| Chapter 2: Into the Woods |
[24 Feb 2003|09:51pm] |
The elf watched them silently as they passed. In the lead was a well-muscled and tall Northerner. Not far behind him a pudgy little half-height wearing a secondhand vest whistled a jaunty tune. The rearguard was composed of an old man (obviously a wizard by virtue of his pointy hat and scraggly beard), a tanned young woman and a dwarf riding bumpily on a pack mule.
"Dennis," asked the girl, "how did you get the name Ladykiller, anyway?"
"Well," cackled the dwarf, "it weren't by smoochin'! Heh heh heh." He trotted ahead, his eyes glowing in the near-dark like a crazed cat's.
These weren't the ones he was hunting. The elf drew back into the shadows and trees, another ghost in the forest.
"Does anyone else feel like we're being watched?" whispered Hrothgar the Accentless.
"Constantly," replied Dennis Ladykiller, his paranoid one-time enemy, now friend.
"You know, I bet it's spiders." Ruggles the wizard shivered at his own imagining. "Giant wolf spiders. Reflected in their eight eyes. Oh, how I hate them. I can feel their stiff hair on my back already! Yecch!" He wriggled in his robes.
"It's OK, Ruggles." Verite, sun priestess and former hairstyle model, laid a calming hand on the mage's shoulder, causing him to shriek piercingly.
Lucky drew his vest tightly around him. "If you want my two farthings' worth--"
"We don't."
"--the sooner we're out of this forest, the better. Bad black magic hoodoo! That's what this place is. It's puttin' me off my game. It's...you know, spooky, like a room full of puppets."
"Are they nice puppets?"
"No, real weird ones, ones that can see into your heart."
"And have eight hairy legs," added Ruggles mournfully.
"Yeah, spider puppets."
"Oh, Lord," wheedled Dennis, "don't let the spider puppets get me! Hrothgar, save me from puppet hell!"
"Shhh! There aren't any spiders or puppets in this forest! Just a bunch of crybabies. Jeez, we're just cutting through here. We'll be into The Meadows in two days."
Hrothgar trudged bravely forward. Never let them see you're scared, he reminded himself. He looked back over his shoulder and grinned at his forlorn companions.
"Remember, anything we meet is probably much more afraid of us than we are of them..."
He was cut short. Standing before them was a monstrous behemoth some twelve feet tall. It had orange eyes and some coarse hair that stuck sweatily on its pallid and flabby skin. It was what was generally known as an ogre.
"Oh, yes," chuckled the ogre. "We're dreadfully afraid, aren't we, lads?"
"Terrified," offered a goblin, stepping out of the bushes.
"Pissin' ourselves!" giggled another from a tree.
"Dead terrified, ain't we, Babe?" agreed a third from behind the companions.
"Dead...terrified," concurred the ogre as he drooled a very mean-spirited grin.
Ambushed, disarmed and bound, the unfortunate friends were led back to the goblin camp where they discovered, much to their dismay, that there were six goblins in all, and each of them very hungry. The ogre, whose name, it turned out, was Baby Lemonade, sat down on his thinking stump as the goblins began a cookfire.
"Who should I eat first?" the anthropophagist wondered out loud.
"Not me," suggested Ruggles.
"Don't know, Babe. How 'bout the mule?"
"Naw, I want a people. We can save the mule for afters."
Thus deep in cogitation, Baby Lemonade did not notice Lucky Hinn sidle up to Hrothgar.
"Pssst, I undid my bonds. Stand still and I'll untie you." Lucky silently thanked himself for being so frugal with his thieving points.
"Great, Lucky, can you get the others too?"
Two goblins were busy kicking Ruggles, demanding he pull a rabbit out of his hat, while another pair took sordid photos of a very angry Verite for their uncle's cheesecake pseudo-fetish "Clerics Confined/Trussed Templars" magazine.
"A dwarf! That's what I need. Like an appetizer!"
"Owr! Like a stuffed crab!" suggested a goblin.
"Noooo!" Baby Lemonade snatched up a screaming Dennis by one tiny boot and dangled the poor dwarf like a grape above his monstrous mouth.
"Hurry, Lucky!" hissed Hrothgar as the half-height finished sawing through the thick hemp ropes.
"No! God!" wailed Dennis feverishly. "Please, please, Baby Lemonade, don't eat me! I've got herpes, syphilis, conjunctivitis! I'M SNOTTY!!!"
