"Schwing!"
The heroes are still on the road - on a caravan which never seems to end, surrounded by enemies and starting to run low on morale. At least Waterdeep is only ten days away.
Starring, in order they sit around the table:
Nyvan, (played by Jason) a elven knight who stares death in the eye - along with his guards.
Venmir, (played by Brett) an elven clergyman, who has probably taken over from Nandrin as the least employable person in the group.
Sigurd, (played by Iain) a travelling swordsman with a kobold allergy..
Rodin, (played by Lorne) the sullen dwarven axeman, who has strange plans for the average wagon.
Nandrim, (played by Hilton), the ridiculously brave elf mage who is never quite sure when he's invisible.
and The DM, (played by Alex), who loves to comment in blue. And writes this blog. He's also a bit of a git and likes to make life difficult for his players.
To be fair, I think everyone is getting sick of being on a caravan but I've got a surprise in store - another caravan. I can still remember the groans...
The group are on the road to Waterdeep, travelling with the cultists they first encountered maybe 800 miles away, in the town of Greenest. Being the heroic sort, they find themselves here, on the road, blinded by boredom and never quite sure what's going to happen next...
A few days out of Daggerford and the caravan has settled back into its routine after the melee on the road. The party are separated, some are working for merchants, and others are running solo. Nyvan, however, is watching over several dozen exotic birds which belong to his deceased employer. Every morning, they take turns feeding the animals...
"Nyvan! Sir, my hands....the pain!" cried guardsman Wilton. He showed his hands to Nyvan, they were bleeding and holes were appearing in front of his eyes. Nyvan stared at him, wordlessly. "Help me!" he cried, "I don't know what to do?", his voice creeped up in octave. "Help meeeeeeeeeee!" as he fell to his knees. Nyvan stared at him, wordlessly. "I'm dying, right here in front of you!" he screamed as his face started to pit and bleed. Nyvan stared at him, wordlessly. "Nooooooooooooooooooo!" cried Wilton, his tears turning to blood. Suddenly, Nyvan leapt forward, placing his hands on the young father's shoulders, sending the power of his lord, Corellon into the young man, feeling the healing energies leaving him and flooding into his charge.
"I...I think I'm getting better," said the young man, relief crossing his face, before he suddenly keeled over backwards, lifeless.
"You killed him!" cried one of the merchants. "I saw you touch him that young man and then he died! Why were you touching that young man?!" Nyvan stared at him in horror.
"I did no such thing! I'm a paladin!" he protested.
A crowd gathered, and Sigurd joined in to protect his friend. After several minutes of arguing, it became clear that some of the group believed the paladin was cursed - and made no bones about it.
Before long, it became clear that Wilton had been feeding the birds in the caravan - and Venmir examined the birdseed, noticing a strange smell. He stuck the bag under the noses of the others. "Smell this!" he exclaimed, which none of the others did. "It's poisoned!" and it all fell into place. Someone had poisoned the birdfood (as Nandrin called it).
Venmir threw the food into a fire, leaving the entire caravan coughing and spluttering as poisonous fumes swept across the camp. Fortunately, for most it had no immediate effect - but it would kill everyone in horrifying pain, in around 50-60 years, if they lived that long. The cleric had doomed them all to a lingering death. But anyway....
"What if seed has been spilled in the wagons?" asked Rodin, before examining a wagon for spilled seed. He sniffed at the wood and rubbed at a strange stain, before sniffing his fingers while he hummed under his braided beard. The others ignored him.
After it all died down, they carried on their way. For a while, Nyvan stared at the corpse, wordlessly.
After a further day had passed, the party were travelling the road, Sigurd in the lead, when a colourful, and familiar, figure leapt to a boulder just ahead of the front wagon.
"Behold, caravan! I am here to demand your goods and full surrender! Place your valuables in bags and leave them on the ground. Or I'll kill you all!" he shouted, with his hands on hips in a dramatic pose.
"De Cockernay!" shouted Sigurd, "Give up, you fool!"
"What the....who are you....NO! Not you! You fiend! If it wasn't for you and your pesky friends....! Give up! Give me all your gold and jewellry and I'll let you live!"
Sigurd came up with a plan. Distract de Cockernay and send him after the cultist wagons....
"Don't let him near the wagons with all the....." shouted Sigurd, pretending to hide his words from the bandit leader, when he was suddenly interrupted.
"de Cockernay you moron, I'm going to chop you into little bits!" screamed Nyvan, before staring at him wordlessly.
