Scions of Ziklii

Time to dust off the old blog for a new play report.

Using the Jaws of the Six Serpents roleplaying game (the PDQ system) and the Nine Questions, the story follows standard Sword-and-Sorcery themes and is set in a post-apocalyptic world similar to that in Thundarr the Barbarian.

This actual play was written long ago. I have refreshed and tidied up some language. Sadly, this is not an AP containing much mechanical detail other than a few stat blocks which can be used as examples of character construction and enemies. Given a recent request for me to publish something featuring a PDQ rpg (Prose Descriptive Qualities), Jaws has remained one of my all time favorite table tops in the decade or more that it has been around. In my opinion, it has held up remarkably well of the years. I’m always of a mind that Jaws can always get more love from the gaming community, as can many of the great PDQ titles.

In a nutshell, players roll 2d6 adding the MODs of their relevant Qualities and compare to a static TN or against one another in the case of opposed rolls. The interesting thing is that characters take the margin in damage directly off of each Quality, reducing it in rank. When all ranks are zeroed out, the character is taken out. The first Quality damaged in a conflict generates a story hook which the GM (or solo player) can create additional personal interest, side quests, or additional richness to the story. Jaws characters are quite resilient, making them good candidates for solo gaming. They are killed when dramatically appropriate. Normally, a GM assigns one of three danger levels, meaning PCs are merely incapacitated, receive some lasting scar, or in the worst case (Doom) perish entirely.

The fantastic freeform magic system as well as a number of other great aspects make Jaws of the Six Serpents a great toolkit for all sorts of sword and sorcery goodness. It can model just about anything one can imagine easily. It is a very satisfying and complete game for such a lightweight selection.

Without further ado, meet our heroine:

Doria Nightraven

Dark-haired and pale-skinned, Doria is an attractive yet imposing figure. She hails from the forgotten north, a place few have seen, finding her way by virtue of the sword. She has served as bodyguard, mercenary, and adventurer.

Strengths.

• Good [+2] People: Survivalist
• Good [+2] Driver: Revenge Against the Wizards
• Good [+2] Faculty: Peak Level Athleticism
• Expert [+4] Swordplay
• Average [+0] Old Earth History
• Good [+2] Quick as a Cat
• Good [+2] Willful as the Devil
• Average [+0] Charm: A Way with Crows*

Weaknesses.

• Poor [-2] Unnerving Presence

Fortune Points: 1
Learning Points: 0
Props: Average [0] dirk, Average [0] broadsword

* This Charm ability allows Doria to have an affinity with these feathered creatures, and may summon a group upon need to confuse, bewilder, or for diversion.

PARTICULARS

Thematic Anchor: “Survival of the Strongest…”
Heroic Motivation: Track down Amalfus the Many-Eyed

PRELUDE

Ziklii, a great city amid a sea of barren waste – a haven for scum of all corners of Earth and a capitol of decadence and villainy. Scions hid ages-long within their citadels twisted by mutations, and self-proclaimed lords entertained themselves with spectacles of blood and gore.

Here was the perfect place for Doria Nightraven of the forgotten north to hunt her prey. Few other locales harbored as many wizards as Ziklii. Here she would finally mete out justice.

She strolled the filthy squalor-stricken streets. Dressed in a harness and rough leathers of black and with knee-high riding boots, she was a formidable sight of predatory prowess and wild beauty. The pommel of a leather-wrapped hilt extended above one shoulder and a dagger at her side foretold of her profession. The few scars on her white skin and fierce preserved beauty vouched for her talent.

She scanned the vermin of the street through hard emerald green eyes. Here she would find a place to hunt and kill, and perhaps she might also find reward. It was said that here in Ziklii, the Jewel of the Seven Wastes, Amalfus the Many-Eyed was said to lair. Doria the warrior-woman would soon know.

1. Procession on the Way of Serpents

An enemy pursues new goals and takes aggressive action against unsuspecting victims.

Doria had made it a habit to haunt the Way of Serpents, a narrow thoroughfare that led through the poorest sections of the city from the south gate to the arena. She observed a steady traffic of travelers, traders, robed priests, and mercenaries. However, today, she observed a procession of unlikely folk – vagabonds, smiths, cart wrights, as well as folk without respectable trades. They were chained and escorted by armed men, following a litter borne by four slaves, its occupant shrouded behind silk screens.

Doria assumed their ultimate destination of the arena. Folk lined the narrow street crying their cheers and taunts. However, those jeers soon quieted as news spread that this poor lot was destined for a different, less glamorous, and gruesome fate.

Doria took a step closer out of the shadows. She tried to descry the occupant in the litter. A fat purplish hand was all she could see, but that was more than enough to confirm her suspicions. The only mutants to be treated as kings were sorcerers. Suddenly, the she-warrior had a vivid scene playing out in her head. A hand strayed to her sword hilt.

None paid her any attention as they all watched the procession in a mournful mood full of pity and loathing. The sorcerer’s escort also paid her no heed. If she were to strike, she would have but a momentary advantage against such numbers. No, it was better to wait and see. Instead, she blended into the crowd and followed at a safe distance.

The procession continued, and Doria remained close.

2. The Leaping Lurker

An encounter features intrigue and pursuit.

As Doria shadowed the train, high above on the rooftops a shadowy shape darted from edge to edge, keenly observing the she-warrior’s progress. A darkened hood shadowed the figure’s features. When it encountered an alley or roadway, it leapt across the gap like a grasshopper, impossibly high and impossibly fast.

Golem (Minion Construct)

These appear as artificial humanoids of any variety of shapes, sizes, and colors. Many are given some form of intelligence through sorcery.

Strengths.

• Average [+0] Intelligence
• Expert [+4] Damage Resistance*
• Expert [+4] Leaps Like a Grasshopper
• Good [+2] Observant
• Good [+2] Strength
• Good [+2] Skill with Blades

Weaknesses.

• Poor [-2] Aversion To Water

Intent on the group before her as they neared their destination, Doria was oblivious to the threat from above.

The figure continuing to follow the follower, observing her every move. Ahead, the procession turned onto Wizard’s Way and passed into the desolate quarter where the sorcerers of Ziklii roosted. Before them stood a towering monstrosity built from the ruins of Earth’s past — a massive half-buried craft of some sort — a skyship made of metal overgrown with hanging vines. Under its considerable girth the group disappeared.

3. Confrontation with a Construct

An encounter features revelation and combat.

