature of the fell spell and feigning its success against his will.

When he heard the booted steps of the drow near, he uttered a word of arcane command. He abruptly disappeared and reappeared a mere step from Shandorin, sword in hand. The villain’s face palled and he began uttering another spell while drawing his sword.

Tengrym was the faster.

Shandorin grimaced as a nick opened an ugly wound in his already scarred face. Had he not aborted his spell and pulled back at the last moment, the swing might have taken off his head.

Below, Tengrym heard the ‘click’ of hand crossbows at the ready. Without moving his gaze from his enemy’s eyes, Shandorin put up a hand towards his dark skinned allies. “We shall settle this now,” he said to Tengrym, replacing his scowl with a hideous smirk. The two paced around one another among the rickety heights.

“You are a Drowsbane,” said Tengrym. “What was your price? Or did the drow place some fell enchantment on you?”

What does he answer? Leading a Friend

“You sound like your father,” hissed his counterpart. “The curse is laid upon you…”

“Your blood is thrice cursed if you are in league with these vile villains.”

“Not so. That part of my blood is purged. Give up now…join me and abandon the old ways. Vow allegiance to dark ones, and the Spider Queen may see fit to purge that aspect of your soul for which she thirsts.”

“It’s over, Shandorin. The men of Sembia, Cormyr, and the Moonsea know of your plan. You cannot succeed…”

“Whether this aspect of the plan fails or no will have no effect. It cannot break the curse laid upon the last of the Drowsbane.”

“There is a prophecy…you well know of it. What is it?”

“Join me…I will not ask again,” insisted Shandorin, ignoring the question.

“You must tell me,” repeated Temgrym.

They circled more like quarreling cats sizing one another up in a darkened alley.

“Enough talk!” shouted Shandorin.

At that, he launched himself forward. The two clashed, matching blow with parry, anticipating one another’s feints and lithe steps. For many turns, neither opponent gained ground nor exploited any weakness. This continued for what seemed like an interminable interval. Both were evenly matched. Both were equally trained in arms. Both were astonishingly similar in style and gait.

At last, Shandorin worked Tengrym into cramped quarters and sliced along his arm. An inch of exposed flesh at his elbow opened on his sword arm. Tengrym’s riposte was twice as forceful and three times as surprising as he refused to allow the minor touch slow him. Shandorin limped away, knowing a deep gouge was scored his outside thigh on his right leg.

The two heaved breaths and took a moment to take stock of the situation. Tengrym seemed slightly better off with only a shallow wound along his elbow and tricep and a thin line of red along his left forearm that he did not remember getting.

The drow began creeping up the stairs again, wondering if their ally was done in. However, it was not so.

“Shagri-chozh-WAN!” Shandorin cried, gripping a yellow amulet that hung about his neck. It flashed momentarily and the disfigured half-elf launched forward.

With renewed fury, the villain thrashed, foregoing his refined fencing style in favor of barbaric ferocity driven by strength. Tengrym put up a defense parrying the blows. However, some supernatural strength had taken hold of Shandorin’s limbs and Tengrym was numbed by the impacts. Sweat beaded on both combatant’s faces.

Finally, Tengrym’s blade was battered from his grip and skittered across the floor, falling to the ground below with a loud clang. Tengrym uttered a spell of blasting, but staggering back, he stammered and the spell failed in a useless display of light. In the meantime, several of the drow were near at hand, and another had roused the orcs below that Tengrym had put to sleep.

Turning from the scene below, Tengrym faced his nemesis, who had now uttered a word of magic and lunged forward, gripping Tengrym’s neck with a vice-like grip in his off-hand. Simultaneously, a white-hot electrical charge ran along Shandorin’s arm into Tengrym’s body. He swooned and nearly passed out, convulsing from the powerful charge. He fought to draw air through his closing throat.

Do the drow intervene? Yes, and… (A little birdie flies in)

Note: rolling some cubes, I generate appropriate on-the-fly stats and spells for Dynas Dundragon, currently disguised as an owl.

Does Dynas warn Tengrym telepathically (one of his spells)? Yes, but… (not by spell)

Does Shandorin deny the drow their prize? Yes…

The nearest dark elf stepped behind Shandorin. In a strange accent, he whispered, “Release the sacrifice!”

Still clutching Tengrym’s throat, Shandorin shot the drow a hateful look, enhanced by his disfigurement. “Step back, dogs!” he hissed, now fueled by bloodlust beyond reasoning. “This last Drowsbane is mine!”

The two drow warriors drew steel. At the same moment came a screech and flutter of wings as an old owl circled overhead, gaining entry through some shorn roofing or ruined ventilhation.

Shandorin continued his death grip on Tengrym’s throat. Emboldened, the first of the dark elves stepped forward and pushed the disfigured half-elf away. Shandorin fell and Tengrym was released, gasping for breath. Two dark elves descended upon him while the third stepped over the fallen Shandorin.

Tengrym quickly regained his wits and recited a quick snatch of arcane rote. A bright flash knocked one of the drow down senseless, but the other had shielded himself from the bright light. Now combat broke out in two places on the confined upper deck. Just then, the roused orcs were commanded to help one of the drow and they slowly shook off the remaining effects of sleep and grabbed whatever tools they could to aid in the battle.