The bandit chief screamed his outrage to the gods and ordered his troops to attack! Before anyone could react, hidden trenches alongside the road erupted with orcs, hobgoblins, kobolds and a troll! The troll leapt at the front of the caravan, where our heroes had gathered.
A furious battle ensued.
The party found themselves in combat with a troll who laid about him with great abandon, slapping the heroes about and knocking Rodin to the floor, where he was healed by Venmir, bringin him back to the fight, while de Cockernay fired his bow at Sigurd, occasionally winging him, before Sigurd and Nandrin lost their tempers and attacked him directly, just as the troll fell. As before (see HotDQ1) the bandit fled when things looked tough, taking a number of magic missiles in the back. Sigurd set off in pursuit, his speed bolstered by his skaldic magics (:D) while Nandrin ran after him, casting a web spell over the luckless thief. Nyvan ran for his horse, vaulting into the saddle smoothly, ready to ride....no, wait, his hands slipped on the horse's back as he vaulted it from behind, slamming his hips into the horse's hindquarters and tilting him back onto the floor, winded.
Rodin hacked at the troll, but it continued to rise to it's feet every time he felled it.
"A little help here, with the troll?" Venmir queried the mage bodyguard of the noble.
"I'm busy with my own business," replied the mage haughtily.
de Cockernay slipped free of the web, just as he was caught and tripped by Sigurd. Nyvan arrived, having mounted his horse more conventionally.
"To the death!" cried the bandit.
"To the pain!" promised Sigurd.
The two circled each other warily, looking for an opening, leaping forward to wound one another in turn. The sweat dripped from their brows. The tense game of cat and mouse, continued, while they watched one another, waiting for the others' defence to drop. Waiting for that one moment of weakness that would allow them to end the other and walk away victorious. The tension grew.
Then Nyvan walked over and chopped off de Cockernay's arm and crushed his lung through his armour. Sigurd stared in horror, barely believing how the knight had interrupted his duel. He should have known better - even a Half Dragon (see HotDQ4) knew the paladin was not one for chivalry.
The troll rose again.
"Oh for fucks sake!" cried Rodin.
"Move away!" screamed Venmir, fearing for his little friend's life.
Suddenly the troll burst into flames, throwing Rodin back and knocking him unconscious. Venmir looked around in surprise. The mage stood nearby, smiling, with his finger smoking from where he'd fired his fireball. He blew the smoke away theatrically.
"Solved your troll problem!" he announced, and smarmily turned away.
Sigurd swore vengeance, for once they had more health back and the others agreed, but it was never to come.
Two mornings later, as they all sat preparing breakfast, Jemna Gleamsilver, the ugly-ass female gnome who joined the caravan in Daggerford, grabbed a bowl of porridge from Nyvan's hands, pulling out a small round artifact with her dagger. "A sliver of bone, curled up, to expand in your stomach and kill you in agonising pain..... I suspect you all have them in your breakfast. We'll talk more tonight..."
"Err, thanks!" said Nyvan, and he, Sigurd and Nandrin quickly warned the others not to eat the breakfasts.
They waited for night-time, no sign of the gnome, until the last moment, when she turned up and sat with Nandrin, Nyvan and Sigurd.
She confirmed that she was there for the same reason as them - to track the cultists and see what they had in their wagons. The heroes confirmed they already knew and they hatched a plan to investigate further, using invisibility. The gnome followed Sigurd into some trees, covering their movements by loudly proclaiming she was intending to ride his Norse longboat into the sunset. The gnome, once invisible, moved off and returned 15 minutes later, not long after they all heard a commotion coming from a cultist wagon.
"You were right" she admitted, confirming the belief that the wagons were full of stolen goods. Now let's get back to the others.
"What a stallion!" she confirmed after they got back to the fire.
"Schwing!" exclaimed Sigurd, as he strummed his lute.
Two days later, they were all awakened to cries of murder most foul. One of the cultist guards had been found dead. The cultists pointed their fingers at Nyvan, claiming they'd seen him hanging around the wagons, eyeing them up which, to be fair, he had been doing. He once more protested his innocence but once again, his defence was weak, "I'm a paladin!" he cried, on the verge of weeping uncontrollably. Jemna once more saved his ass, pointing out how the knight only used a longsword - and the wound was from a shorter weapon. The council of merchants agreed, stating there wasn't enough evidence and leaving the fate of the killer to the gods.
They arrived in Waterdeep a couple of days later.
As they entered through the gate, unchecked by the guards, most of the group headed straight for the nearest tavern/inn, The Horny Elf, not far from the south gate. They watched as the cultists went in separate directions, the three wagons heading in different directions. Sigurd followed one, Nandrin followed another and, as they watched,Jemna wound her way through the crowds in pursuit of the third.