Doria was watching and waiting and weighing her options, when a dark shape dropped not far from her side. A figured swathed in a dark cloak rose to slightly taller than man height. Its form had gangly proportions. In a bound, it leapt to arm’s length from the warrior woman, and the hood fell to reveal a gaunt inhuman face fashioned from metal or some other pliable substance. Glowing yellow eyes evaluated her coldly.

“None are to enter the warrens of the sorcerers,” it said with a cold metallic voice. Then it lunged forward to grasp the warrior.

The fierce independence flared in Doria’s heart as the threat made itself known. She rolled away, coming clear and sweeping out her longsword with a steely skirl. She eyed the inhuman thing, repulsed by its unnatural appearance.

“You will not take me!” she promised.

The creature leapt forward again, drawing out its own blade, and battle was joined. Doria brought her guard up. She was quick as lightning, and after a few exchanges, she took advantage of an opening, slashing through the creature’s abdomen. The blow should have felled an ox, but the attacker became jarred from hitting something solid. The thing’s eyes flashed in momentary astonishment. She had obviously hurt it, but she wasn’t sure she did more damage than the hurt she felt in her arm.

The two fought like wildcats, exchanging places in the blink of an eye and moving like perfectly synchronized dancers. Where the creature moved with effective but stiff motion, Doria moved with sinuous grace. She found a few more openings, and each managed to pierce the thing’s exoskeleton, though it should have slain a veteran warrior thrice over. The creature managed to score a minor touch, and a cut bled about the warrior’s left shoulder.

The animation leapt back several strides. It made strange whining and whirring sounds. It was clearly agitated by its nervous movements and the flashing of its eyes. It looked up, and vaulted impossibly high, disappearing about the rooftops.

4. A Way Into the Fortress

Doria took a moment to catch her breath, watching for signs of the leaping construct. Seeing none, she returned her eyes to the hulking Old Earth vessel draped with growth. By now, her presence must have been noticed.

Sword still in hand, she stood poised ready to charge ahead. She looked to the air. Not far, several crows roosted around the square bickering noisily. Doria put a hand to her mouth and called out in a shrill voice. Immediately the birds stirred and took to the air. The squawking mass of birds circled and then darted in the opening after the procession that had disappeared. Doria was no longer where she had been a moment earlier.

In the shadows under the ruined aircraft’s girth, Doria crouched and allowed her eyes to adjust. She scanned the surroundings as the noisy ravens circled above. She saw no sentinels. Instead, there stood a massive seal of metal that led to the interior of the citadel.

Doria needed little confirmation to know that the massive portal was locked. She was learned in some issues of Old Earth History — the thousands of years before the coming of mutants, the sundering of the seas, and the breaking of the moon when humanity was at its height. Much science came from this early time, though few, except the sorcerers and cult orders, knew their operation or secrets.

She stood and approached the door. Examining it, she realized science clearly was the mechanism, but its operation or trigger was beyond her ken. She backed away. She would need to find an alternate entrance.

She left the fortress’s threshold and circled around, seeking another point of entry. She found another place — a sheer climb among hanging tendrils of orange and red vegetation. Among these she began to climb hand over hand. High up she clambered. At the top, she found a terrace of sorts and crept in.

5. An Alarm Triggered

An encounter of betrayal.

As soon as Doria set foot within, a loud blaring scream bleated at even intervals with red and yellow flashing lights from old refurbished instruments. Down a corridor from her present chamber, she heard the approach of footsteps and yells by sentinels.

Rather than run, Doria again drew her blade from behind her back and set herself ready to meet any challenge. She set herself against the wall beside the corridor and listened for the enemy’s approach. She waited until their panting and boot steps were close, then she leapt out, sword at the ready.

• Good [+2] Mutant Guards (eight in total)

Furiously, Doria slashed and hacked, dropping one purple-skinned mutant and then another. There were eight in total, and they were relentless. The warrior-woman parried a jarring blow that numbed her shoulder, and another opened a nasty wound high on her left thigh. She kept fighting, and now the guards had to climb over three bodies to get at the intruder. Doria had to give up ground, and the remaining five warriors swarmed in around her. Yet, she kept them at bay.

She spun and whirled in her circle, striking and parrying. Sweat matted her dark hair to her face, and now there was blood along her arm — she had no idea if it was hers or not, but she fought on. Now, only three remained.

“Go warn the wizard!” one called out.

The two remaining cornered the wildcat to allow their companion to retreat. Doria was further enraged, and pressed her attack in an unbridled display of reckless fury. A growl of sorts escaped her lips as she leapt forward.

Two fell back and couldn’t defend against the ferocity and went down with screams. Doria leapt over the bodies and slashed at the remaining guard before the fool had a chance to turn and flee. The warrioress took in gulps of air as she surveyed the carnage around her. However, she delayed herself no more.

6. Battle in the Throne Room

A do-or-die encounter featuring combat.

The corridor led along a dimly lit grated way. Ahead, it opened to a wider area. As Doria traversed it, she realized that the passage continued to become a catwalk above some larger storage area. She came within a few steps. Suddenly, a steel door slid shut behind her and more warning sirens went off.

She was trapped in the open, and numerous bright lights were aimed in her direction. There was nowhere to go but forward. When she stepped in the open space, she heard warning shouts. Looking down, she was in some large place of congregation. Dozens of guards stood in a circle around the shackled folk that had been recently ushered within. All eyes were on Doria.

Near to them was a throne of sorts. Atop it sat a robed figure. He wore strange multi-colored robes. He was bald with long blue whiskers hanging from his jowls to his lap. Looking up at Doria, she swore she could see what appeared to be red glowing dots about his eyes. There could be no doubt that this was Amalfus the Many-Eyed.

The sorcerer yelled an order and the guards immediately turned to Doria with crossbows at the ready.

Doria thought quickly. Ahead, the catwalk continued to another corridor system. That, too, was closed. On the opposite wall, numerous cables and counterbalances hung to the floor below. There was only one escape — to the floor below.

The she-warrior charged across as arrows rained about her from the floor below. She was struck twice, one missile grazing her shoulder and one sticking painfully in her thigh. She fought stoically through the pain and took cover across the way behind a blind. She sheathed her sword again behind her back and broke off the shaft of the arrow feathering her leg.

Next, she vaulted over the catwalk rail, grabbed a handful of hanging line, and swung down. She landed hard, but on her feet in a crouch like a cat. Standing, she drew her sword again and waded into battle.