Suddenly, the owl whooshed down to the floor and morphed into a man — none other than the wizened Dynas Dundragon, the outcast court wizard of the Drowsbane family. The wizard hurled a mighty ball of fire, exploding against one side of the old mill. Screams of the dying sounded as most of the throng of orcs fell into blackened heaps. Flames quickly leapt up the side of the old building.

Tengrym got only a quick glance at the carnage. He noted the inferno licking up the dry wooden walls. He strove against a wicked dark elf with a sword in hand. Nearby, Shandorin was also engaged with a second. Quick sword work dropped his opponent.

The Drowsbane could not guess the source of the explosion. He still fought for breath. The drow attacked, going for his neck with the pommel of his sword. The two danced — Tengrym not so graceful as his counterpart.

Does Shandorin attack the remaining drow? Yes…

The disfigured villain interceded between Tengrym and the drow. A savage slice drove the dark elf back before he finally fell to countless deadly slices.

Tengrym could have uttered a word and teleported out of harm’s way. However, his own rationality had fled him. He could think of nothing but defeating his nemesis — a man who represented the ultimate treachery and antithesis of his proud ancestral heritage.

Instead, he rolled to one side near the ledge overlooking the mill below. Flames continued to lick the side of the building. Now smoke filled the upper portions. At that moment, he saw Dynas’s fierce eyes. He took no time to wonder. He also saw his magical blade below. With a quick two words, the sword was hoisted from the floor magically and sped with a flash into Tengrym’s waiting hand. He turned just in time as Shandorin came in for the offensive.

Rather than meet his blade, Tengrym mustered his speed and leapt, turning and kicking the savage attacker, knocking him through the guard rail and over the deadfall to the mill floor.

Is it a Master [TN 13] fall? No… (it is just ‘Expert [TN 11]’)

Shandorin flailed through the air. He landed hard on his side, the wind knocked out from him. Smoke continued to billow, choking Tengrym where he stood regarding the form below. Dynas saluted him with a sarcastic smirk. He made a frightening gesture, and two remaining orcs that had not been obliterated by they powerful fires ran through an exit. “You’re welcome,” the wizard said to Tengrym.

Tengrym began to cough. He pointed to the form below. “Don’t…let him escape…” Then he recalled the rote to a featherfall spell.

Dynas turned to the man who brought himself to his knees and lumbered after the two fleeing orcs. “Not so fast!” Dynas said, rolling up his sleeves. “Attum brimbiae, salloh NAH!” he shouted. Motes of light shot from his fingertips and took hold of the fleeing figure in black. Where the man had been, now was only a gray tortoise.

“Hmph!” commented the wizard. “That should do it!”

Tengrym controlled his coughing enough to utter the spell. Down he floated through the smoke to the floor to stand beside the wizard. “I haven’t yet forgiven or forgotten, Dynas,” he said.

“I know,” said Dynas, rolling his eyes. “You made that abundantly clear in the Elvenwood.”

Tengrym scooped up the fleeing tortoise and dropped him in a sack secured to his waist. “That’s a humiliating trick you have,” he commented. The wizard only smirked.

“Fine job burning down this place, wizard!” added Tengrym. He now looked at the grains around the mill with newfound worry. “That chaff is dangerous! We have to do something…I don’t know what it will do if ignited.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Tengrym wrung his hands in desperation and frustration. “Why didn’t I…?! If you had…!” He abandoned it and fled, the wide-eyed wizard running after.

Does the chaff explode? Yes, but… (not immediately — they have time to escape)*

*Twist: Thread (move away) — Hunt down Shandorin and challenge him in single combat

Interpretation: Somehow in the hustle, Tengrym loses the bag with the tortoise…by some means, the morphed villain manages to escape!

Have the garrisons arrived (due to Thedric) to do battle with the enemy? Yes, but… (they are sorely pressed)

When the two fled the building, the battle had renewed. A huge ogre was tearing up large tracts of the port, while a tight ring of drow and orcs hemmed in a desperate few fighters. Many of them bore the livery of the combined garrisons. Thedric did it! He succeeded thought Tengrym. But they were losing.

Suddenly, from behind, an enormous bright flash exploded, followed by an impossibly loud thunderclap. All were bowled over by a tremendous shockwave that leveled the entire mill and much around it.

Do the enemy lose their fight at this point? Yes…*

*Twist: Tangential — low fuel gauge, meteor

Interpretation: without better ideas, this could be some king of portent…low gas, a waning sickle moon, meteor…a comet

Then it was quiet. Before there had been combat and death, but now only eerie silence. It took some time, but the survivors, both allied and opposed, slowly got to their feet.

A lone figure cried, “Look!”

All heads followed his finger toward the heavens. There, they saw a curious sign. High in the sky, Selûne passed through a break in the clouds, now only a sliver of molten silver. Almost more dazzling and crossing at a perpendicular angle was the bright tail of a huge comet. Every beholder knew that they witnessed some great portent, but they could not begin to understand its meaning.

Almost immediately, the remaining drow and goblinoids turned and fled, though their numbers had been previously overwhelming. A charge among the garrisoned forces sounded, and the warriors began to route the enemy. Most of the orcs surrendered, far preferring the doom of men over the crueler dark elves. The latter fled.

Where does the enemy lead? earth, digging hole

Tengrym and Dynas followed after. The drow, passing like shades in the night, fled along the coast south away from the river Sember. There, just beyond the buildings was a thick tangle of woods. They were making for it.