Baby Lemonade chuckled and was about to swallow his prey whole when an arrow stuck him in the forearm. He dropped the dwarf in shock and stared at his wounded limb.
"What the hell?"
All heads turned as an elf in dark woodland camouflage sprinted into the clearing.
The first goblin had barely time to gasp before the new arrival's' sword, some strange sort of Khopesh, parted his head from his body. The other goblins cried out in fear and anger as they raced to kill this unwelcome guest. Hrothgar, now free, grabbed a burning brand from the fire and leapt into the fray. Even in the midst of combat he could not help but marvel at the way the elf fought. He moved like a floating leaf buoyed on the wind, always the right combination of speed and precision to parry and riposte the goblin attacks with seeming effortlessness. The stranger's feet made no noise as they danced over the dry and broken detritus that littered the forest floor.
A second goblin fell before the elf's blade and Hrothgar bought his own improvised weapon down crunchingly on the head of a third. With a roar, Baby Lemonade tore the arrow from his skin and charged into battle wielding a club. He flatted the earth with an explosion of wood and steel where the elf had stood but an instant before.
The goblins became emboldened by this addition to their ranks and set to their work with a renewed ferocity spitting cursing biting and slicing with small knives and sickles. The elf turned to face the ogre and succeeded in evading the great brute's latest attack by rolling right underneath the beast's swing. Another goblin breathed his last lecherous breath when Verite, having been just released by Lucky, let him have a taste of her mace.
Hrothgar had squared off with the largest goblin.
"What you going to do with that stick?" snarled the goblin contemptuously as he made feints with his sickle.
"Trade!" yelled the barbarian, tossing his branch towards the goblin, who became so confused he grabbed it and threw his own weapon back.
'Thanks!" laughed Hrothgar as he caught the blade and quickly dispatched its previous owner.
"You cheated," died the goblin.
The last goblin broke and ran...straight into Lucky's short sword.
"I didn't even get a name," sighed the unnamed goblin.
"That's it, you're all dead!" screamed Baby Lemonade. "Who wants it first?" The ogre had obviously lost it. "You want some? Anyone? Anyone!" He brought his club down against and again, destroying the campsite, the elf staying out of harm's reach but only barely. It was obviously taking a toll on their fey savior as his breathing, though measured, was becoming rough. He was unable to do much more than defend himself.
"Bueller!" shouted Dennis Ladykiller and jumped up on the back of Baby Lemonade's head.
"I'd do something, you know, but I'm only a wizard," bemoaned Ruggles.
"Cast a spell, you tool!" urged Lucky.
"I've misplaced my spell components. Sorry," Ruggles apologized, and sat down for want of anything better to do.
Hrothgar gave his best approximation of a battle cry and drove his stolen sickle deep into the ogre's shoulder. Lemonade roared and, grabbing the barbarian, smashed him into a tree, which splintered with the impact. Dennis was sent spinning through the air by the creature's bull-like movements.
"Holy crap," blasphemed Lucky Hinn.
The elf drove at Baby Lemonade, but the wicked fiend turned and ran, vowing, "Next time, you little bastards!"
Hrothgar smiled as blood filled his vision and he passed out.
When he awoke, Verite was watching over him. While his body was still unwilling to move, her healing had prevented him from slipping into death.
"Does he live?" asked the elf rather casually. His voice was reedier than Hrothgar has expected
"He'll live," answered Verite. "Thanks to you." Her eyes were aglow.
"What's your name?" wheezed Hrothgar pitifully.
"My name is...Glimmer."
"Whoa, like in 'Glow, little glowworm'?" asked Lucky.
"The same."
"Glimmer, I am Hrothgar the Accentless. Will you join our adventuring group? We could use your skill and courage."
"And boots!"
The elf Glimmer looked thoughtful. "The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep."
Everyone was silent
"You didn't write that!" complained Dennis.
"Sassenath," replied the elf and he walked to the other side of camp.
"What did that mean?" wondered Verite, clearly awestruck.
"It's Elvish," explained Ruggles. "It means... 'whatever'."
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| Chapter 1: Ye Olde Renaissance Hiring Faire |
[13 Feb 2003|12:15am] |
"Hold, dwarf! This blade I wield is none other than Runegaard, most noble of swords. It was the weapon of my father and of his father's fathers. It has raised kings and toppled kingdoms. Again, I say beware!"