All at once, the score of guards drew their own axes and spears and descended upon Doria in droves. From behind, Amalfus got up from his seat and made a hasty exit down a darkened rear passage.

Bleeding with the wicked and terrible mask of the angel of death, Doria choreographed a sinuous and deadly dance. Wherever her blade flashed, screams and spraying blood erupted. The screams of the terrified captives created a panic and all chaos broke loose.

• There are 11 Average [0] Warriors

Doria waded in. Those wielding bows could no longer make effective use of them. In close quarters, the she-warrior’s broadsword and her honed skill cleaved through the ranks until there were none left standing to oppose her. Any remaining fled along with the captives despite their encumbering chains. Doria hefted her blade, but faced no new challenge.

Suddenly, more sirens blared and more guards approached. Doria fled, covered in blood and possessed with a vengeful blood rage that could no longer be quelled.

7. The Wizard’s Demon

A scene featuring pursuit.

Doria ducked down the narrow corridor through which the wizard fled. Her pain, fear, and weariness were all gone, hidden behind a screen of revenge and bloodlust, fueling her with an endless well of energy. Her goal was near at hand!

Doria stopped midway along the dark corridor. The air felt close and something unseen threatened with unknown and unreasonable terror. She felt that something was in the passage with her.

Ahead, she could descry nothing in the darkness. There was only a deeper black in the deepening shadows ahead. Something blotted out all light, and all hope with it. She heard a snort through large lungs. The breath of something caressed her blood-caked cheek, smelling of death itself. Then she felt the thing step and the floor trembled. It was followed by another tremble and another in increasing tempo. The thing charged her and let out a hideous roar like the chorus of the damned.

Guardian Demon (Demon Ape)

This is a relatively modest threat from the nearer reaches, suitable for a sorcerer to call forth from behind the wall hangings when confronted by fairly new player characters. (It’s based on the giant ape in Fierce beasts.) It appears like a huge ape with night-black hair and red eyes.

Strengths.

• Master [+6] Strong
• Expert [+4] Tough
• Good [+2] Fierce
• Good [+2] Keen Senses
• Good [+2] Climbing
• Good [+2] Camouflage in Darkness
• Average [+0] Shocking Appearance*
• Average [+0] Darksense*

Doria turned and ran again with all her former vengeful ire turning to fear. She heard something terrible coming up behind her impossibly fast and unstoppable. She could almost feel the thing’s ghastly heat.

She returned to the great room, again teeming with guards. She leapt to her hands and knees at the foot of an exultant guard poised to strike. However, the mutant noted the approaching horror and the expression on his face melted from joy to terror.

Leaping over Doria and slamming into the guard, a huge muscular black shape exploded from the tunnel with a terrifying force and a bloodcurdling scream louder than an army’s war cry.

Panic scattered the folk in the room again with even greater effect than Doria had achieved before. Guards and slaves alike trampled one another to get free of the charging fiend. A monster stood in the center shrieking and spreading great arms as thick as tree trunks which ended in muscular talons. A black devil stood there exulting in its tremendous dark power. It looked like a great black ape, but larger, bulging with exaggerated corded muscles. Its fur was blacker than jet or any known color known by mortals as black. Its eyes were red like burning brimstone — pinpoints of light that looked into the depths of hell.

[after a contest of chasing, Doria resists the thing’s shocking appearance]

The thing turned toward Doria who was momentary frozen by fear. The thing charged, scattering furnishings in its stampede. Doria sucked in a breath and readied herself, girded in honor and courage that somehow welled to the surface at the moment it was needed.

The she-warrior slashed with perfect timing, and rolled to avoid massive limbs that could fell an old oak. She straightened up as the thing rushed past to explode into a furnace, sending pieces of metal and ash through the air. A trail of oil-like liquid marked the horror’s passage.

Doria quickly readied herself for another charge, taking a stance and gripping her sword hilt two handed and shading her eyes with its dripping naked length. She set herself in grim anticipation. The thing appeared beyond the settling debris and charged again.

This time, the sword was batted aside and the monster bore down on its singular and seemingly overwhelmed prey. Doria strove with the unholy beast, tangling like two beasts. She danced with it, striking with hot steel while deadly strong talons slashed in return.

Neither was able to score the final death blow, until Doria gave up ground. With an opening between them, the ape demon pressed for one last charge. This time, Doria did not rely on cat like agility, but instead braced for the attack. She set her blade against an iron girder ultimately impaling the beast through the heart. Knocked back by the force, she was awed as the creature backed away, bubbling with gouts of black viscous fluid. It screamed a mighty challenge, but the fight was not yet fully beaten from it.

Again it closed, but its energy was lessened. Doria was the quicker and finally scored the final touch. The creature fell with a scream, and its form melted away to nothingness.

Stunned, Doria examined herself to find that she was uninjured by the experience, though highly wearied.

8. The Fall of Amalfus the Many-Eyed

A final showdown in which the enemy nears completion of his goals and takes aggressive action against unsuspecting victims.

Amalfus the Many-Eyed

Strengths.

• Expert [+4] Genius Intellect
• Good [+2] Arcane Knowledge
• Good [+2] Seeks Unimaginable Power
• Expert [+4] Sorcerer*
• Good [+2] Old Earth History
• Good [+2] Disciplined

Weaknesses.

• Poor [-2] Insane
• Poor [-2] Arrogant

Props. Expert [+2] Ruby, Good [+2] Sack of Gold, Average [0] Dagger

Doria flew down the darkened corridor. She came to a medium-sized round room. The middle of the room sank with a few steps. A grate of steel with a single door screened the inner portion from the outer. The door was closed and locked.

Steel Cage

Strengths.

• Master [+6] Strong
• Good [+2] Locked
• Good [+2] Reinforced

Beyond the gate, five men and women were strapped to chairs, struggling against their restraints. They screamed in horror. Most were attached to some strange apparatus festooned with connecting hoses and cords. One by one, Amalfus attended to the apparatus and each victim. At the very center was some sort of construct that hummed with energy and buzzed with flickering lights.

Doria tried the gate, but it was locked fast. At that point, the sorcerer turned, his red eyes aflame with evil delight.

“The sword wench!” he said. “You’re too late to save these folk. Soon, they will be dead and I will absorb great power and turn back the sands of time!”

Doria looked on the folk from behind the fence with honest compassion. Her true goal, however, was not one of liberation, but one of vengeance. Now, behind the fence she felt helpless.

