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Archive for October, 2008

Oh how the ruts, tree roots, ponds and reeds of that long walk too and from the moathouse did resign the band to their fate. And oh how the horrors at its end would send them realing, injured, dying to the healing domestic powers of the village. Still they strove to unveil the mysteries of moathouse, to lighten its darkest depths. Ooh but to leave such tortured secrets sleeping, the sweet reprise of ignorance! Imprisoned beneath the pile were those unaware of their previous demise. Men, slain yet walking, deceased yet gurgling still strange secrets of their death launched from wretched cells against our explorers. And here did Tonguely sample his demise; a brief tasting ended by the battlefield healing hands of Orrin. Fear’d, then embolden’d to the attack did Luther launch himself, and so bring the fell corpses to their final rest.

Wounded, afear’d was our band. Retreat did they up the stairs? Nay! In the stead of their fleeing fear did the ever more experienced veterans, rogues, prestigidators and acolytes of the band now turn to continue the delving!

XP 204

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Later would our feckless, fearless band, relaxed in the Grove of Jeroo, hear his deep soothing voice tell of the Colours: those that belonged in the world, and those that came From Beyond to smear the Material Planes their strange lifeless ochre..

Delving now, venturing below the rough hewn floor of the moathouse into darkness, did Kai encounter the Colour. Strangely shining it fell to her shoulders, encasing her in alien slime. Rushed above the band could do little to quell it – burn the stuff, scrape it from her skin, dispose of the knife, burn the soiled cape! Away away! Removed, destroyed the slime did yet leave a horrid mark; the golden hue of Kai’s exotic tan mottled into a porous grey and swollen. It was as if her skin had imbibed an unwholesome brew, and yeasted into strange shapes. Poison could it be, strange evils? Horrified the band did flee the strange depths, and again retreat from the moathouse. And again did Jeroo administer their wounded. Moonleaf, called away from further delving by his master, did now serve his delving friends in strange rites, performing in the glow of moonlight, leaping past beasts and frond, called to mystical frenzy by Beory’s Promise; mend whole, mend whole..

XP 1254

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Enthused as if with the zeal of Cuthbert himself did our band remount the rotting bridge timbers to the moathouse. But therein the enemy, such as they knew it, had retreated, leaving naught but rats for their swords and baubles for their purses. So they turned to the seeming abandon of the keep’s audience chamber; deserted, not so! Indeed to several men, poorly vested, desperate, laden with loot did escape down the fallen masonry, over the stream, and into the marsh beyond. Again did the runners spring to step to curb their daunted prey! And so did they pin him, but alive and in fear of their fury. Jeb the bandit told of long, cold nights and clever scrounging, and a treasure. Not more than one league from the moathouse did he and his colleagues discover a hidden wagon, bodies and some meal and brandy; the remains of caravan raided.

The story sounded true to the band. They returned to Hommlet, where His Most Worshipful Mage of Hommlet, and Rufus, did imprision the bandit for later query. Invited to stay the night, the band enjoyed a quiet, dry evening round the Mage’s table.

XP 114 + 50 for returning an outlaw to justice!

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Reinforced by the enlistment of Rufus, the mysterious, wisecracking, vaguely California surfer seeming half-Elf brother of the slain Ruprecht, our doughty band returned to the fearsome pile of the moathouse. As if pressed already in battle the charged into each room. And so the battle pressed; Orin Acolyte, fallen, pierced by an enormous tick gorging on his essence! Selaphora cornered by a giant lizard; Rufus finding his ground by charging said beast. Kai lifts her pole axe to strike, when stricken instead the delicately rotting timbers, the remaining moathouse roof crashes down to the pain of all! Selaphora, recovered near lifeless is rushed with Orrin to Hommlet, where the welcome ministrations of Jeroo Ashstaff of the Grove retain her pulse to flame another day! Orrin too finds succor, and after several days of pastoral respite near Black Jay’s cottage the band returns to the ruin.

XP 328

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Emboldened by his cool glory, Ruprecht did stride up the rotting timbers to the tumbled down gate. Selaphora fearlessly close by the two did hear footsteps rushing away. And the the party would later recall some comment coolly tossed by Ruprecht, but caught badly by Selaphora. Disdainful of the runner the rogue did retire to the party main, to enjoy the sole leader advancing solely into the debris. Following the crew cased the courtyard. What’s this, in the tower’s entry? Pieces of copper and silver?! Rogue Selaphora investigates, but not too far. Indeed in elven sight she sees an enemy above; something lurking in the rotten rafters. Ask not, yes. Ruprecht investigates. Fiend! The bloated recluse sank deep its poisoned fangs into the runner before even he could respond! Horrified did the Frogmower wave and slice his spadroon with fearful might. Horrified, both by the huge spider astride her comrade Selaphora sinks shaft after feather’d shaft into the beast. Accomplished, it expires. Breathless, swollen the fading runner falls to the half-elf’s embrace. And the party would later recall the sight of Ruprecht, fading in Selaphora’s lap, her tears failing to smooth his tortured brow as the acolyte Ivaldi labored to induce a holy cure.

That night did the canon Terjon open Cuthbert’s door to a strange woman, the barbarian Kai. With several townsfolk at hand did she relate the tale of Ruprecht’s bane, made flesh by the exhausted Farthammer soon to arrive, lifeless body sagging from his embrace. And the canon belabored the night to grace Ruprecht’s lips with breath, and in vain. XP 187 + 4

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Resolved by obligations of birth and association the party did turn to the cleansing of the moathouse. Built some fourscore years ago to foul purpose the pile sits still on a meander of the Nyr Div, hoarding its secrets. Through marsh and brambles humming with life disturb’d and disturbing our adventurers did stride. As they day wore on the voyaged deeper into the marsh. Finally in the later sun – a rampart, a wall indeed did they espy! No sooner was the secret location revealed than the loathsome spirit of the place did rise to defend it! Belching and scratching from the muck did grossly misshapen toads slither to attack, throwing slabs of tongue to cling and gather unpoil’t flesh to filthy maw! Answer the fiends, answer! And so the runner Ruprecht did coolly slaughter the amphibious assault, and in glinting rays of summer sun earn a monicker worn too briefly; Frogmower! XP 177

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The daughty delvers did debate their destiny late that hot summer night! Resolved, they arose to sell myriad dross collected in battle to the scurvy resellers of the Nulb market. A pittance did loose the brigand Bill from their warrant, and so themselves unfettered the band returned to Hommlet. Oh free, were they? For indeed those local to the town did feel strong bonds of obligation pulling them towards the Elder’s door, where somber they did spill the events of their voyage. Discerned, the location of the missing shipment? Discovered, the scoundrels responsible? Indeed the Council did somberly remind those townfolk of their blood tie to the Oerth, to the Gnarly Forest, and to Hommlet. Hie, adventurers, to service. And so their path was set to the Moathouse.

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