Hrothgar the Accentless held the great two-handed sword so it gleamed in the sun.
"Piss on it!" roared the dwarf and rushed him.
The day had begun with so much promise. Hrothgar had spent nine weary weeks working his passage on a longboat to bring him here, the Adventurers' Guild of Smallport, for one very special event. Today was the annual Hiring Fair.
Hrothgar pressed himself into the packed-to-capacity tavern/guild hall, rubbing shoulders, and in some cases antlers, with the best and brightest of Fantasia's unemployed mercenaries.
Most of these brave souls had fought in the Six Weeks War, some had been involved in the "Capture of the Dragon Prince" and a small but hardy few had survived "Adventure Module 6: Fungus Lords of the Abyss". These were badasses!
"Of course," thought Hrothgar, whilst appraising the competition, "I'm no swanmaid myself." After all, life in the frozen wastes wasn't just smelt packaging and ice skating. Hadn't he once beaten the hell out of Ygor Two-Thumbs, King of the Drunks? And who had saved tiny Svetlana all those times she fell in the well?
Hrothgar smiled with satisfaction. These bloodied veterans were his peers. It wouldn't be long before some enterprising team captain spotted his latent potential. Signing on with a reputable adventuring company would be the first step on his road to true heroism. Just that morning he had sworn that he would be Epic Level by the time he was thirty.
"Be optimistic, but not naive," he reminded himself. He didn't expect to be signed onto a company like the All Basically Good, Evil Screaming Heads of Flaming Death, Destruction and Mayhem right off, but that didn't mean he'd settle for a position on the Raggedy Sisters' Crew either. A well respected company on the way up, that was all he wanted.
The hall fell silent as a grizzled warrior with a shaggy beard and milky eye raised his scarred and armored body from a stoop to a slouch.
"It is time. Let the hiring begin!" he cried. "Multi-classes queue up on the left, character kits on the right. We'll take levels 9-15 right now. The rest of you, remember to fill out your applications and don't forget to fill in the rules edition you were created under."
It was chaos. Magic items were jostled and dropped, spells misfired, and a brawl broke out.
"Hey!" called Hrothgar. "Where do first-level barbarians go?"
Someone laughed. Someone else suggested, "Hell."
Two hours later the guild had all but emptied. Hrothgar threw down a few more coppers and started on his next drink.
"Hail, adventurer!" came a voice from his elbow.
Hrothgar looked down and saw a pudgy, oily face peering up at him.
"Didn't get hired, eh?" inquired the tiny man.
Hrothgar hedged, "Um, you're one of those Hobb--Halfli--" He struggled to avoid copyright. "Half-Heights, aren't you?"
"We prefer 'Little People'. My name is Lucky!"
"You'll prefer the back of my hand in a minute! Now scram."
The Half-Height, Lucky, drew back a step.
"Calm down, Conan. I didn't get hired either, okay? And I'm the best low-level thief outside of prison. Thing is I have a low encumbrance rating is all. I can pull my own weight...but that's about it."
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a little blue," Hrothgar admitted ruefully. Not even the Raggedy Sisters had given him a second look. "Let me buy you a drink, Lucky."
"Save your change. I've got a better idea. See that pair of sad sacks by the door? The cleric's a girl named Verite, the wizard's name is Ruggles. We've already decided to strike out on our own. Build a little rep, do a little dance, make a little love. Come on, whatcha think?"
Verite and Ruggles got up and waited for their cue to approach. They were both pretty well turned out - the cleric looking wise and friendly, the wizard bent and beardly. They seemed hopeless, but in a hopeful kind of way.
"Okay," agreed Hrothgar. "Where do we start?"
Which brings us to the incident with the dwarf. The newly formed team - Hrothgar the Accentless, Lucky Hinn, Verite Truthsayer, and Ruggles Roxbury - had partaken of a few celebratory drinks and then gotten down to the real nitty-gritty of adventuring.
"Who do we kill?" asked Hrothgar.
"How much do we steal?" wondered Lucky.
"What good work can we do?" pondered Verite.
"Where are my glasses?" worried Ruggles.
The bartender, once an adventurer himself, came to their rescue.
"If youse guys is lookin' for some quick fun, why not try the Bridge of the Passive-Aggressive Dwarf?"
"The what?"
"The Bridge of the Passive-Aggressive Dwarf. He's a dwarf, ya see, but he's all bitchy-like on the outside, but sweet on the inside."