“You’re mad, Amalfus!” she proclaimed.

“You have me at a loss,” the sorcerer replied. “You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are. It matters little! Soon you will be dead, and I as hale as a young lad!”

“You are wrong, sorcerer! I am Doria Nightraven of the forgotten north, where it was that you and your consortium destroyed villages, killed and enslaved my kin! It is you that shall be dead!”

With that, Doria kicked in the gate with astonishing strength and ferocity. The sound reverberated loudly like a great drum.

By the second hard kick, steel mesh began to give way, and the post securing the fence bent noticeably.

“Impossible!” muttered Amalfus.

The sorcerer interrupted his work and began chanting. His hands worked strange gestures and shapes above his head. Slowly, a mote of light appeared in the air between his hands and began to dance. Something went amiss, for whatever reason. He doubled over in pain.

Doria counted her blessing and kicked again. With her persistence, the lock finally gave way. Doria drew her sword and stalked in, the promise of death on her grim features. Amalfus stepped back in fear as the approaching bloodstained apparition approached.

Then, the sorcerer’s eyes widened in elation. “Ah, Golgon!”

Doria followed the sorcerer’s gaze. She turned suddenly to face the strange leaping robed thing she had battled before entering the fortress. The creature leapt forward with steel in its hand. Doria had but a moment to prepare her defenses.

Steel skirled as the two intertwined in a ferocious melee. The construct countered Doria thrust for thrust. The few openings she had, she seemed not to make a dint in the yellow-eyed thing. In the meanwhile, Amalfus started his incantation anew. Moments passed and still, there seemed no immediate end to the exchange with Golgon.

[here, Doria used the Digging Down Deep option, converting learning points to fortune points and the Hell for Leather option to save the day]

Doria knew her doom was upon her. The sorcerer crescendoed, rising in pitch in anticipation of the powerful magic’s release. In desperation, the warrioress withdrew to the far corner of the cage. In one fluid motion, she drew her dirk and flicked it at the sorcerer. She pivoted back to the creature just in time to parry another blow.

The dagger flew end over end, striking Amalfus square in the chest. His look was open-mouthed, one of complete shock. The hilt protruded from his breast, with a dark wet blotch quickly spreading on his multi-colored garb.

At that moment, the green-yellow magical field above his head collapsed. The light engulfed him and his skin began to smolder and char. A horrified scream escaped his lips, and slowly, his form sank in a convulsing shiver of pain and anguish. No sooner had the sorcerer hit the floor when his form melted, leaving only his bloodied, steaming garments.

Simultaneously, the magical construct collapsed and exploded into miniature metallic parts and gizmos. Doria shielded her face from the blast with her arm.

9. Escape from Jewel of the Seven Wastes

Doria freed the captives of Amalfus and drove off the remaining guards. She found a number of jewels and gold on the befouled remnants of the sorcerer’s trappings. However, Ziklii was one of the few great cities full of many more wizards than only Amalfus the Many-Eyed. Simply ridding the place of one evil magician in a foolishly reckless, albeit equally unpredictable raid would do little to impress lasting change the world. The menace of the city’s rulers arose quickly.

Doria took a disguise and hastened from the city, buying a gray destrier with some of her loot. The city would harbor her no safety. Only in the wilds beyond the wastes would she afford herself a chance of survival — and even then only by her own skill and wit against overwhelming odds. And so she fled, wandering through barrens and old roads, avoiding travelers and mongrel men. Her loot, including a dazzling ruby — worthy of a king’s ransom — was quickly sold, its gold depleted, so that she had almost none remaining within a moon.

But wander alone among the ravens she had to, until the next opportunity to rid the world of another sorcerer presented itself…

“Elves’ Dirty Work”, final part

Continued from here, we have the final part of Kingon's first (and possibly last) adventure...

The 9Q’s: Questions 7-9

Q7. The Elvish Council

Focus (PC initiated): defiance

Where? Mosshollow

Imewar was very displeased to see Kingon. And for the third time, the young half-elf warrior surrendered his weapons. However, he refused to be blinded, arguing that he had found them in the first place. Perhaps that is why they were not sure how to decide his fate and why they brought him again to the elf lord.

After hearing Kingon’s excited and winded tale, the elf lord said, “And I am expected to believe such a farce?”

“Believe or disbelieve, at you leisure,” replied Kingon in the best elvish he could muster (he might have mixed up the fairly complex cases — but the gist was there). “Sit here and scoff at me, if you like…until that thing shows up to destroy your habitat.”

“Why would a demon show up here?” asked Imewar.

“Because it was following me,” answered Kingon with a smirk of satisfaction. “I see no other plan than to stand and fight, or pack up and flee. Your game with the goblins — your mistreatment and cruelty to them by whatever you have done — may end up dooming your people.” (miss)

“Twice you have insulted me, and twice you have been spared a worse fate. Leave now!” When Kingon didn’t immediately move, being shocked at the elf lord’s proud rejection of impending doom, Imewar called out to his guards.

“I will leave…” interrupted Kingon.

“Never to return!” amended Imewar.

“Yes…just give me my weapons and point me the way to the dale. I must go if I can and warn the folk there. May the gods have mercy upon you…”

Kingon was expelled from Mosshollow. He knew then and there that should another meeting ever take place, Imewar would be merciless and unforgiving.

Kingon set a course for the dales through the quickest route told to him (crit). Again, his speed and endurance could not be measured against any such feat before. He emerged from the wood, crying out in alarm for the people to ready themselves.

Q8. The Battle of Battledale

The Dramatic Finish: kookily lacking, punish home

Where? the village in the vicinity of Battledale

Focus: the enemy takes aggressive action against the heroes and unsuspecting victims

Does the demon have minions? No

Kingon crashed headlong through the woods, coming to a clearing near one of the northern hamlets of Battledale. He cried out, arms flailing in the air as he ran. Behind him followed his black feline.

“Fight! Fire! Flight!” he called, mustering all of his urgency (miss).

Some of the Dalesfolk, who were by nature generally fiercely independent and wary, watched the half-elf dance around like an idiot with some cynicism and a dash of humor.

“Send word! Call the village warriors! Run! Tell everyone to be ready — a fell beast comes!” he called.

No one moved… that is until the first sounds of the monster crashing through the woods came followed by a bloodcurdling shriek of rage. Some of the treetops in the distance quivered, some smoldered as the flaming monster lit bramble and foliage alight. Then, the few villagers who witnessed the coming ran in all directions wildly, shrieking cries of despair and panic.