Do the drow get away? Yes, and… (Their underground complex has a magical gate to spirit them away)

The drow had a lead. When Tengrym and the others at last reached the wood, they discovered a stair leading within the ground. The half-elf summoned light and the allies descended. Within was only a cylindrical chamber etched with runes on the wall and a strange design was on the floor.

“A gate,” observed Dynas.

“Can we use it to find them?” asked Tengrym.

“It would take me considerable time, but perhaps…”

“How much time?”

Dynas shrugged. “Hours? Weeks? I cannot begin to know until I begin to research. And I don’t have access to my tomes.”

Tengrym stared at the room in dismay. Yet, there was still the magical grain which was not all accounted for. They had to regroup and have counsel with the powers that were in control of Scardale. At least he had the scheming Shandorin in captivity, he reminded himself, patting his sack. To his shock and amazement, the sack was ripped open! Had Shandorin chewed through the canvas? Quickly, he retraced his steps, but he could not find a tortoise in the chaos. When he returned to Dynas, the wizard confirmed that the spell was not lasting.

"You wanted me to restrain him, yes?" answered the wizard. "A permanent changing is a more difficult spell...not one that is simply cast willy-nilly! It takes time and effort, and the appropriate laboratory if one is to do it well."

Tengrym had lost his nemesis again! There were clearly more tricks up the villain’s sleeve. Tengrym knew that the disfigured one knew much about Baolnor’s tablet.

Conclusion

CF: -1

NPCs: Anoris Shandorin, Dark Elves, Thedric, Illistyl Elventree, the basilisk, Dynas Dundragon, Orlimpar Eveningfall, Arlgoth the Mighty, Soldiers of Sembia, Arafraulyn, Hapray the Ogre

Threads: Find a new safe haven, Stop Shandorin’s plan, Hunt down Shandorin and challenge him in single combat

This was a long scene and climactic. It was great to return. One more scene should satisfy to tie up all the loose ends with the grain...but who knows? Maybe some twists will prolong this one. The protagonist wasn't successful in his aims, but it was exciting nonetheless...and an escaping villain to return another time is great!

Hour of Dream, part 4

Here is the next part of my "Last of the Drowsbane" campaign. Things get a little crazy here, but fun!

Scene 8

Setup: Tengrym sneaks through the night to find a quiet and seemingly unoccupied granary near the shipyard

CF: 4

Altered? Interrupt! Focus — move away from a thread (stop Shandorin’s plan); meaning — Eating Watermelon, Little Faerie, Key

Interpretation: it is a fantasy after all — so, here’s the gonzo — Tengrym hears noise and sees an elf being led in chains to an ogre in a building who is seemingly ready to make a meal of the elf. I’m also adding in another hook — “Last of the Drowsbane”.

Tengrym hastened back into town, keeping to the shadows along the edge of the street and staying alert in case he had another chance encounter with Shandorin. Instead, along a more desolate part of town where the shipyards, warehouses, and granary lay, the half-elf ducked behind cover as he heard approaching whispers.

What’s the elf look like? Eye, cauldron, sunflower

Male? Yes, and… (a great physical specimen)

Four figures escorted a fifth in chains. The four were dressed in black — a deeper-than-night black that might have been the cloaks of dark elves. The fifth was plainly a moon elf. He had pale skin, long hair the hue of black iron, and striking golden eyes. By his bruises and cuts, it appeared he had been in some sort of fight.

What is his relationship to the Drowsbanes? ‘L’, counting coins, magic beans

The tall elf was familiar to Tengrym. Something registered in his tired brain — something deep and nearly forgotten.

The elf was led to one of the warehouses. The figures stopped and rapped on the door. It was flung wide revealing a massive figure of gargantuan proportions and ugly distorted goblin-like features backlit by pale yellow light from within — an ogre!

“Just in time for me meal!” the giant grumbled in bass tones. “Elf flesh, no less!”

“Do with him as you will, Hapray,” answered one of the four.

The elf was thrust inside and the door slammed shut. As the four returned to the direction from which they came, Tengrym reeled. He knew the elf!

Arafraulyn — ‘Ara’ — was the highest paid of Dergan Drowsbane’s servants. Master of Arms for the noble house, Ara taught the novice lordlings the art of dueling and swordplay, sewing the seeds of future warlords, as well as leading the soldiery of Sullaspryn. Indeed, Tengrym had apprenticed under his rigorous and disciplined tutelage, learning the elvish tongue and art of elvish fencing from a true master.

What was Ara doing in Scardale?

Tengrym leaned back and tried to absorb the implications. Ara was a trusted ally and friend of Tengrym’s dearly departed father, and the young half-elf had respected and feared him…he owed much to the master elf who had taught him courage, self-reliance, and the skills to survive in a dangerous and ruthless world.

As Tengrym eyed the timber structure, a great owl alighted on a bent lamppost just above him. Its flapping wings startled the half-elf. He looked up at the golden-eyed bird with a frown. He contemplated lobbing a stone at the nuisance, but turned his attention back on the building.

The height was too high and sheer to climb. However, a word and a gesture blinked the half-elf on the perch. Gingerly, he crept over to an open vent onto the rafters of the ceiling within, looking down over a most filthy habitat. Even now, the giant stirred a pot of boiling liquid, adding some roots.

“This be Hapray’s tastiest meal in a long spell,” the ogre said.

“May my bones stick in your gullet,” answered Ara.

