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Archive for the ‘T1 Village of Hommlet’ Category

1. The Hunter’s Close
Feinting they lance the foetid moathouse boil,
and move our crew in orderly retreat
To await in rows putrid evil’s roil
slaking ‘fore long their shar’d vengeance replete.
Braced fresh their arms receiv’d the row
of black guards mail’d and veteran true
unfaz’d, answering with disciplin’d bow
in steel rains concert’d that foulest hue.
Wise to martial wisdom Olo did splash
flaming murder, enlivening shadows
‘cross the warrens walls of fell figures gnash’d
in pain and dashing back down sooted burrow.
There glimps’d Farthammer his strategy’s fruits –
three guards running, four dash’d in armor’d suits.

2. Crossing the Foul
mesmer’d not by reverse feint travers’d our
heroes that horrid dungeons sodded roof
in croaking passage of Celene’s glower.
Wise to the hold they counter’d bugbears proof
by entrance rear, missing holes murdering
in manner’d charge, but strong bolts descried
Olo’s pride to enter first; his piercing
the tumbled breach did fuel bugbears reprise.
Yet the blackguards fumbled their swords to reach,
and half orcs full armed for Hextor’s play
dashed buckets of cursed blood to preach
their righteous cause and turn the fray.
And so in breaking wide the villain’s home
did Farthammer strip this reserve to bone.

3. Taking Lareth
Pursued now by hunters close and
countered ‘fore by Dain Saint Cuthbert’s maid
Lareth, dark beauty and demoness’ brand
failed to stand, leaving his men betrayed.
Traveled he not far ‘yond moathouse door
when turning he faced his hunter and cried
“Lolth, deliver me!” Staff raised to ward
his wicked queen replied, so Lareth died.
Unleash’d from black armor’s tenacious shell
his soul flew forth to mark in Dryder’s form
his lord hunter, and by that cursed yell
did strike Ramses down in manifold swarm.
And tho’ Lord Cyril’s crew did moathouse close
he lies, Farthammer, hunted in webb’d repose.

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Trained well in shortened days and ready
the bands timbre for striking songs heroic,
now on traveller’s eve the shield hand steady
finds in darken’d hole the remains of Kai.
Scriven’d remains in blue’d forefather’s tongue
Speak now the volumes lost to killing silence
of future deeds, her people’s love long gone.
Then too stood ready hands to spell violence
onto strange minions of temples far keep
and pen in strongest verse the party’s hist’ry.
Then foul warning gave wrack and cause to weep
the loss of Kai, woven to tragedy.
Then eight stood close the count of vet’ran.
Shall we don fresh the frowned mask again?

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Of leaves maple and birch this curtain wrought,
the stage bare lawn ‘fore battlements ’tis
holding us now to see the conflict fought
for Hommlet’s soul so they say. ‘Tis naught
two braggards wagering small means brawling
The one, horrors, made same of Loki’s hide
th’other, sooth born a captain wrestling, bearing
to grave his gypsy train his sueloise pride
but more. ‘Neath noise of clatt’ring pieces gold
close heard a bosom’d song of working men
-to sleep past danger, and all the stories told
-or rise now arm’d ‘gainst dangers legend?
Welcome sir, this fair Hommlet tis.
sooth plain told now sir, in shadows sight,’tis not.

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Words overwrought, stay for fallen Moonleaf,
Simple of Beorn’s first rose he to call
of Mother’s duty, mending her ancient weave
with blue birds song and whipporwill the wall
against temples foul entropy until
winds chilled, darkening autumnal skies
in icy shafts of hail did claim the kill
of copper’d veins and Black Jay’s child; why
Warren? Except in passing say to teach
the spiral’d trace of sad palms drop doth speak
of darkness rising, plain words to fair reaches
for patched walls, arms rais’d to ward the weak.
Now rest, Celene’s young veil, your work be done;
your lesson taught, our geas yet begun.