Then the monster emerged, a towering bipedal horror of bone and flame. The monster threw its head back and shrieked yet again, sending a pall of terror among the folk.

Making a withdrawal, Kingon put arrow to bowstring, drew to ear and let loose (crit). Several arrows flew directly at the beast, feathering it here and there. The monster howled again in pain and then tumbled recklessly forward at a speed that belied its immense girth and height.

This immediately put Kingon into a run (partial). By near margins, he avoided being trampled by the monster, but was not many paces ahead of the thing. Even now, the demon reached down with an arcing swing of an elongated, taloned arm. Kingon sensed the impending doom, broke his run and abruptly rolled to the side (miss). Few could have withstood a minor strike from a major demon from the depths of the abyss. The blow knocked the young half-elf senseless, and blackness shut out the world.

Beyond the realms of the living were the many shades of the dead. In it center was the kingdom of death himself. Kingon was freed of his body and now stood before the lord of death. He was judged, and it was not surprising for death to know well of his coming (partial), but the final chapter in the land of the living was not yet come. And so, through the layers of the nonliving he was sent back...

Q9. The Nightmare

Where Does the World Stand? innocently drab, judge legal

Does someone encounter Kingon and restore him to health? Yes

Who? lovingly lacking, haggle mundane

What deal does death make? defiantly tranquil, fight weather

Kingon awoke in a none too comfortable bed — little more than a bolster and rushes. There was some acrid odor, hot stifling air, and the sound of something bubbling. When he opened his eyes, he saw an old crone leaning over him. However exceptionally ugly she was, he knew without a doubt that this woman had saved his life.

Glancing down, he noted he was stripped of his things and thoroughly bandaged with some exposed patches of badly burned skin revealed. Drawing a breath was agony. He had been leveled by a single swipe of the monster and left for dead.

Almost as if reading his thoughts, the old woman said, “You should have died, you should! Ah, but I see you are awake. Here, sip this…”

She brought a cup to his lips and poured slowly. He recoiled with disgust. A hot, revolting concoction slowly made its way down his throat.

“Ugh! What is that stuff?!”

“Best you not know, dearie,” cackled the woman.

“What happened?”

“Ah, the demon!” the woman exclaimed.

The memory and the horror came back all at once. She described how the thing tore into the village, slaying many and leveling many of the homes and buildings. The creature continued a course south through Featherdale. Where it went next, was anyone’s guess.

“Don’t you worry, dearie! Some wizard will likely vanquish the thing, and banish it to the hells from whence it came,” the woman cackled. “You had quite some dreams while you were out.”

Then, the memories came back, if vaguely. “I remember seeing Him.”

“Him? Ah, the dark soul reaver!”

Kingon did not reveal the next part, but he remembered. His time was not yet to come, because there was work yet to do. A startling revelation came to him then, that all mortals were witless agents of death in some form or fashion. He remembered seeing the image of a man — a dark, evil worker of the Storm Lord. He realized this was probably a priest of Talos. He knew not his name, but the face was indelibly burned into his memory.

His reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. A dark bearded man entered. It was the elected chancellor of the dale, a rather honorary title given to a representative to the annual moots of the dales.

“Ilmeth,” the man introduced curtly. He bore several burns and scars. No doubt he was involved with battling the monster. The man had come to ask questions about the origins of the monster and of the half-elf’s involvement.

Kingon related all his story — although he had not wanted to harm Imewar’s people or escalate tensions between the elves and the men of the dales, he felt it was his duty to tell the honest truth. So he did, the entirety of it.

When he had finished, Ilmeth said, “Well, we will have to check on that. I will have our foresters go to the woods to track the beast. I will also alert the Abbey of the Sword. If there is trouble with the elves, they will increase patrols and provide protection for the people.”

It sounded innocuous enough, but somehow, Kingon didn’t like the sound of it. He was disappointed when he asked Ilmeth about whether the elves had shown up to help fight the demon. Apparently they had not. Kingon was inclined to be judgmental, but then stayed his thoughts, not knowing what their story was. Were they killed? Did they go into deeper hiding?

Without a penny to his name, the half-elf did not worry about surviving. In the wild he could take care of himself, and there were always odd jobs to which his sword could lend aid. However, he was indebted to the old woman. He could not pay in the form of money, but he could help her by gathering herbs for her potions and other odd ends fix her dilapidated hut. When he had gained some strength, he helped many survivors rebuild their homes, or at least prepare a suitable temporary shelter.

He had made friends with the woman, and learned her name was Clarisa, a hermit and outcast of the village. That suited Kingon just fine too, because he preferred her peculiar company over the more inquisitive and prying village folk.

In a matter of days, Ilmeth checked in again on Kingon, and reported that his woodsmen had indeed found the goblin village and found signs of witchcraft that explained the demon’s appearance. Kingon was essentially cleared from Ilmeth’s suspicions.

When Kingon had mended enough, it was time for him to go. He thanked Clarisa many times. She also gave him supplies for his journeys. He had at least one friend in the dales. He enjoyed their time together, and even Shadow had come to appreciate the woman’s company. But, the half-elf could not stay in one place for too long. He and Shadow bid their farewells and moved on.

THE END.

A fun little game! This was one of the first ones I could complete in one sitting — though the editing and filling some details took time. I will continue this one in as many scenarios as continues to provide myself some amusement. Using World of Dungeons (or a variation of it), I’d like to try advancing the hero through a few levels.

I’ve included other notes below:

Bestiary

Here is the form in which I created NPC stat blocks. Each has some hit points, gear, and a few keywords that may inspire some moves. Generally, light weapons do d6 damage up to d6+2 for a great weapon. Something truly potent might have 2d6+2 to 3d6+3.

GREATER DEMON. 17hp (Kingon’s volley crit took it down to 11), giant fists, trample, wreathing flames, armor 2. Skeletal horror of the lower planes. Terrifying shriek. Set aflame. Huge.

FOREST ELF. 4HP, sword, bow, light armor (counts as none). Wilderness. Stealthy. Resistant to sleep and charms. Intelligent. Ambush tactics. Elf-magic.

GOBLIN SNIPER. 2hp, long knife, short bow. Dirty inhuman thieves from the woods. Volley from afar. Craven in solitary numbers. Dirty tricks. Hit their own number.