Does their banter reveal clues as to what Ara is doing there? Yes, and… (reveals some other relevant truth)

What? crab, scary shadow, compass

“How about I pull out your tongue while the pot is stewing?”

“Had I not been pinched tailing Shandorin, I might be separating your head from your neck about now,” answered Ara, unimpressed. “Curse this mess! If only I had his moon dial, I could be free of this gods-forsaken place!”

Moon dial? Tengrym had never heard of such a device before. Obviously, Ara had tracked the enemy here for wholly other purposes. Tengrym was intrigued.

Nonetheless, it was time to save his old mentor. Plucking an eyelash and producing a pinch of sand, he began chanting.

“Eh, what’s that?!” the ogre growled turning to follow the sound up in the dark rafters. Then the big oaf fell into a snoring heap.

Another word of magic brought Tengrym floating lazily down to the floor by the ogre’s side. He relieved the sleeping giant of his keys and released the elf.

“It’s been a great many years, master Arafraulyn,” he said.

Is Ara not surprised to see Tengrym? No, but… (he guards his reaction)

“Only by the count of men,” the elf replied cooly.

“What are you doing here?” asked Tengrym.

“Can we not talk next to this snoring, stinking heap?”

The two made their way to the door which was barred from within. As they unlocked the door, a curious owl watched their movements from above.

Do any negatives hear their escape? Yes, and… (the four drow are waiting outside)

The two were talking when they pushed the door open, but came up short, face-to-face with the same four dark elves that had escorted Ara to the ogre. Perhaps Tengrym had not been perfectly silent in his rescue. Dark steel was borne in the evil elves’ hands.

Arafraulyn, who was weapon-less, leaned back against a beam and gestured to Tengrym. The half-elf’s face twisted to a sarcastic grin. He drew steel and advanced.

The exchange was quick and fierce. Tengrym rolled before a magical globe of darkness targeted him, avoiding the impenetrable blackness. Steel sang as blows were countered and the four seemed at first to outmatch the one. However, the seemingly slow grace effectively countered each blow as one by one, Tengrym found and exploited each dark elf’s defenses. In moments, he had soundly defeated them without a mark or a scratch in return.

Ara applauded. “Well done! Very fine execution — if a bit unconventional.”

“Isn’t convention in combat synonymous with predictable — and defeated — to quote a master?” Tengrym countered.

“Yes, young Drowsbane…however, unpredictability and a flawless technique are two separate things entirely.”

Tengrym rolled his eyes. “I assume I will ever be the pupil.”

Ara relieved one of the dead drow of his blade. The two dragged the bodies into the warehouse. “These may be needed to prove my claim to the officials here,” Tengrym said.

“Don’t you think we should take care of him?” Ara asked, pointing to the ogre who continued to snore. “Tengrym, he could be a further nuisance.”

“About my name,” Tengrym corrected. “I’ve been going by the name, Veldis.”

“Veldis? You’re hiding from your good name? A finer and truer epithet could not suffice.”

“Not hiding…discretion. The last bit of blood in my veins and that of my brother is a commodity rather in demand by fell forces these days…”

“You would do well to wear your namesake’s livery once again.”

“Perhaps the opportunity will present itself.”

“And the ogre?”

“Leave him be…he may sleep a good while.”

The two left as Tengrym quickly filled in his old mentor on Shandorin’s plot.

Is this moon-dial some relic from Sullaspryn? Yes…

Is Ara under the employ of living members of the Drowsbanes of which Tengrym is yet unaware? Yes…

Who? falling, bouncing ball, drama

Interpretation: someone dear to Tengrym, thought dead, but actually alive

Does Ara withhold the identity? Yes, and… (won’t tell under any circumstance for the time being)

Arafraulyn briefly told Tengrym about the moon-dial, a holy relic taken from the chapel of Selûne in Sullaspryn which Shandorin had stolen. Ara had been tracking the renegade for years. Tengrym naturally asked for whom the elvish swordsmaster was working. “Why would you have any further loyalty to an all-but-dead family from which you have been released for decades?”

“Not all the Drowsbanes are gone,” Ara answered cryptically. “Even those believed long dead…”

“Who? Who, Ara?!”

The elf kept his lips sealed, however. From above, an owl blinked.

Conclusion

CF: +1

NPCs: Anoris Shandorin, Dark Elves, Thedric, Illistyl Elventree, the basilisk, Dynas Dundragon, Orlimpar Eveningfall, Arlgoth the Mighty, Soldiers of Sembia, Arafraulyn, Hapray the Ogre

Threads: Find a new safe haven, Stop Shandorin’s plan, Hunt down Shandorin and challenge him in single combat

The Hour of Dream, part 3

Hello all! I've been absent for some time from this here blog, and not by lack of desire. RL has intervened, of course. I also have plenty of distractions during my scant dosages of free moments. That has been eaten by a little fun reading, working on my own adaptation of John Harper's World of Dungeons, and trying to get in on the Fate Core popularity.

Too little time. Too many distractions.

Ensuing frustration results.

In any case, I'm posting the next part in my "Last of the Drowsbane" campaign. I'm going one or two scenes at a time, since they are stretching longer at this point. This is old, by I want to get this on the blog.

Here is a brief scene wherein Thedric, the protagonist's sidekick, goes in search of help for their predicament. Using Questers of the Middle Realms for this as well as my Epic Mythic GM Emulator lite adaptation.