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Came they murmurs along the Old Bend Road; to Grove, to Church, on Godsday morning.  Heroes smashed, lifeless rising and what hear we now, the loss of Ogre’s bane?  Flow’d and mixing blending this wind of chorus’d worry did wash the heat from Hommlet,  and usher fell chills from Bellringer’s Feast.  Among oak pews and on bluegrass’d lawns did the chill hasten, sad tales of yesters eve binding shared view from pulpit and pole.  Pride, did Canon cry, exacted fair price;  fresh  delvers slain by hubris of fair deed.  Tempted were they by Fortunes varied play, so fairly counseled circles fifth Initiate, and leaving Brewmeister’s walk did fated Freecastle find Chances curtains aside.  Warded from gaze of Ralishaz the circle drew sage wisdom from pains fresh lesson.  And thus arising from their oaken pews, walking from bluegrass’d field of pleasant grove, fielded joints rumbling from harvest cycles, mistaking lesson’s learn’d with courage earn’d the farmers, of Church, of field roamed home.  One  comfort soft stood proof to common chill: kin Freecastle, concern’d for weeping widow with justice did describe lost brothers deeds.  How else but Mayaheine’s need could march the Castle free and on to seventh plane?  Yet as with years anon did such wisdom not carry past Freecastles inner demesnes, whilst Wenta blew free Fears’ chilling whisper, unmet across the Hommlet rolling hills.  Where hero’s rejoinder some voices asked?  Lost, lost to shame some voices sweet did say, paved secret their way by fell’d temple in bloody gold and lusts freedom unbound.  To this untruth no challenge remained.

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Nine now there was to blaze the moathouse just, embolden’d by their new found fame they were! Tonguely and Zert, Rufus and Kai and Orr’n, Selaphora walking by and close, flank’d too by Luther brave head high and Moonleaf, returned by his good friends love. All these warden’d wide by a runners eye, Farthammer, of the wild coast guarded close by. Gain drawbridge, gain hall, and gain again stairs; saw there no sign of treachery foul they, in freshman bravery, to larder Lubash went! Beyond, beyond now down more stairs spill’d they, and doom made they rushing onward. Foolish!

The Grinder begins

The Grinder begins

Gnolls here made good their threats of red revenge. Sprung was theirs first feather’d traps did fly to home, as iron jaw clench’d to snap the party twain. First Kai leapt brave to glory’s side striking left now right to clear the trail of foe! Yet fail’d her friends to form the timely line, to melee her alone the Gnolls snared, scoring wounds grave past names of blue’d ancestry. Zert, to adventure fresh did come too soon, and fall gath’ring shares of shafte laurels. Oh the warped gnolls harp did sing timely! To that tune came Orrin running bravely, worried for his true friends health unproofed. Wounded, healing, wounded again was he. To this call’d Selaphora crying, trap’d! Trapped and sunder’d from good friends we! And gnollish blades rejoic’d the coming bane!

Those shut fast ‘hind iron wrought freedom quick. Belts, ropes leverag’d fast, arms arm’d in twisting, three men work’d the trick to breaking their own, and so rush’d dropped bars to save their friends. Rufus left, Luther right the fight they join’d, braving feather’d marshal flights in true form. Finally freed did Farthammer spring to flight, leasing back and quick those shafts Gnollish sprung and so flung back to gnolls a promis’d bane. Where Kai did fall to place did Luther rise. Where Orrin fell did Rufus hell extract. Moonleaf, stunn’d by ferocious fang’d foe, did extend Orrin’s first handed rescue, and reach’d Tonguely’s help yond the desp’rate fray. Out came Zert, out came Kai by druid’s kind hand, but lifeblood runneth quick, and following said trail did Kai now ‘tain her people’s grace.