GOBLIN RAIDER. 3hp, long knife or hand axe, shield. Dirty inhuman thieves from the woods. Pack tactics. Craven in solitary numbers. Dirty tricks.

Character Advancement

I use a more DW approach to XP, gaining marks mostly through failure. Kingon's tallied 8XP from failure, and one for acting “good” in light of sacrificing himself to try to protect the town. That’s enough to boost him to level 2, which raises his horrible hp total to 9.

And there was much rejoicing...

For his next adventure, Kingon signs up for a low-paying caravan gig, and things quickly go awry.

“Elves’ Dirty Work”, part 2

Continued from here, Kingon finds himself weaponless again, now at the hands of the goblins. His adventure continues in part 2...

The 9Q’s: Questions 4-6

Q4. The Encampment

Focus (PC initiated): infiltration

Where? lovingly juvenile, freely rough (magic mirror, surprised face, from RSC)

When Kingon had gathered his strength, he began to investigate his surroundings. He found himself near the placid waters of a forest lake. It was hilly and rocky, making his way difficult in the going. He became aware of sounds as he scouted.

Climbing to a high ridge, he came to the edge of a narrow gorge from which plumes of smoke rose from what appeared to be cooking fires. He was shocked to see a goblin encampment, out in the broad daylight underneath the sky. This was highly unusual behavior, but at least the canopy of the forest gave them some protection from the sun from which they usually hid themselves.

GM’s Reaction: swiftly feeble, lie legal (goblin, full sack, from RSC)

Suddenly from behind came a pathetic sound. Kingon turned swiftly, drawing his blades. Before him was a young goblin whelp. The half-elf was no judge of goblin age, but he might guess the youngling was but a year or two old. The grubby creature held out an empty hand, while pointing toward the ranger’s pouches with the other. The creature was obviously starving and begging for a handout. Even with his blades drawn ready to deal death and his mighty jaguar not far away, the pathetic creature came forward, driven by its baser need to survive.

Even though the creature’s cry might draw the entire tribe, spelling certain death, Kingon could not bring it upon himself to kill the thing. He put away his blades and showed instead his pouch, which he turned inside out. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m sorry! I don’t have anything.”

The creature began to cry. Kingon also had not much experience with the incredible volume a tiny young goblin could make. Wet sobs carried through the forest. The ranger tried to coo the child, making overtures of peace. However, the thing turned and walked away, clutching some decaying rag thing that must have served as it’s teddy bear.

At once, Kingon was surrounded by dozens of warriors and many bows were trained at him. Shadow, having sensed their approach was already nowhere to be seen. Then, either brave or stupid, the half-elf unbuckled his sword belt and dropped his bow, holding his arms out in a gesture of peace. He was going to surrender.

Do they kill him on sight? No

Kingon was handled far from gently, although they didn’t kill him on the spot, which was a good thing. Whatever pity had stayed his hand with the child, he was now beginning to doubt the wisdom of that judgment. How in the nine hells was he going to get out of this one?

Q5. The Summoning

Gains Undermined: neatly lovely, punish travel (howling wolf, from RSC)

Focus: revelation

Kingon was ushered down into the gorge through winding and narrow paths. As he walked, he was prodded by spear tip as well as obviously obscene goblin profanities. Here were the women and children of the tribe. Many huddled together around fires, observing the half-elf through wide, astonished eyes.

As they continued their way, Kingon could descry a central place in the village around a huge fire where many of the tribal warrior and elders were at work. A particularly old gentle-goblin bedecked in feathers, paint, and an assortment of bone charms observed the ritual, adding every now and then a punctuating syllable or command, throwing various colored powders into the fire which flared brightly and disappeared. It was obviously some sort of ceremony — however judging by the many goblin faces, it was not a joyous one. He noted many of the villagers’ stolen heirlooms near the fire. Every once in a while the shaman would reach down and toss one of those in the circle as well.

“I don’t wish to harm anyone!” said Kingon, to which he was answered with a sharp needle to the rear from a spear. “Is there anyone in this damn village that speaks the common tongue?!”

The same reply came, this time fiercer.

Not far away, he was bound behind his back and fastened to an old dead tree. However, he had a great vantage point to the spectacle. He watched as the ritual grew frenzied. Though he did not understand the nature of it, he began to understand that it was not merely goblin superstition — within the flames, a deeper darker color began to swallow the yellow and orange of the outer flames. Within was a black globe that slowly grew. Within the blackness, there became a second growing fire within — The half-elf could only describe what he saw something unholy.

Does anyone address him? No

It seems hours went by and darkness fell, with a full moon rising on the horizon. Still the ritual continued, now growing to a fevered climax. And Kingon could only continue to watch.

With nothing else to do but observe, he studied their movements and timing (partial). In Shadowdale, Kingon observed many rituals, for there were many spell casters in the dale. Magic was never his forte. However, he could recognize a summoning circle when he saw one. This one, drawing off of the energy of the revelers as well as the magical skill of the village shaman, caused this circle to be extremely potent judging by its size and sustained growth.

At the witching hour, the ritual was complete and the globe of unholy darkness took on a life of its own.

Does the circle overwhelm the controllers? Yes

What comes out of the circle? looks like anxiously dry; does overindulge innocent

The shaman and the village warriors observed with hypnotic fascination as the thing grew and lifted off the ground. From it’s darkest depths came a skeletal face. Many scattered astonished cries and moans skip the lips of the observing village. The skeletal face hit the edges — the boundaries — of the encapsulating sphere. Like a balloon, those boundaries flexed outward, expanding to accept the giant skull of the otherworldly thing that was now trying to escape.

Kingon knew this was a horrible disaster in the making, and if he did not escape now, he would die not at the hands of the goblins, but by those of some demonic thing that was ready to be released.

During the interim time he spent observing the ritual, he had surreptitiously worked some of his bindings loose around his wrists. Now is the time for escape (miss). However, instead of a stealthy escape, the old gnarled branches to which he was fastened snapped loudly, drawing attention from the entire village… as well as the horror now escaping from the globe.

Kingon did not linger to study the reaction of the village, taking off at a run.

Are his weapons within visual range? No

Do the village runners pursue? No

Does the thing attack the villagers? Exceptional Yes (doubles)

Does Kingon come across his belongings? Yes

Kingon tore through the foliage at top speed, stooping only to fetch his two blades and bow as he saw them lying near a hut. From behind came an enormously terrifying screech that filled the entire forest. Other screams of agonized villagers followed as well as a tremendous crashing. The demon had been released and was feasting itself on the unwitting and unfortunate souls responsible for summoning it.