Scene 7

Setup: Thedric goes to the first garrison, finding a sleepy skeleton garrison of Cormyr
CF: 3
Altered? Yes
Interpretation: Only the Sembian garrison admits anyone at this hour

Are there many there? No, but… (more are within a quick call)
Is their stance unfriendly? Yes, and…* (they’re in no mood for shannanigans)
*Twist: focus — Protagonist positive; meaning — cauldron, goblin, lightning bolt
Interpretation: Tengrym may have some un-looked for help in the form of one rival wizard

Heaving breaths, Thedric braced himself in the doorway of the only garrison headquarters he found with light inside. The only Sembian warrior — a man on the portly side and not so spry — looked up in anger from his warm bowl of stew. He sat at a table facing the roguish intruder with a look so sour — marked by suspicion that the newcomer to take his meal.

“What do YOU want?!” the man blurted out.

“I…I need…” Thedric couldn’t quite spit the words out. “I need help!”

The man grimaced. “Come back in the morning! We’re closed, can’t you see?!”

“No, wait!” Thedric panted. “Do you want DARK ELVES overrunning this town, and every other town in the Dales and… probably… all of Sembia and Cormyr with it?” he said, making it all up as he went. The off-the-cuff manner was all too apparent, he realized. Yet, on he went. “Free do dominate with sleepy folks who can’t do a thing ’cause it’s too late already?”

The man turned a brighter shade of red. “What nonsense is this? You been in your cups? Looks like you’ve been bruised up a fair bit.” The man pushed his chair back and approached, obviously to push Thedric out the door of the little lodge. “Sleep it off, I say. Come back in the morning if there’s still an emergency.”

“STOP!” screamed Thedric. “You Fool!” He tried to sound a bit like his half-brother for effect — to shame the man. However, it had quite the opposite effect. The man turned even brighter and tried to land his hands on Thedric.

The younger man easily spun out of reach and was now in the room, running with the older on his tail. Thedric leapt up on the table and knocked the stew to the floor. He swung on the chandelier and alighted far away. This angered the soldier even more. This was going nowhere. Thedric needed to do something. Tengrym counted on him!

The man turned to the wall and went to heft a great battle axe from its resting stops. With deft maneuvers, Thedric sent two daggers end over end. Each pinned the man’s arms to the wall through the loose fabric of his sleeves. The man’s eyes went wide with fear now and he struggled to pull them free.

“Hold!” Thedric said, holding his hands out in a peaceful gesture. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. Just listen! Could a drunkard throw like that? I need you to listen!”

Note: I will leave this scene hanging as-is for now. The result of whether he could talk sense into him I will leave for a roll at the critical time in an upcoming scene.

Conclusion

CF: +1
NPCs: Anoris Shandorin, Dark Elves, Thedric, Illistyl Elventree, the basilisk, Dynas Dundragon, Orlimpar Eveningfall, Arlgoth the Mighty, Soldiers of Sembia
Threads: Find a new safe haven, Stop Shandorin’s plan, Hunt down Shandorin and challenge him in single combat

The Hour of Dream, part 2

And now, the second, and more entertaining part of “The Hour of Dream.” This one had some nice twists and turns that brings up some past demons for the protagonist. I’m liking the direction this is taking this far. More twists come in the forthcoming part.

Also, here are some NPCs that are featured here: Dynas Dundragon — former member of the Drowsbane court (all we know at this point is that he has an Expert [+4] Polymorph Spell), Orlimpar Eveningfall — a remaining sun elf noble of Cormanthor, and Arlgoth the Mighty, a more than capable barroom brawler.

Scene 4

Setup: The characters blaze their way through the woods, and must navigate, fighting time

CF: 3

Altered? Interrupt!

Twist: focus — close a thread (Find a way to Scardale through the forest); meaning — camera, cane

Note: during the last scene, Tengrym generated a Story Hook from his Quality, ‘Homeland: Northern Moonsea (Sullaspryn)’ — I’m adding this in for interest

Interpretation: an acquaintance from the old days of Sullaspryn who has banded with the elves who have remained find the heroes wandering and guide them to safety

Does Tengrym know this person well? Yes, but…* (not on good terms)

*Twist: focus — NPC action, negative (new NPC); meaning — serpent, angry face

Interpretation: Dynas Dundragon, a former court wizard of Tengrym’s father’s court in Sullaspryn, had been a trusted servant. Before the city’s fall, there were accusations that Dynas had fallen in with an evil serpent cult, brining shame and scandal on the house.

Is Dynas in the company of others? Yes…

With whom/what? commercial building, house

Interpretation: A faction of remaining elves, one a member of a major house

Tengrym and Thedric picked their way forward as soon as they were ready to move. Tengrym tried to keep south and east, but they quickly became disoriented in the dusk light. They were hopelessly lost and starting at the slightest nighttime forest sound (or lack thereof). The two were becoming panicked. In the wilds in darkness, they were easily at the mercy of their predator.

It was then that they heard a curious and nearby birdcall answered by another. In moments, their weapons were borne and they found themselves hemmed in by dark figures. Tengrym called for Thedric to be at ease. He could now see that they were elves, and one was a tall gold elf.

“Well met, good friends,” Tengrym said in elvish, sheathing his sword. “Be at peace! It is a blessing our paths have crossed this night.”

“You are not safe here,” warned the gold elf. “Follow us if you wish to live.”

The response was not exactly friendly; nonetheless, the two heroes followed. They were led by meandering ways and through dell and ridge to a welcoming sylvan glade lit by many dancing faerie-lights. When they came to this clearing, they were greeted by more sentinels, and then questioned.

