"How does permanent death work?"
The party find themselves in a strange hunting lodge, with evidence of elven architecture and contents, yet guarded by trolls? What strangeness is this? Then to find human cooks, who chase them out of the kitchen, yet don't try to sound the alarm? This is getting weirder by the moment...
Starring, in order they sit around the table:
Nyvan, (played by Jason) a elven knight, who likes long walks along dark tunnels, towards the light, and holding hands.
Venmir, (played by Brett) an elven clergyman, who likes cursing and being grumpy - he is especially touchy about death.
Sigurd, (played by Iain) a travelling swordsman, who likes songs, musical instruments and longs for Valhalla.
Rodin, (played by Lorne) the sullen dwarven axeman (absent this week).
Nandrin, (played by Hilton), the elven mage, who likes flames, property damage and the phrase "OOC: WTF just happened?".
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.
Tonight's session was a man down from the start due to uncontrollable circumstances, but that wouldn't stop the remainder from finding a way to get into a spot of bother. Maybe even a little more than a spot of bother - more like a river of blood...
The hunting lodge had proved fairly empty, yet still interesting.
They walked back through several rooms they'd already checked. They found themselves back in the hall way they'd first come through. It was a large room, with two demonic statues at the base of the stairs, two full suits of green elven plate mail near the entrance from the cloakroom and many doors leading off in all directions. As they entered the room, a figure came down the stairs several steps - an older human, not quite elderly, powerfully-built, but obviously a warrior of some sort. He stopped, halfway down a flight of stairs and addressed the heroes.
"Who are you and why are you in here?" he enquired, politely.
"We're lost," admitted Sigurd, "could you tell me where we are?"
"On the Spine of the World, a thousand miles from anywhere. How could you be lost here? Unless.....you came through..... Who are you, exactly?"
"Just travellers..." interrupted Nyvan.
"No, that would explain why the dragon bitch and her red-robed companion came flying through the portal and never stopped." said the man, as he slowly started to back up the stairs.
"There's no need to panic, sir. I think there's been a misunderstanding. We're not with them. We're hunting the evil cult and there's nothing to fear from us - we slay evil!" announced Nandrin. He pushed his hands out to either side to show his intentions.
"I'm afraid it's not quite that simple!" said the man, as he turned and ran up the stairs, disappearing through a doorway.
"That's not good...." said Sigurd, just as the front door opened and some...thing walked in.
It looked like a troll, yet it was at least a few foot taller than the ones they had met before. It also had four huge arms, and a muzzle easily half a foot longer than a normal troll. It squeezed through the doorway and unfurled itself to its full height. Its head was higher than the balcony of the floor above, and its voice was deep and angry.
"So you are the ones who killed my friends outside? I'm going to eat you one at a time, in front of each other! Crunch your bones!"
"Stay back, you vile beast!" shouted Sigurd, "or this will not end well for you!"
The troll roared and screamed, saliva dropping to the floor.
The older man from upstairs returned, this time accompanied by two large human warriors, fully-kitted out. He had managed to quickly strap on a few pieces of armour and stood with his sword drawn.
"Whoa! Whoa! What a moment! There's no need for violence - we just want to leave and be on our way..." countered Sigurd.
And so the conversation continued for several minutes, even getting to the point where Nandrin tried to defuse the situation by asking if they had any rooms to rent. As ever, it continued to escalate and when battle began, those on the stairs stood back, leaving the troll to take on the interlopers.
The troll and the heroes tore into one another. Sigurd and Nyvan unleashed mighty blows on the beast, while Nandrin filled the room with a flaming ball and Venmir aided his companions with the power of his deity. The troll screamed a series of words out, unintelligible to the heroes, and launched himself at the party, his claws ripping into Nyvan and Sigurd, rending their flesh. His teeth tore away part of Nyvan's shoulder. The heroes responded with more slashes into the troll's flesh. The burning ball of fire burnt at the troll, and the cleric unleashed holy fire on the beast. Half a dozen drakes charged into the room behind the troll. Skittering across the walls and through the flames, leaping at the heroes like the faithful pets they were. The party began to buckle, and the troll surged forward, his claws lashing the air around Sigurd, before more raked across Nyvan's chest, bringing him close to death.
The party rallied, preparing to fight to the death, when a voice called out across the battlefield.
"What are you doing to my house! Stop this at once!" some of the party looked up to see an armoured woman on the balcony. She raised her hands and the air around the heroes grew cold. The air was stinging their skin, and massive hailstones the size of a man's fist started to swirl around them all, making them drop to the ground to avoid being pummelled. Sadly, both Nyvan and Sigurd were slower than the others, and they were each struck multiple times across the head and chest by the massive stones. They both toppled over, struck dead by the power of the icy winds. Nandrin and Venmir stood in shock.
The female figure leapt over the balcony and slowly lowered to the floor, magically.
"How dare you come into my home, burn my belongings, damage my.......Venmir, is that you?"
"Yes, it is I, Talis" replied the cleric, "and this is Nyvan. Your friend! And you've killed him!". Nyvan knelt next to his friend to check for a pulse, but found nothing. He stood and glared at the woman in front of him.
Nandrin looked on, somewhat confused. "Who, what, how...is this?"
"Oh Nyvan...." she whispered, as she knelt next to the dead paladin. "Why did you follow me? What are you doing here? You should have just stayed where you were!" A tear rolled down her face.
"And you should have told us what you were doing and where you were - and we would never have looked for you! You lead us to Greenest, which lead us here. And what are you doing with this cult? I expected more from you." replied Venmir.
"Escort these two to the Stag Room, Wessic. I will be with you shortly.."
The older man stepped forward, with the two armoured men behind him. "This way, please..." he gestured towards a door, and lead Nandrin and Venmir to an extravagant waiting room, where they sat and contemplated their future.
.......................
(to be continued)
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