Q6. The Charge

Escalation: healthily large, expose rumor (elephant, key, from RSC)

Focus: pursuit

Kingon flew through the forest, quietly calling for Shadow. The sound from behind grew to unthinkable proportions. Above the treetops, a now flaming tusked skeletal humanoid rose. The thing was taller by a wide margin than Elminster’s tower back in Shadowdale. The earth trembled as the monster took flight on the ranger’s trail.

Kingon pushed the limits of his endurance (partial). Eventually, the terrifying sounds of the giant otherworldly monster disappeared in the distance, but now he was hopelessly lost — even if he was lost already!

He knew he had to make his way to some community to give warning before the monster would come through. Be it man or elf, it did not matter.

It was desperate, but he had to find Imewar’s people, and fast! (hit)

Stay tuned for part 3...

Back! And A New Play Report

I'm back...for how long, we'll see. I had a nice holiday, but RL burnout caught up with me...in a big way. When I have had time, I haven't had much in the way of motivation. So, I did something I rarely do, and took a mental health day. It was glorious and led to something else I rarely do: play an entire solo scenario in one — well — nearly one sitting.

I've also had a chance over the break to enjoy reading and experimenting with Tana Pigeon's new addition, The Location Crafter. I see it's still up at #7 on drivethrurpg even weeks after its launch. That sounds like a good sign. If you haven't checked it out, I highly recommend it. A great way to approach site-exploring (or just location-based scene rpg'ing in general) for the GM as well as the soloist. There's a complete solo rpg engine right in there.

“Sending Goblins To Do Elves’ Dirty Work”

For my little delve, I resurrected an old character one of my friends created for a GM + 1 player game we did (if you don't know my thoughts on reviving old concepts and characters, read my Ghosts of Gaming Past post). This was a youthful time when we had read lots of R.A. Salvatore, as you will see.

Also, for the sake of nostalgia, I used a version of John Harper's World of Dungeons spinoff of the Dungeon World system to give it an old school feel (even though it's very new school). I mixed with things I like from the full version of Dungeon World. This is the character in question:

Kingon of Shadowdale,

half-elf male ranger

HP: 2 (2HD); LEVEL: 1

ATTRIBUTES: Str+1, Dex+2, Con+1, Cha-1

SKILLS: awareness, survival

ABILITIES: pet, wild

EQUIPMENT: leather jerkin, long sword, short sword, long bow, ammunition (2 uses), travel rations (2 uses), water skin (2 uses), flint & steel, coin (0 uses)

WEALTH: Destitute (-1)

BONDS: I owe my life to Shadow.

CONVICTIONS: good

HARM: none.

SHADOW. 2HD, 5hp, claws and fangs. Grants the stealth skill. Black cat-beast from Chult. Stalks prey. Ferocious.

I decided on a mixture of John Fiore's Nine Questions solo engine with some elements of the Location Crafter (although what from the latter, I wasn't yet sure — I ended up using the descriptor and action words as my random idea generator along with occasional Rory's Story Cubes). I also rolled a die to clarify occasional questions with a simple yes/no result. Even results indicated Yes, odds, No; and I sometimes threw in an extra die to simulate higher chances of a yes or no (taking the most or least favorable, respectively). Using the base resolution system of DW, the results are based on attribute modifiers and a roll of 2d6 where 2-6 is a miss (failure and a hard move), 7-9 a partial (success at a cost), 10-11 a hit (you get what want, no questions asked), and 12+ a critical (what you want and then some). You will see some of these results sprinkled throughout the text. WoDu doesn't have the explicit moves of DW, but can be free-formed to fit the flow — or simply applying a Defy Danger resolution to everything.

I also tried this session with nothing but my character sheet in front of me, a pair of dice, and dictating into my iPhone.

Setup

Wandering near the woods of Battledale, a half-elf ranger overheard the screams of women. A small hamlet was lit aflame as goblin raiders made a retreat with some loot into the woods. Kingon pursued.

The 9Q’s: Questions 1-3

Q1b. Chase Into the Woods

Focus (PC initiated): pursuit, combat

Kingon swore an oath and trailed after the buggars. Goblins in broad daylight! He pushed himself hard (partial), flying through the foliage so that he scarcely noticed the two goblins hiding around the boles of trees in wait. However (partial), his great cat companion’s throaty growl alerted him. He was able to leap as a rope was pulled tight between the two trees to trip him. That put him off balance — and the goblins were right there on him with axes raised for a killing blow.

A black shadow leapt behind the pair (hit), one goblin going down with a shriek as fur and claws blurred together. The beast raked the life from the goblin. That bought Kingon enough time to recover and draw two blades to meet the second’s onslaught. He owed his life to the jaguar — and not for the first time. He circled with his scared opponent, but the craven thing bolted suddenly, not wishing to face the ranger alone or on even footing.

GM’s Reaction: wildly tranquil

As he turned to follow the remaining goblin, he saw no sign of the others. The brief scuffle had done its job — the others had all completely vanished within the dense foliage of the old forest. Kingon sheathed his blades and drew his bow. He wasn’t about to let this one get away (miss). He let loose, but struck a tree as the goblin evaded him.

Two hoots in the trees let the ranger know he had been duped again — snipers were waiting for him. With a sudden spring (partial), Kingon twisted aside just as a black fletched arrow struck the spot where his head had been a moment earlier. He was behind cover, but had dropped his bow, which was now out of reach and in the direct line of fire.

Back to the tree, he contemplated his next move. Then he spied Shadow lurking beyond. He flicked his eyes upward so the cat could follow. However, the beast was already in action (low partial). The cat stalked up the trunk of the tree within which one sniper lay with deadly quiet. The going was slow enough that the two had time to maneuver to get a better shot at the half-elf.

Kingon was forced to move again as arrows whistled (partial). He dived away, sprawling on all fours as just ahead of him, he heard the brush rustling. Had some of the footmen circled back to reinforce their comrades, or was this some other threat?

However, Shadow was now in position (crit), and tore through the branches, flaying one goblin with a shriek and dropping the other completely surprised archer to the ground. Kingon didn’t waste a moment. With blades back in hand again (miss), he went after the prone goblin. However, the thing dropped its bow and was up with a long knife in its hand faster than Kingon would have believed possible. He deflected one blow, but mostly by dumb luck, the jagged blade sliced open a length of the half-elf’s forearm in a counterstrike.