“I am Orlimpar Eveningfall, of the house of Evalynquestil, and you are now in my power,” said the gold elf in solemn testament. “Answer your names and purpose here so we can deem it ill or good.”

Tengrym did not hesitate to give their real names, for ever the elves of Cormanthor were allies of the Drowsbanes. He told as much of their story as he dared, including their part in Shadowdale and the demon, Egelrenardruth, and the mysterious disfigured man Shandorin and his plan to help the dark elves achieve domination over much of the north.

Orlimpar listened keenly with bright copper eyes, and determined their cause worthy. “We shall help you make swift passage south to the port, for men and elves together share this plight and this one common enemy. Come! Let us drink tonight and share merriment while it may be had and while our hearts may find a narrow place to entertain it.”

So the two were led into the small village made into the boles of great trees and the open spaces around them. A great fire burned brightly, and elvish liquor was passed between them.

It was then that Tengrym spied a particular familiar person. He came forward wordlessly, a hand on his sword hilt and stood before an ancient bent half-elf with a mane of silver hair and a crystal eye.

“Let it be known! I call out one Dynas Dundragon to duel for his treachery upon the House of Drowsbane and the fallen folk of Sullaspryn in the north!” Tengrym cried. His voice shook with barely controlled rage.

In moments, the two were ringed in by elves wielding bows. All were tense and observing Tengrym’s every move.

Does Dynas bear ill will toward the Drowsbanes? Yes…*

*Twist: focus — protagonist, negative; meaning — blackbird, agreement

The man looked up and registered recognition, and even anger. “A duel? Name your terms! Shall it be at swords? Wrestling? How about a simple feat of strength?”

Tengrym was at a loss for words. Obviously the main was being sarcastic. He had always been a feeble man, but a worthy wizard.

“I shall decide,” announced Dynas again. “He who may first lift his opponent in a feat of physical strength wins, and only his victory shall be rightful!”

With that, the man uttered an incantation. Before Tengrym could react, motes of light surrounded him and he screamed in horror as his body withered. His voice became a squawk, and soon there was only a screeching blackbird where once there stood Tengrym Drowsbane. The wizard leapt forward and snatched the frantic dancing bird who knew not how to fly, lifting him up in his grasp with an evil smile on his lips. He looked ready to squeeze the life from the small black creature in his grasp.

Thedric drew two daggers and made ready to let them fly. “You bastard! What have you done to him?!”

Bow strings were drawn, ready to be released at both Thedric and Dynas until Orlimpar intervened. “Dynas! Let him go. What is the meaning of this?”

The wizard released Tengrym, who hopped around awkwardly, continuing to squawk, unable to give shape intelligible words. Dynas then spoke, describing how his time in the Drowsbane court had been a short-lived one. He had uncovered forces at work that were unraveling the dynastic house from within just as more malevolent forces were active underneath the city, preparing for its downfall. Before he could warn Tengrym’s father, Dergan, Dynas was smeared for acts he did not commit, and dark alliances that were not true.

“Dergan Drowsbane, the last ruler of Sulasspryn, would not hear my words,” he concluded. “I was banished with an edict of execution if I ever stepped foot in the city again. So much for the light of justice! I was an outcast and outlaw from the province I loved…all because Dergan was too proud to be associated with my name.”

Does Orlimpar take Dynas’s side? Yes, but…(leaves the quarrel up to Tengrym and Dynas to resolve themselves)

Orlimpar listened judiciously. In the end, he commanded Dynas to release Tengrym from his enchantment. The wizard did so, but Tengrym was still livid and would not listen to the wizard’s defense.

“While I hear truth in your words,” the gold elf replied, “I have little enough power in this, my own fallen shadow of a kingdom, to make any binding decree…nor would my proclamation have any weight among the heirs of the ruined Moonsea city. I cannot break this feud through force of will or commandment. You must settle this for yourselves…however, as long as you are both guests in Cormanthor, there can be no such quarrel. You shall both be removed from our lands if you wish to continue this!”

Turning then to Tengrym, he said, “I can only vouch for this man’s sincerity and service. He has been a valued and accepted member of our court here for many years even before the Retreat. I have never, nor have those more wise than I, perceived any deception in this man. His words ring true, if you would but listen enough to judge yourself.”

Tengrym brooded in silence and hatred for long moments before responding. At last, he said, “I wish no dishonor to your house here in this sacred land, and with respect, I acquiesce, so will put aside our differences for now. However, they are not forgotten nor forgiven. We shall see what shall be revealed at a time when proper tribunals can convene. Master Dundragon’s treachery remains until disproven among my people on their terms.”

“So be it, heir of the House of Drowsbane,” answered Orlimpar.

Does Dundragon know of the prophecy? No, but… (he knows about one additional copy made from Baolnor’s original stone)*

*Twist: focus — tangential; meaning — eyeglasses, bump the bottle, chaos

Suddenly, from behind, Thedric, who had backed off, relaxing in the knowledge that a confrontation would not be forthcoming, knocked a glass bottle from its perch upon a board near at hand. It shattered, releasing the magical music that was contained within. Ethereal and celestial song broke forth, immediately ending the tension. Thedric was embarrassed, but got a firm clap on his shoulder from a nearby smiling elf. Merriment did ensue among those not brooding over old wounds.