"Like a Reese's?"
"Rumor is if you can best him in combat he will join your group and become a steadfast companion."
"Does he have any money?"
"Are you sure about this, Mr. Bartender?"
"Well, it's what my rumor chart says. By the way, you owe me a silver piece."
The bridge was a dilapidated toll station. They approached it with caution.
"Thieves to the front, spellcasters to the back!" ordered Hrothgar.
"Aw, man! Who made you captain?!" whined Lucky.
"I did, when I paid your bar tab."
"You know, I don't think anyone's home. Let's turn around and go beat up that orphan we saw begging on the way here."
"Shhhh, Ruggles," whispered Verite. "We need the element of surprise."
"SURPRISE!!!" screamed an obviously crazed ax-wielding dwarf as he jumped out from behind a boulder.
"Jesus...I mean, by the gods! Are you the Passive-Aggressive Dwarf?!"
"No, he's sick. I'm his cousin, the dwarf who dismembers. I'm DENNIS LADYKILLER!!!"
"Okay, Ladykiller, I'm Hrothgar the Accentless, and this is my band of--"
"Pansies!"
"Good companions. We demand use of your bridge, but will pay no fee."
"Shut up your momma!" Dennis Ladykiller gave his ax a test swing or two and approached the adventurers with murder in his eyes.
"Hold, dwarf..."
As Hrothgar began his challenge, Ruggles drew his wand, Verite gasped, and Lucky failed to hide in shadows.
"Damn!"
"Piss on it!"
The dwarf drove at him and Hrothgar held his blade steadily at eye level, just as the best fencing masters his fathers could afford had taught him. Unfortunately, as his upper torso adhered to the strictest sword disciplines, his legs pedaled rapidly backwards.
"He's jogging in reverse," an awed Ruggles realized. "It's like fighting, but running away."
"Stop and fight, you sissy!"
Hrothgar ground to a halt through a supreme act of will just in time for the ladykilling dwarf to slam into him.
"Jeepers, me helmet's askew!"
"Now, Ruggles!" yelled Lucky.
"Ae-won-ae-beech-foront-af-en-nue!" Ruggles called out the words of power and pointed at the little homicidal nutjob. Suddenly, as if by magic, which it was, a glowing bee burst from his fingers and flew drunkenly through the sky, finally striking the dwarf's unprotected arm.
"Ow!" yelped the Ladykiller, slapping the phantasmal bee into pixie-dust oblivion. "It smarts!"
"What the hell was that?!"
Hrothgar took advantage of the dwarf's distraction to strike the little fellow a resounding blow upon his helmet. Now, had Hrothgar's sword Runegaard actually been an heirloom treasured by his family for generations, this would probably have been the end of the fight. Sadly, as it was instead an inferior weapon purchased during a half-off sale at Sal's Used Swords, it snapped in half.
"You're screwed now, Oscar!" Dennis raised his ax high and, in a moment of panic, the barbarian kicked him in the knee.
"Damn, my trick knee!"
"Quick, Ruggles, cast another spell!"
"I can't. Stinging Bolt is my only one. I have to re-memorize it for two hours. But I do have this." He reached into his robes and produced a pencil sharpener. Lucky almost hid in shadows.
"Hrothgar, here!" From her satchel, Verite produced an ornate glass bottle, which she threw into the air.
In a single motion, Hrothgar caught the vessel and smashed it clean across the knee-clutching dwarf's nose. The bottle shattered in a crystal spray.
"What was that?"
"An Elixir of Health," sighed Verite.
"Brisk, yet quite refreshing," judged a rejuvenated Dennis.
Lucky still wasn't hiding in shadows. "Oh, to hell with this." The Half-Height barreled into the dwarf in a scene reminiscent of midget wrestling from days gone by.
"Gerroff! You're crazy!!!" Lucky's momentum knocked the Ladykiller off-balance just long enough for Hrothgar to bat him another one on the helmet with his broken discount sword.
Dennis Ladykiller toppled backwards and fell over the side of the bridge, landing with a splash in the stagnant water beneath.
Exhausted, Lucky and Hrothgar peered over the side as Verite and Ruggles ran over to join them. Below, the dwarf churned the mighty river like an angry teabag fighting against its fate.
"I'm murdered!" he complained, sinking for a second time.
"Hey, do we still get the experience points if he drowns?"
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