Act Second releas’d, and ill received now our troupes fine play wore tired down. Yet here to dismay’d cries did foe reprise, and bring crashing down our bands hop’d triumph. For to said fray did they call the Bugbears, demons foul wrought in racked wombs equipp’d, birthed to the ancient wizards’ evil. Their bare members bared in strong retort for sport the ‘Bugs flung back the Gnolls retreat, forcing second guessing from our fair group. Too did Zert the newcome friend choose this time to show true color to his new found friends. Like dawn in hell he rose, unfetter’d, to run through elvin frame to hilt cold iron, spilling he to the killing floor Tonguely, and there the fair mage expired. This villian then fled through the bended gate, closing it with brook of mage’s dead frame.

Moonleaf, Unawares of dear friends passage, cognizant now of dangers fore and aft, tender work’d poor Tonguely through the iron bars to more the mend this breach with ally Kai. Alive perhaps, alive still for salvation! The whiles our remainder played rearguard cutting careless the Bugbear’s whisker stray’d to close the veteran pole of angry Luther Freecastle or flirted Rufus’ extended blade. Above sang hafts feather’d from angry harps pluck’d tiredly by fingers

A bloody retreat

A bloody retreat

Farthammer, join’d by Celaphora in dirge fearful. Yet onward Bugbears pushed the failing line. And to the ‘hind did Moonleaf find foe plus! Zert, returned, wounded, still eyed gleeful evil demise of our fairly wounded group, and so did suit to slay Moonleaf at once! Down, defenseless Moonleaf dodg’d the angry blow. Zert, foe determin’d did wind another when, wound ’round by sounds treacherous Farthammer’s arrow ultimate ended traitor’s play.

The endplay, o’er strange buzzing Bugbear’s noise did sound a fateful note to friends reduc’d. Arrow mark’d, lessen’d yet still they pressed, worse to show one wove past Luther’s pik’d front, and as hero scrambl’d to a bladed flank did near rend the lad in bloody twain! Luther! Freecastle! Hommlet’s paragon! Dim, dim the light now show’d the bands remain as Rufus, working brother’s memory, worked a weav’d steel violent front. Celaphora div’d first through bended bars, Farthammer to follow on bended knee and, to Rufus’ relief, turned the pike to strike the Bugbears cursed yellow hides.

Oh the sounds, the sighs the horrible cries did follow heroes wounded remainder. Lifeless walls read little to olven eyes, those that still in half measure could espy fresh corpses moving past their final sleep. Horrors fanged, horrors closing to strike!? Flee! Flee! And in cut time to drawbridge fly! There did bloody trunk’d party rest, no! Exhausted, chasten’d, hasten’d by foul memoirs they scream’d away from that cursed moathouse.

And now there were four.

XP: Six Hundred and Sixty Six 🙂

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Tiredly to the redoubt of Lubash they made their way. Smashed in combat, the door. Smashed too the table. Scattered and littered, battered and abandon’d utensils pots and pans to victual bands human and proper, for here did no fit person abide. Rufus they led away, so badly bled by said ogre for succor dear Orrin made parley divine. And what remains did remaining find! Torn ‘twain, innards suck’d, mangl’d, indeed chew’d a gnome did once cry foul the giant’s delight. But this here – another door!? The portal’s wards stretched thin with fear, wrung dry by hunger, beaten soft for the eas’d appetites of monsters – and still they breath’d! two merchants of Dyvers shown, themselves remaining of a caravan, carrying once quantities known, there spilled again ‘cross campfire to Celaphora; teamster’s receiver. And so ‘cross the bloody floor the party lead them, laden now with treasure rich and solemn – the truth. Up stairs, across the moat again the party walked, mem’ries full of awful stories; of ambush and slaughter! Simple folk do swarm to truth as moths to flame dancing. So fluttering they waited outside the door, the mass of Hommlet’s laz’d farmers wondering, that Celaphora did retreat from sober telling within to spin fancies without. And as freedmen and serf did cheer the Ogre’s Bane, elder and adventurer work’d a different frame, spilling truth of actions next from rear windows in Boccob’s silent way. How else to histories weave doth march the heroes, but quiet?

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