In privacy, Orlimpar took Tengrym aside. “I know of your family’s prophecy…and so does Dynas. You would do well to forgive old unfounded accusations. Only together can you unlock secrets that may aid your grand quest. Where you see an enemy, I see a potential ally. You may take or reject my words as is best for you…”

Conclusion

CF: +1

NPCs: Anoris Shandorin, Dark Elves, Thedric, Illistyl Elventree, the basilisk, Dynas Dundragon, Orlimpar Eveningfall

Threads: Find a new safe haven, Discover if Scardale is the distribution point for the seed, Stop Shandorin’s plan

Scene 5

Setup: Tengrym and Thedric arrive by aerial mount to the outskirts of Scardale

CF: 4

Altered? Yes

Interpretation: Rather than by air, they are given swift boats and knowledge of a river emptying to the mouth of the Ashaba

The next morning, Tengrym and Thedric were roused, their supplies replenished, and a slender elf-boat made ready to wash them down the Ashaben. Tengrym had given thought to Orlimpar’s words, but said nothing further to Dynas. As far as he was concerned, the wizard was still a traitor. The fact that he may have information regarding the Prophecy of the Moon as it was also known could not penetrate the armor of righteousness that Tengrym wore so proudly.

The pair said their farewells and gave their gratitude to Lord Eveningfall and his folk, then paddled their way quietly downstream in the swift little boat. The journey, which should have taken them more than four days by Tengrym’s estimation brought them through open land and finally to the outskirts of the township of Scardale in only two long days. They hid the little craft, and wandered into town as dusk gave way to twilight.

What’s Scardale like? sheep, submarine, parachute

The two immediately noted a town in turmoil — the few townsfolk out and about at that hour went about their daily drudgery, a downcast lot following routine despite the topsy-turvy condition inflicted upon their homeland by a now-defeated despot and currently garrisoned by an uneasy alliance of several nations. The seedy element attracted there — free-swords and thieves alike — was equal to that of corrupt cities twenty times the size of the small port town. Buildings looked rundown and shabby, and bands of soldiers marked by swatches of cloth about their armbands to delineate nationality circled the streets like vultures, eyeing one another provocatively, sometimes even shouting insults or taunts to counterparts among their rivals.

Night was already falling, but Tengrym wanted to find out what they could.

Do they find a populated tavern or inn? Yes, and… (many glib-tongued patrons)

Has there been any evidence of poisoning in town or other evidence related to tainted grains? Yes, but… (the clues are not obvious to those not-in-the-know)

The two found themselves in The Tumbling Tankard, a rowdy watering hole overflowing with all types and colors of folk, local and foreign. It wasn’t long before they got themselves within earshot of gossip. Most locals wanted to discuss the more exciting matters of quarreling soldiers or the last sighting of Lord Lashan, but it wasn’t difficult for Tengrym to steer conversation toward local matters. In his evasive and cautious manner, he didn’t get many answers directly signaling an obvious case of Shandorin’s arrival or operation. There certainly wasn’t any sighting of dark elves, else the locals would have certainly brought it up first given what sorts of things captured their interests. However, he did get stories of two accidents at the local granary — two deaths in the past two days. When asked more about it, he discovered that one was a worker who apparently fell to his death from a high perch, and another fellow was crushed to death from a milling stone in a bizarre, unexplained accident.

Note: Due to a botched legerdemain roll, I will also use Thedric’s Story Hook, “Roguish Persona” to create a problem

Who is the one that caught Thedric’s pick pocket attempt? teepee, starburst

Tengrym was still listening. Thoughtful, he decided to check out the granary that night. He turned to discuss with his half-brother, but found Thedric missing.

A sudden roar broke the festive nature of the tavern and intensified it into enthusiastic wagers. There was a brawl. Tengrym rolled his eyes until he saw that Thedric was the one being tossed across the room. A hulking barbaric mountain of a man stalked toward the young man’s landing point ready to finish him. Tengrym had no clue what his half-brother had done, but it had the potential for explosive disaster. Against his strongest instincts, Tengrym suppressed the urge to intervene on his brother’s behalf until it was clear he couldn’t handle the situation.

Barbaric Mercenary

Qualities: 10 ranks of irrelevant background qualities to round out ‘hit points’, Good [+2] Strong, Good [+2] Brawling, Good [+2] Tough

Thedric took a blow to the jaw that knocked him across a table, smashing it. Tengrym flinched and almost threw himself into the fray. However, the young man was on his feet in a second and smiling with his devious mischievous grin. He danced around, making the hulking figure work to get at him. The half-elf was anxious. He thought that the dancing would tire the mercenary out, but the giant tossed an intervening table out of the way and grabbed Thedric by the scruff, lifting him off his feet. Tengrym eyed as his brother filched some crockery from a nearby table. He smashed it over the big man’s head, but the warrior didn’t even flinch. Next, he drew one hand back and launched a fist. Thedric reeled and landed, not getting up. He was done for. Tengrym’s mind raced.

Does the barbarian press the attack? Yes, but… (takes his time, enjoying the cheers)

The giant lumbered slowly toward Thedric’s form. He circled slowly, grinning wolfishly at the many cheers and japes. Tengrym had no assurance that the brawler wouldn’t finish Thedric. Now was his only time to react. Drawing a pinch of sand from his pouch and an eyelash, he uttered an incantation. The giant went down into a snoring heap of flesh where he stood. Tengrym couldn’t help but smile to himself.