What’s the source of the sound? delightfully delicate (wild elves)

As the two fought, the foliage shaking reached a crescendo, revealing two or three evilly grinning green fey — wild elves. A central one rode atop a great wild boar. Kingon could hardly comprehend what he saw, but didn’t let up on his offensive (partial), striking down the last goblin.

Laughing, the strange fey beings chanted together. Kingon’s head swam — but pleasantly — and he fell into a deep slumber.

Q2. In the Lair of the Fey Folk

Unusual Event: fortunately scary, vengeance power

Where? in the lair of the fairy folk — a dense mossy green “room"

Focus: intrigue

Kingon dreamt of pleasant laughter and cool turf between his toes. He awoke with the sound of a bubbling brook and found himself on a soft, fragrant mossy bed. He looked around him and found he was dressed in soft linens, his clothes and leather jerkin cleaned and neatly folded nearby. His weapons were nowhere to be seen.

Presently, two elf maidens entered with an urn and basin and told Kingon to refresh himself. When he had done so, he followed the only way out of the natural ‘room’ through a corridor between the woods to an open sward upon which a board was prepared. The impressive warrior Kingon had seen riding the boar sat in a high backed chair at one end. The elf gestured for Kingon to sit, which he did.

“You did well against the goblins yesterday,” the elf lord said.

“You mean a day has passed?” Kingon said with trepidation.

“Yes, but do not worry yourself — those fleeing ones did not get far,” said the lord. “I am Imewar, lord of these beings of the wood. For now, you are our guest. Once you have supped and have the strength to go on, you may leave — however, you are not to follow those goblins again.”

“But, why?” asked Kingon, stupefied.

“They have done misdeeds against my people, and we alone must mete our justice upon them.”

“But they have done misdeeds against the men of the Dales as well — and some have hurt their women, stolen their possessions, and burned their homes. What about them and their lost heirlooms?”

Does the elf lord have them? No

Does he make a promise to return their things? Yes

“You may trust, young one, that we will return their belongings once we have recovered them,” answered Imewar.

“That is poor justice for a people wronged…”

“And so was it when the men of the south first settled about our wood and took much of what was ours from us and made hurts upon our women and cut into our homes,” replied Imewar as though such irony was just deserts. Then, Kingon knew the lord’s eyes regarded him with deep contempt of a half-breed — a reflection of his contempt for mankind.

“Well,” said Kingon after some thought, “at least allow me to join you.”

Is Imewar open to it? No

“I’m afraid it cannot be,” the elf lord said. “Tomorrow, if you are ready, you will be escorted under blindfold back to the outskirts of your man’s world. There you will find your weapons.”

“I am not only of human blood,” insisted Kingon. “By right, I may join by the elvish blood commingled with it. You would deny me my birthright?!” (miss)

The elf lord stood. “I will hear no more of this! You have been paid every kindness and honor in our disposal, for few of the half-blooded folk have ever set foot in Mosshollow! Know that such kindness shall never again be offered. Once you have supped, begone!”

Imewar was not having Kingon interfere or know any more of his mind.

Q3. Too Many Grievances

Shocking Twist: gently lethal, gratify wounds

Focus: betrayal, revelation (amoeba & crown from RSC)

Kingon couldn’t wait to leave the company of the elves. As soon as he was rested, he elected ready to go. In short order, he was dressed (although without his weapon still) and escorted among a group of four elves. They blindfolded the half-elf, disoriented him, and made off.

Where he was, the ranger could not tell. He could, however, gauge the amount of time they were walking — although it would not have been difficult for the elves to backtrack and wind around in order to further confuse his steps.

After several hours into their march, Kingon heard a clamor up ahead. He could very well hear the shrill voices of goblins, and many were crying out as if a battle took place, or some other disaster. Kingon was thrust aside and told to be quiet. The clamor continued, and with it the sound of steel against steel. All the while, two of his elf escorts whispered to one another in their native tongue.

Now, Kingon was partially elf-blooded. That part of him which was elvish was not raised among the tree-folk. However, through his orphanage among many elves and half-elves living in human lands, he picked up a bit of the forest tongue. What he now heard was a bit rustic, but still (hit) he could make out a good deal.

The first commented about how the foolish goblins were too stupid to take the bait. “Imewar’s plan for the goblins to stretch the limits to their ability to survive had better reach its point soon, else they will kill one another rather then raid the communities of men.”

Kingon understood enough to recognize the egregious betrayal. The ranger began to formulate a hasty plan. Hoping his weapons were among the four, he suddenly leapt and hollered, whistling shrilly (miss). He had hoped to stay on his feet longer, but he was tackled to the ground by two of the elves.

“Fool!” the first whispered.

Kingon had only hoped that the goblins fighting nearby would hear the sound and distract the elves. Even more importantly, was that is feline companion, Shadow, was within earshot.

Does Shadow come? Yes

The elves were too preoccupied to notice the black shadow that loomed above them in the trees (hit). Their surprise could not have been more complete. With the savage roar, the cat dropped out of the trees and bore into the group, slashing with sharp claws and bearing it’s fangs.

The half-elf got to his feet and swept the blindfold off his brow. Three of the elves were preoccupied with Shadow, while the fourth turned to restrain him.

Is this the one with Kingon’s weapons? Yes

The elf had a bundle in one arm wrapped in something out of which protruded the hilt of the ranger’s primary sword. Kingon launched his head forward in a butt (miss), however, he misjudged the speed of his opponent. In the blink of an eye, the elf sidestepped, stuck his foot out, and followed Kingon to the ground, putting him into a hold.

Shadow roared a mighty bellow once again (partial), this time scattering his three opponents. However, this time, the goblins heard the sound, some of their rear scouts coming to investigate. Kingon used the opportunity to shake off his attacker (partial), which he did. Up in a flash, the elf darted away into the foliage, but the goblins where nearly upon Kingon and his companion.

The half-elf snatched up his bundle of weapons and quickly sped away at the first direction that promised escape, with the black shadow at his side (partial). Never before had he summoned such speed, moving almost with the grace and lightness of his feline companion.

Kingon managed to escape. Where he was, he could not tell. As he labored for breath, he undid the bundle of weapons, seeking out that all his possessions were there. However, only his weapons were present. He had several other important supplies needed for long-term survival in the woods. These were gone.

But at least he was alive and free — and in possession of some seemingly terrible plan on the part of the elves.

Stay tuned for part 1 and 2...