Both Nandrin and Sigurd covered their presence with their powers, leaving the cultists none the wiser. After more than an hour, Sigurd found himself in an alleyway, watching a building with a large courtyard, full of wagons and watching the cultist wagon as it stood there, it's guards and teamster having headed inside. He was surprised to find that Jemna had beat him there and was waiting in the alleyway.
Before long, he saw Nandrin arrive, following one of the other wagons. He beckoned him over. Jemna told them how there was a number of unseen guards hiding and watching the streets. As she reeled off her intel, they were surprised by Carlon Amoffel, the Harper agent they'd dug from the road not too long ago. He initially accused them of working "with them" and called Jemna one of the Zhentarim. Nandrin tried to find out what his reasons were for stealing his gear and the horse, but he met with a sharp rebuke and the man disappeared. Jemna hid nothing, admitting she was Zhentarim, but made it clear her plans were the same as theirs - follow the trail, find out what the cult was up to and, at the end, stop them.
They returned to the inn, to find their friends deep in their cups. They got themselves a room and sat down to plan their actions from that point. There was a knock at the door. They were surprised to see Carlon Amoffel again. He explained his actions back on the road - how Nandrin's wink at Sigurd and comments had filled the Harper with suspicion, leading to him taking what he needed and making a run for it. there were some apologies and he gave them more intel. He pointed out that from their current location, the wagons could only be heading north - it was the home of the High Road Charter House, whose main aim was to rebuild the road north to Neverwinter through the Mere of Dead Men. He suggested they join the caravan north. Nandrin and Sigurd simultaneously cursed.
The five of them moved to the Charter House the next day and quickly moved to the clerk who was taking names and details near the doorway into a large hall. He queried the group and confirmed they were acting as guards, before they were surprised to find Jemna stood with them, making the group six. She shrugged when they looked over at her, as if to say, "yeah, I know, but we're all in this together."
They were hired as guards and were intriduced to the other group of six guards - which happened to be the guards from the cultists wagons before! Together with 12 guards, there were 20 labourers and it became apparent that many of the cultist teamsters and even some guards were among them. The cultists glared at the adventurers, but said nothing aloud.
Their attention was drawn to a large balcony, where the leader of the Charter, Ardred Brierhew, stood, ready to address his caravan.
He stood, an older man, but clearly a warrior and not one to brook any crap. Sadly, Venmir decided to test the theory, and snorted in derision during the man's speech to the group. The Charter Master stopped, and stooped down to comment to his clerk. As he continued his speech, the clerk approached Venmir.
"Excuse me, sir?" he asked.
"Yes?" said Venmir.
"You're to leave the building. You're dismissed. Master Brierhew will not stand for insubordination like yours." Venmir stood, open-mouthed. He'd almost beaten Nandrin's employment-to-dismissal record and continued the group's rather poor employment record (the rest of the group found it highly amusing - yet this incident was just one more valuable lesson on remaining in character at all times when players and NPCs are talking!).
"I'm sorry..." he squeaked to the clerk.
"Not to me, to him!" said the clerk loudly, drawing everyone's attention to the cleric.
Venmir visibly shrunk into himself, finding it highly embarrassing. After some humbling apologies, Venmir was forgiven by the Charter Master, on the basis he couldn't be arsed to find any more guards.
They set off an hour later, the party realising that the cultists had unsurprisingly assigning themselves to the wagons which had come from the caravan north from Greenest.
The journey north was even less interesting than that which lead to Waterdeep. After a week, they found themselves cresting a hill, through some woods, expecting to see the Mere of Dead Men ahead. In stead, they saw one of the cultist outriders galloping (that's top gear for a horse, Nyvan) - he was screaming and when he got closer, they could hear him clearly - OGRES!
Half a dozen charged from the woods behind the horseman and the guards leapt to the attack.
The party found themselves suddenly in deadly combat, but somehow all the warriors found themselves fighting the same one, leaving the other two to wreak havoc. One of them laid into Venmir, quickly smashing him into the ground. The other two laid into the warriors, and the battle was long and fierce. Venmir slipped towards death (crit fail on his death saving throw!) and Sigurd stepped away from delivering a killing blow to save his friend, who promptly stood up and finished off the beast, much to Sigurd's disgust. Within another round or so, the rest were slain. They turned to see the rest of the guards standing over dead ogres - testament to their skills. Brierhew had killed one on his own.
The party took a moment to rest.... (and so did the game - more next week!)
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