Does anyone notice the deception? Yes, and…* (a mob scene erupts)

*Twist: focus — toward thread (Discover if Scardale is the distribution point for the seed); meaning — crossroads, tent, daydream

However, things turned ill as a bystander nearby pointed to the half-elf and cried, “This one’s magicked Arlgoth dead!”

Tengrym’s smile abruptly vanished as the whole tavern turned on him and Thedric alike. Tengrym called across to his brother as he picked himself up off the floor. “Eyes!” …He only hoped Thedric had the presence of mind to prepare. A word of power, and a bright flash exploded in the room. Half of the crowd was blinded, leaving six or so grappling at the two brothers.

Thedric took another hit to the jaw and went down. Just as Tengrym was at a standstill, debating whether it not to turn back to him, he caught sight of a figure outside the door of the Tumbling Tankard. The half-elf was completely stunned by astonishment. There, outside, stood Shandorin. The disfigured half-elf stood idly, almost debating whether or not to enter. Their eyes met, and the villain darted away. Tengrym lunged after, but a fist caught hold of his collar and pulled him in for a punch.

It took Tengrym long moments to dislodge himself. He took two cracks to his jaw and one to his ribs before he landed his first. He was a better dancer and fencer, not cut out for simple brawling. When the last was knocked down, more came rushing. Another pinch of sand and the remaining fell to slumber.

Tengrym clambered over bodies and recovered his brother, slung his arm over his neck and supported his staggering form before escaping into the night.

Conclusion

CF: +1 (already maximum)

NPCs: Anoris Shandorin, Dark Elves, Thedric, Illistyl Elventree, the basilisk, Dynas Dundragon, Orlimpar Eveningfall, Arlgoth the Mighty

Threads: Find a new safe haven, Stop Shandorin’s plan, Hunt down Shandorin and challenge him in single combat

Scene 6

Setup: The two find a quiet place to regroup

CF: 4

Altered? Yes

Interpretation: the only place of refuge is another rowdy tavern

Are there no rooms available? Yes, but…* (they can make use of a private parlor…)

*Twist: focus — NPC negative (Thedric); meaning — nap time, magnet, thief

Interpretation: in the kerfuffle, someone robbed Thedric of all their remaining money!

A little further along Merchant’s Way and through some narrow side streets, the two came to The Dark Bard, if possible an even more rough-and-tumble establishment than The Tumbling Tankard. Thedric was in no shape for causing more trouble, at least that’s what Tengrym thought at the moment.

It was a packed madhouse. Tengrym had hoped to find a vacant room and deposit his half-brother for the time being while he went to the granary on Shandorin’s trail. However, all the rooms were packed full. Furthermore and even more vexing, when offered a private parlor, Tengrym reached into his brother’s pockets to pay finding them empty. Searching every pocket and pouch, they hadn’t a coin between them.

Robbed!

Hearing they had not a coin between them, the pair were asked to leave. With no other choices, Tengrym hauled his brother out.

Do they find a quiet darkened alley to rest? No, but… (the outskirts look promising)

Seeking any darkened corner to rest, the town was overrun by scoundrels and soldiery. There was no peace to be had. Tengrym did the only thing he could and beat a path to the outlying parts just beyond the town. The two found an abandoned barn in which to hole up.

Note: healing done

The two rested, and Thedric came out of his stupor moaning. “Serves you right,” said Tengrym in his best older brother knows best voice. “What were you thinking? While you were testing the rebound properties of the tavern’s many surfaces, I saw Shandorin. He knows we’re here.”

Thedric hung his head glumly as he massaged his aching jaw. “We needed money…”

“And now even more so…you were robbed during the whole affair.”

“Bashaba’s horns!” Thedric frantically groped himself in an effort to disprove Tengrym’s assertion. Sure enough, he had been robbed blind. Literally. “What do we do now?!”

Tengrym contemplated. “I’m not exactly sure. Part of me wants to involve the authorities…they should be warned. Time is now of the essence. Whatever plan Shandorin has, he will press it forward tenfold. He knows we are here…he guesses already what we know, but he doesn’t yet know if we’ve alerted anyone. He may play that hunch, in which case we are targets and things may get dangerous quickly.”

“I don’t know about you, but I already tasted some danger,” Thedric said, spitting out some blood.

Ignoring his half-brother’s statement, Tengrym continued. “Another part of me imagines that few of the fighting nations would listen to the fanciful story we have to tell.”

“No more foolishness!” said Tengrym assertively to himself, slapping a fist into his other hand. “We must act now. Go to the garrisons…tell any who will listen. Alert them about the possible plan and the danger at the granary and a possible dark elf presence. I’ll meet you there. You had best bring as many armed men as you can muster.”

Thedric made a sour face.

Tengrym turned and looked him square in the eye. “I’m counting on you not to mess this up. It could mean the fate of every man, woman, and child in the Dales and beyond. Now go!”

Conclusion

CF: -1

NPCs: Anoris Shandorin, Dark Elves, Thedric, Illistyl Elventree, the basilisk, Dynas Dundragon, Orlimpar Eveningfall, Arlgoth the Mighty

Threads: Find a new safe haven, Stop Shandorin’s plan, Hunt down Shandorin and challenge him in single combat

In conclusion, this was a really fun session. I love it when solo sessions leave me wanting more! That’s not so common a thing in solo games in my experience.

Happy New Year, all!